Ordinary Champions

by Hayden Thorne

  Lucky Wade.

  He landed with barely a sound and hurried over to the dumpster, sinking back into the shadows by scurrying to the side that was farthest from the alley’s open end. I turned my powers off and sat on the dumpster lid, crossing my legs under me as though I were just hanging out somewhere comfortable, clean, and germ-free. Under my weight and the weight of the dumpster’s thick plastic lid, I could hear the garbage being squeezed past their bags’ capacity. In fact, some of them actually popped.

  “Are you here to take me back with you again?” I whispered, half-joking.

  “I wish. I can’t, though. I’m not supposed to.”

  Frankly, it was a little unnerving holding a conversation with someone I couldn’t see. Peter shifted his weight, and I’d catch a very, very faint glimpse of his figure in the dark, but his costume blended seriously well, which surprised me. The last time I saw him, the patterns in his suit gave off a soft glow, but now nothing was there.

  “What—what happened to your suit?” I blurted out. “I can’t see you in the dark.”

  “It’s evolving with me.”

  “Huh?” I frowned. Then my thoughts drifted back to that one night weeks and weeks ago, when Mom, Liz, and I were watching the news, and I noticed something bizarre about Magnifiman’s costume. “That’s insane. Are you serious? Does that mean you’re still evolving in your powers?”

  “Yeah,” Peter replied with a dull chuckle. “I’m stronger now, my skills are much, much finer, and my speed’s much faster. Same with Althea and Trent. If you see us—that is, when you see us again, you’ll notice a big difference.”

  I took note of his emphasis on “when” but kept quiet and waited. “What about Wade?” I asked, finally. I hated how shy I sounded and hoped he didn’t notice.

  “She came into her powers later than we did. It’ll take her a little while longer before she—um—advances in her development.” He paused. “Listen—Eric—I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry for being such a dick to you…”

  “No, don’t. I miss you—a fucking lot. But maybe being separated like this is good for us. I—I don’t know. I’ve been learning a lot about myself, anyway. Gives me a serious headache every time, but it’s like we had to break up for me to figure stuff out. Does that make any sense? It’s been crazy with me lately.” I had to laugh weakly.

  “I miss you, too. You’ve no idea how much grief I’ve been putting Althea through, making her listen to me blame myself for what’s happened. There’s never been anything between me and Wade, Eric. You’ve got to believe that. Even if I got all fixated on my relationship with her as a friend and someone who could understand what it feels like being a freak.” He sighed. “I didn’t express myself right. I was too selfish and didn’t see how everything was affecting you. I understand if you don’t want us to get back together, considering what I put you through. But—for what it’s worth, Eric, I still love you.”

  Somewhere from deep down, an angry voice yelled at me. Peter was lying, it said. He was mocking me and rubbing my nose into the break up. He really did like Wade more than me. He didn’t want to get back together because they were way better matched than we’d ever been. I didn’t know where that voice was coming from, exactly, and why it sounded more convincing than Peter. I listened to it, was on the verge of agreeing, but something else tugged me back.

  I nodded, swallowing that ginormous lump in my throat. “I love you, too.” Feeling my control slipping, I added, “You asshole.” We both dissolved into quiet giggles in the dark.

  That angry voice went quiet, but something told me it never went away. And it wasn’t convinced.

  I stole a glance in the direction of the street. Around the corner where the alley and the street met stood the bank, and so far, no signs of life came from there. An occasional car chugged past, or a pedestrian hurried through the street, but I saw nothing else. Man, what a bunch of doofuses those goons were. How long was it taking them to rob a single bank, and after hours, at that? Then again, I suppose I should be grateful for incompetence and the extra time it was buying me.

  “You’re the good guy,” I finally said, turning back to Peter or, rather, the shadows beside me. “You should be stopping the Trill’s men.”

  Peter chuckled again, and I felt something warm envelop my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I turned my hand over, so we could lace our fingers together. “I’m not supposed to.”

  “So what’s this now? A new plan of attack? Let the bad guys get away with crime and nab them that way?”

  He sighed. “You make it sound so sordid. Eric, everything’s under control—well—except for me, anyway. I shouldn’t be here. Trent’s going to have my ass on a platter as usual. I just wanted to see if you were okay, so…”

  I shifted uncomfortably on my filthy perch. I knew what this was all about. At least I thought I did, and the moment felt way too awkward for me. “You know, even if you’re here to take me back, I can’t go. If I do, the Trill’s going to come after my family. It’s like—I made a deal with Satan, you know?”

  I felt his fingers tighten around my hand. “Eric—”

  “No,” I cut in. Resolution strengthened, and Plan B surged through my mind. With that came a kind of grim confidence. If I didn’t feel superhuman before, I sure did then. If it weren’t so dark in that alley, I’d have puffed out my chest like a rooster on ‘roids to impress him.

  “Peter, whatever I do to set things right, I need to go about it alone. If anyone’s planning to help me, there’s not much they can offer. I have to do the rest of it, myself. There’s no other way.”

