by Kelly Oram
Carter—who rudely didn’t offer to pay for my dry cleaning—shook his head, disappointed. “Still so easy to sneak up on.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” I argued. “And besides, I wasn’t listening for you.”
Carter rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out at him. Our relationship wasn’t the most mature one I’d ever had. For him either, probably.
“I can’t tell you how much I love these little surprise visits of yours.” If his voice had been any drier, he’d have been choking on sand.
Grinning at him, I lifted up the hot dog in my hand. “Aw, cheer up. I brought you dinner.”
Carter looked at the Coney dog and frowned. “That’s half-eaten.”
“Yeah, well, I got hungry waiting for you. It’s after nine p.m. on a Saturday. What’s the matter, no special lady in your life? Other than me, of course.”
The glare I got for that totally made this trip worth it.
“Don’t lose hope,” I teased. “I mean, there’s got to be someone out there willing to date a grumpy, cynical, rude, sarcastic loner.”
Carter snorted. “Other than your boyfriend?”
Touché. “Do you find it as disturbing as I do that we have so much in common?” I asked.
“I find it disturbing that I can’t seem to get rid of you even though I moved over three thousand miles away.”
Carter hefted a messenger bag from one shoulder to the other and began walking down the street. I quickly matched his pace. “Shucks, Carter. What would your life be without me in it?”
“Peaceful,” Carter grumbled.
I laughed and then brought my delicious chili and onion covered Coney dog to my mouth. Before I could take another bite, it disappeared from my hand. I watched incredulously as Carter took a big bite. Once his mouth was clear, he regarded my slack jaw and I swear I saw one of his lips twitch. But he couldn’t possibly be holding back a smile. Not on my account.
Carter and I were not friends. We would never be friends. I didn’t like him. At all.
“What do you want, Jamielynn? Why are you buttering me up with chili dogs?”
“I wasn’t. That was my dinner.”
Carter laughed and finished off the last of my hot dog. “You still want something.”
“All right, fine. I need your help. Again.”
The momentary playful mood that had existed between us vanished and Carter sighed. “I’m not your own personal search engine, Jamie.”
“I know that. Do you think I’d be here, associating with a reporter—”
“Journalist,” Carter corrected, annoyed.
“Fine, journalist—if I could get the answers from Google? You should be flattered that I think highly enough of your skills to ask for your help.”
“Please. I’m just the only one you can trust.”
“I know.” It was my turn to sigh. “Ryan and I were appreciating the irony in that after my last visit to New York. But anyway, here’s the thing. The guy in the photo I brought you? His name’s Charlie Murphy. He works for Visticorp as a guy who goes out studying people to see if they’d be good candidates for Visticorp’s research.”
Carter was shocked still. I took two more steps before I realized he wasn’t walking with me. “How do you know that?” he asked. “I tried everything and couldn’t find him.”
“I have my sources too, you know. Like I said—you think I’d be here if I had other options? You’re a last resort, Carter. Always.”
Carter scoffed.
“Look, last night one of Murphy’s buddies tried to tranquilize me and cart me off to his secret laboratory. Not cool. I’m out of options, aside from going all homicidal supergirl on anyone who comes near me. I need to know everything I can about Visticorp so that I can figure out a way to get them off my back. Where they are. Building layouts. Financial records. Employee history. Who’s in charge. What kinds of experiments they run. Other ‘subjects’ they’re researching. And most importantly, anything you can find on Subject 4281—a.k.a. moi. I need to know what they know about me, and who—if anyone—they’ve told. I need to know what theories they have, what they want with me—everything. Then I’m going to use that info to destroy them.”
Carter stood there for a minute, just staring at me. Then I realized my necklace was glowing. Probably my eyes too, considering the way Carter was gaping. “Sorry.” I took a breath. “They really pissed me off last night.”
“Yes, I can see that. And now I am going to brave your wrath and piss you off even more. I’m not going to help you, Jamie.”
“Excuse me?” I had to have heard him wrong.
“I won’t investigate Visticorp.”
“But—but why?”
Remember that part about Carter bringing out the immaturity in me? I was one foot stomp away from throwing a full-out tantrum.
“Because I value my life, and people who dig too far into Visticorp tend to disappear.”
“That’s exactly why you should help me do this! I’m not just anybody, Carter. If somebody tried to mess with you, they’d have to deal with me. I really, really hate to admit this, but we’d make an awesome team. Together, you and I could take them down.”
Carter cocked one of his eyebrows in amusement. “The superhero and the reporter, working together?”
“Uh, hello? Ever hear of Clark Kent and Lois Lane? Every superhero needs a trusty sidekick. Weaselly little reporters with unquenchable curiosity make the best kind. Take into account your loose morals and you’re a sidekick goldmine.”
Okay, maybe referring to him as my sidekick wasn’t the best approach. He looked pretty much disgusted at the prospect. But I still thought he’d go along with it. He was like that. He wasn’t afraid of danger or getting his hands a little dirty, and he’d do anything for a story. Bringing down a huge, respectable company like Visticorp—who was responsible for how many countless Nobel prizes—and exposing them of things like kidnapping and experimenting on human beings? No way would Carter pass up this opportunity.