  “Eric, don’t be stupid,” he hissed, an edge of panic in his voice. “Listen to me—”

  Harsh voices cut him off, and soon I heard running footsteps headed in our direction. The Trill’s men were coming back. “Go,” I whispered, and his hand pulled away from mine. “I’ll cover you.” I scrambled to my feet and jumped down. I didn’t know when Peter retreated because I never heard a sound from behind me, but it didn’t matter.

  I swaggered over the scampering little group of masked men, all of them panting while hauling small sacks that bulged with money. “Man, you guys are slow.” I snorted.

  One of them—I didn’t know how he managed it with him loaded with so much cash like his good-for-nothing buddies—raised a hand and gave me the finger.

  Chapter 13

  “So when are you going to let me in on your schemes, anyway?” I asked over lunch. Several long, long days had passed since my transformation—or, rather, evolution. Maybe I should stop giving it such a fancy name since it turned out to be a total disaster in the end. I suppose the only good thing that came out of this was my being a hundred times less clueless about everything at that point.

  The Trill sighed and shook his head before shoveling some more pasta into his mouth.

  “Well, put yourself in my shoes,” I prodded, emphasizing my frustration with my fork by stabbing my food with it. “I’m always left outside to be everyone’s lookout. I don’t know whom to expect, and I don’t know what I’m really supposed to do other than cover everyone’s slimy butts and offer myself up for the good guys’ target practice.”

  “And you do so with an incredible amount of complaint.”

  My left eye twitched. “Can you blame me? Jesus!”

  “My dear Mr. Plath, you’ve just given me a thorough description of your role in this organization.”

  I glared at him. “You mean watchdog and target practice.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You know, you might feed and house me—”

  “And keep you educated, of course.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But I still get the short end of the deal.”

  He sighed again. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, I realized with sadistic pleasure. “Teenagers are so impatient,” he said.

  “Hey, you’re like my dad now,” I cut in, nearly peeing in my pants in stratospheric levels of joy when I saw him squirm in
his chair. Man, what a bachelor he was. “We’re supposed to have what’s called ‘open communication.’ That’s what my real dad used to say.”

  Of course, the end result of those “open communication” moments involved my ass being grounded for whatever number of days, but I didn’t want to tell the Trill that.

  “Oh, good grief,” he muttered as he helped himself to more drink. He also drank more and more at the table, I’d noticed. Did that mean I was going to cause him total liver failure? I hoped so! “I’m not your father, young man. And even if I were your stepfather or whatnot, I’m still not your real father, and I go about things my way, not his. Do you understand?”

  “Except the homework bit,” I said, still glaring.

  “Yes, except the homework bit. I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but how are you getting along with Dr. Dibbs?”

  Ah. Crap. I quickly rallied and pretended teenage levels of sulkiness. “I can’t stand him,” I said, dropping my gaze and frowning at my food instead. Was that good enough? I sure hoped so. “He’s creepy and gross, and it’s like he’s perving over me.”

  “Indeed. Well, then, there’s no hope for it. I’ll have to replace him with someone else.”

  Of course, there was also such a thing as overplaying one’s hand. I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll bear with him. I mean—he knows his stuff, I guess. He’s a good tutor.”

  “But of course he is! He’s the best I could find anywhere in the underworld!”

  “Charming. I’d hate to see the worst that’s out there.”

  I looked up at the sound of a contented, yet very genteel, burp and saw my stepdad—gah!—dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “That attitude won’t do, young man,” he said, pushing his chair back. “It’s no wonder you’re doing poorly in Chemistry and Geometry.”

  “But I’ve always sucked in those subjects! Just ask my family!” I had to stop myself. “No, wait. Never mind. Don’t go anywhere near them.”

  He shook his head and raised a finger in warning. I never realized how well he was beginning to take to his role as my psycho bachelor stepdad. He could use some work, yeah, but I blamed his own father for screwing him up the way he did. Whatever it was his father did, anyway, other than genetically manipulate him and then drop him on his head as a baby. The Devil’s Trill was forever doomed to be a sucky single parent.

  “That’s a poor excuse if I’ve ever heard one,” he said, suddenly sounding authoritative. “No, no, no. You’re spending one-on-one tutorials with Dr. Dibbs whether you want to or not. It’s apparent you can’t function well on your own. I’ll talk to him the next time he comes by and give him permission to tutor you privately in the library. And, yes, we’ll have to draw up a stricter schedule for you. We’ve been far too lenient up until now, but no more, young man. No more.”

  I sulked, and, man, was I good! “Whatever. I don’t care. Just—as long as he keeps his slimy hands to himself, I’ll put up with him.” Voice, posture, jutting lower lip—I had it down to an art form. Had Althea been there, she’d be rolling on the floor. Possibly videotaping me as well.

  “Well, I’m done. I’ll see you at tea, Mr. Plath, and I expect you to be done with your homework by then.”

  “What—where are you going?”

  The Trill had reached the dining room door by then, and my question seemed to take him by surprise. He paused and turned. “Work, of course,” he replied. “You’ve never been this concerned about what I do. Why the interest all of a sudden?”

  Shit. I thought I was being appropriately bratty. “I’m bored! What else can you expect from a sixteen-year-old who’s been cooped up in this dump since day one? Look at my complexion!”