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Okay, maybe he would consider saying no.
“Go home, Jamie. I’m not doing it.”
“But—”
“I said no.”
I closed my mouth, shocked at how serious he was. When he saw my confusion, he took pity on me. “What you’re talking about is a suicide mission. Even for you. I have spent too many years trying to keep you safe from those people just to help you walk right into their arms. You can forget it. Even I, with my loose morals and unquenchable curiosity, have limits.”
I stood there, gaping at Carter’s back as he walked away from me.
“Fine!” I yelled after him. “Will you at least run a background check for me? On someone not connected to Visticorp?”
Carter slowly turned around. “Who?”
“A guy named Teodoro Vivenzio. Born in Rome about eighteen to twenty-two years ago.”
I smirked when Carter’s face pulled into a scowl. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He may have been scared of Visticorp, but he couldn’t resist me taking an interest in someone. “Why?” he asked. “Who is he?”
“Just someone I don’t trust...yet.” I smiled at Carter. “That’s where you come in.”
Carter crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s in it for me? You’re all out of favors, Jamielynn.”
I cursed internally. I knew what he was getting at. Anything for a story...
Jerk.
“Fine. Everything you can possibly dig up on the life of Teodoro Vivenzio and you’ll have yourself an exclusive interview with Chelsea’s Angel.”
Carter straightened up to his full height. “On camera,” he demanded. “Not a written story. And I want a demonstration of your powers.”
I clenched my hands into tight fists. “I’m not a circus show. Don’t push your luck, Carter, or I’ll give you a demonstration of my powers right now.”
“No powers, no info.”
“It’s just a simple b
ackground check.”
Carter laughed, but it wasn’t with any humor. “With you, nothing is ever just a simple anything. I know there’s got to be something you’re not telling me.”
Which is why I knew he’d look Teddy up after I was gone, whether I agreed to an interview or not.
“I can’t give off a demonstration of all my powers on camera. I don’t want people to know exactly what I’m capable of. Giving the world that info? Now that would be suicide.”
Carter glowered at me. I was right, and he knew it.
“Teodoro Vivenzio. From Rome, Italy. Give me what I want to know and you’ll get your interview—on camera—but without the freak show. It’s your call. You have my number.”
I left without waiting for an answer. I knew he’d eventually do it.
. . . . .
It had been after nine in New York, but when I got home to California it was only six thirty and the sun was just barely setting. I wanted to call Ryan and tell him about my visit with Carter, but he was out with his mom and stepdad at some fancy function and wouldn’t be able to talk to me until it was over.
Becky was out with her cheer squad for the evening, too. She’d invited me to come along, but it had been such a long, stressful weekend and I needed a nice, low-key evening of menial tasks. My clothes were starting to pile up and I knew the dorm laundry room would be deserted on a Saturday night. A novel and a can of Pringles along with the lull of a washing machine sounded like heaven.
I’d just changed into a pair of sweats and thrown my hair up in a sloppy ponytail when someone knocked on my door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my energy responded instinctively. Would Visticorp have come again for me so soon? Would they be so bold as to come right to my door?
“Who is it?” I called out warily.
“It’s Teddy. I would have called first, but you still haven’t given me your number.”
The reproach in his voice was comical and put a smile on my face. Letting go of my energy, I opened the door. “You’re a computer hacker. Don’t tell me you don’t already have it along with my e-mail, Facebook, and home address.”
Teddy laughed. “Guilty. But I have to at least try to keep up the pretense of not being a stalker, right? Can I come in?”
“May as well. You and I need to talk.”
Teddy flopped down on my bed with a frown. “Why does it sound like I’m in trouble?”
“Because you are,” I said as I began scooping my clothes into my laundry basket. “You were so rude to Ryan yesterday after you promised me you would behave.”
“Oh, come on, Jamie!” Teddy groaned. “I made that promise before I really knew your boyfriend. I seriously can’t help myself. It kills me to see you wasting yourself with him. The guy is so…so…” He couldn’t think of a word, so he groaned again. “Okay, what do I have to do to get you to ditch him and give me a shot? Anything. Name your terms.”
I should have been annoyed with this conversation, but I couldn’t be when he kept making me laugh. “Never going to happen, Teddy, but if you keep acting like you did last night I’m not going to stop him when he finally decides to punch you in the face.”
As I set my full laundry basket down on my bed, one of my bras floated up from my floor and dangled in front of my face. I gave Teddy a dry look and he flashed me a wicked grin. “You missed one.”
I rolled my eyes as I snatched the bra out of the air and threw it on top of the pile. “If you really need to show off, you could at least make yourself useful and grab the detergent off the closet shelf for me.”
Teddy’s grin doubled in size and soon my laundry soap was resting on top of my dirty clothes.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Teddy quieted for a minute, lost in his own thoughts, and then he grinned up at me again. “It’s very cool being able to use my powers in front of you. I hate having to hide it from everyone. I’m glad you don’t think I’m some kind of freak.”
“Who said I don’t?” I teased, but then I saw the look on his face and stopped playing around. I sat down next to him and sighed. It was just too hard not to relate to him. “Of course I don’t think you’re a freak.”
I couldn’t believe I was having this talk like this. I’d had this talk a million times before, but I’d always been on Teddy’s side of it. Now I was playing Ryan’s part. It was interesting to see things from Ryan’s perspective for once. Looking at Teddy, I didn’t see anything that equaled freakish. If anything, he was special because of his powers. Ryan had said that to me a million times, but I’d never fully believed him until this moment.
“Your powers make you different,” I said, borrowing one of Ryan’s old speeches. “But that doesn’t have to mean ‘freak.’ Maybe it means you’re special.”
“Thanks.” Teddy’s lips quirked into a small smile, but it seemed sad. He kept his gaze trained on the glow in the dark stars some past resident had stuck on the ceiling above my bed.
Things got quiet again as Teddy lost himself in thought. He looked so sullen all of a sudden that my heart hurt for him. I knew the look of needing someone to talk to. I’d had Ryan for a year now to unload all my issues on, but Teddy didn’t seem to have anyone.
I laid back on the bed next to him and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. “Having to keep such a big secret and feeling like there isn’t anyone else out there who really knows what you’re going through?”
Teddy’s eyes drifted closed. “It’s lonely. All my life I’ve wished there were someone else out there like me, wished that I weren’t alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Teddy opened his eyes and slid his gaze to me. His face was neutral, but he couldn’t hide his hope. “I’m not?”
I almost told him. I almost came clean about everything, but at the last minute I chickened out and said, “Sure. Chelsea’s Angel has powers, too. Maybe someday you’ll get to meet her.”
Teddy watched me a moment longer before he turned his gaze back to the ceiling and sighed again. “Maybe.”
I felt bad that he was still so down and I tried to cheer him up. “Maybe she wishes she weren’t alone just as much as you do,” I said, nudging him gently in the side with my elbow. “She could be your new best friend and you could have countless arguments over whose powers are cooler. You could have superhero contests.”
Teddy finally cracked a smile. “That would be sweet.” He chuckled, but it died quickly and he turned his head to face me. “Why does it feel like you understand me?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I do.”
Teddy nodded, relenting. “Maybe you do.”
I finally pulled myself off my bed and offered Teddy a hand up. “Come on. This laundry is not going to wash itself. If you haven’t got anything better to do on a Saturday night, you can keep me company while I fluff and fold.” I narrowed my eyes and added, “Just keep your freaky mind powers off my underwear.”
Teddy laughed and then used his telekinesis to take the laundry basket out of my hands. “So,” he said as I locked my door, “I feel like I need to confess something. When you mentioned your accident with your boyfriend last night you said it was your fault, but you didn’t really go into detail.”
My stomach flipped. I did not want to have this conversation right now. Luckily, I didn’t have to.
“I got curious and did an Internet search on you.”
I was surprisingly relieved. I wasn’t thrilled that he’d looked me up, but at least now I wouldn’t have to tell him myself.
Teddy waited for me to say something, but I’d just received a text from my mom that said: 911 Jamie! The news! Right now!
I tried not to panic, but whatever it was had to be really bad if Mom was sending me emergency texts and actually wanted to send me out on a Chelsea’s Angel mission.
“Everything okay?” Teddy’s soft voice startled me.
“Yeah,” I said, pocketing the phone he was
subtly trying to read. “I don’t know. Just...My mom...Family crisis.”
I couldn’t just tell Teddy to hold on while I went to check the TV, but I could hear the television in the lobby of my dorm playing some “breaking news,” so I kept walking.
In an attempt to keep calm, I picked up our conversation again. “Okay, let me have it. I know what you get when you Google Jamie Baker, and you, with all your devious hacking skills, probably dug up a lot more than that.”
Teddy sill looked concerned for me, but managed to look sheepish when he answered, “Guilty again.”
“Well, you must have something to say or questions you want to ask. Everyone always does.”
Teddy smiled, but it was a sad smile full of sympathy. “A lot of things about you make sense now, that’s all.” I wanted to know what things, but I didn’t ask. “I also just wanted to say that you’ve been through a lot, and you know I know what that’s like. You seem like you’ve been stressed the last few weeks. I know you have Ryan, but I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here, too.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t. I was grateful for an interruption when we reached the lobby of my building and were met with a large crowd gathered around the TV. At least, I was until I realized what the breaking news was about.
There was a man standing on the roof of a ten-story building, handcuffed to a terrified girl. He was shouting and waving a gun frantically, jerking the girl around as if threatening to throw them both over the edge.
My mother texted me again, with a message sounding just as frantic as her first one.
I gripped my purse, not sure what to do. My first instinct was to get down there and find a way to help, but logic told me there wasn’t much I could do. But then the reporters began talking and what they said left me no choice. The man on the roof was demanding that Chelsea’s Angel come to him or else he was going to jump, taking his ten-year-old stepdaughter with him.
My blood froze in my veins. Whatever that man’s issue was with Chelsea’s Angel, that little girl’s life was in danger because of me. It may not have technically been my fault, but just like the other times in my life—Derek’s death, Ryan’s kidnapping, Mike’s inability to walk—this girl’s suffering was a result of my actions.