  “Don’t be sassy. You know I’ll call you when you’re needed for something. In the meantime, work on your lessons. And no more complaints about school or Dr. Dibbs, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.” I sighed, turning back to pretend-glare at my pasta again.

  “Good.”

  I listened to his footsteps as they faded off somewhere down in the tunnels. Every so often, I heard him talk to one of his Guarding Gorillas, as I now fondly called them, most likely telling them to keep a close eye on me and make sure I didn’t step out of my room. I made a face as I forced myself to finish my meal.

  “What a bizarre household,” I muttered. Once I cleaned up my pasta, I decided not to go for seconds and just chased everything down with lemonade.

  “Oh, damn it!” I sputtered, coughing. “What the fuck?” The lemonade was sweet. Not only that—it was sweeter than its usual oversweetness. What was going on here? Was he trying to off me by giving me diabetes? The Trill told me he’d already spoken to the cook or whoever…

  I stared at my half-empty glass in shock. “Wait a second,” I breathed, coughing more lightly this time. “The ring was baked inside a cookie, which means…”

  I paused, blinking, as realization dawned. “Someone’s trying to help me with this stuff? Is that it?” That was the only thing I could think of. Freddie must be responsible for this, and no one else. He had access to the cookie batter, so he must’ve been able to slip something into my lemonade—somehow. What was the reason for the stuff, though? To turn me normal again? Was that why my powers were growing more and more unstable?

  Of course, the downside to that theory was that Freddie and the Sentries—if they were really responsible for what was happening to my drink—were purposefully putting my life on the line. Freddie himself said I was in danger and that I needed to use my powers as little as possible.

  So what was that all about?

  I groaned and stared at the ceiling. “Damn it, why can’t people just leave me alone? Haven’t I had enough of this shit?”

  The half-naked figures—still heterosexual—cavorting above me said nothing, so I cleaned up with my napkin and stalked out of the dining room after drinking a glass of water, determined to yank the truth out of Freddie the next time he showed up as Dr. Dibbs.

  “This is getting ridiculous,” I grumbled as I walked back to my room. I didn’t do my homework once I was safe inside. Hell no! I went online, naturally. Spent a very productive hour there, surfing and clicking on links like before, mentally kicking myself for being such an idiot when I last talked to Peter. I should’ve told him where I was being cocooned by the Trill. I should’ve told him my scheme of attracting Althea’s attention online. I didn’t, though. I let my weakness take over, like the real dumbass that I was.

  I wanted them to know where I was being hidden, so they could all work with me into gutting this place and shutting it down for good, even if it meant causing a cave-in—as long as I wasn’t anywhere inside, thank you.

  Then, with Freddie and the Sentries hooking up with Magnifiman’s gang, we could all work together to get at the Trill and this supervillain league he was hell-bent on forming. One small and very specific detail in Plan B, however, required that I acted alone.

  Payback, as they often said it, was a bitch.

  * * * *

  That beeping sound…

  Goddamn it, did I forget to turn off my alarm again?

  I groaned as sleep faded—gradually and too slowly, it seemed. I turned my head and pressed my face against my pillow. Sure, maybe suffocating myself in the process of waking up would help quiet the stupid thing down.

  The beeping wouldn’t stop, so I moved my arm, blindly feeling around my bed to find that stupid-ass clock. I groaned again, this time in siesta-robbed irritation, when I felt nothing but nice, soft sheets and the mattress.

  “Oh, man.” I sighed as I raised my head and forced my eyes open. “Can’t a guy get any sleep around here? Liz, did you screw around with my clock again? That’s not funny, you know.”

  I was finally on my hands and knees, and I crawled in the direction of that stupid sound. I could barely see—well, thanks to the fact I had my eyes closed the whole time. The only thing worse than having to wake up way too early in the morning was to have one’s afternoo
n nap rudely interrupted this way, and I knew Liz was behind this. She’d done that a couple of times before to get back at me.

  Nope, no clock anywhere, I found. I’d stretched out an arm and felt around for my nightstand, which, apparently, had also disappeared.

  “Chrissakes, Liz, did you move my stupid nightstand, too?” I called out, finally.

  The beeping continued. I sat up on the bed and knuckled the siesta cobwebs out of my eyes. Then little by little, reality asserted itself. Nope, I wasn’t in my old attic room. And, nope, Liz was nowhere within fifty feet of my bed.

  I looked around, my irritation now rising to downright shitty levels as the beeping continued.

  “Shut up!” I bellowed.

  It didn’t. Cussing left, right, and center, I tumbled out of bed and walked around my room, turning things over, moving furniture and dropping to my hands and knees as I poked around odd corners and so on. Eventually I gave up and scrambled to my feet, throwing my hands up while cussing again. Scratching my head, I turned around and glanced at the computer.

  You big dill weed. Don’t you know the sound of your own computer?

  The letters flashed in white across a black screen. I stood there, my jaw hanging.

  “Althea?” I stammered once I found my voice.

  Hey, hot pants. How’re you doing?

  Chapter 14

  Nothing but endless beeping—of the furious, freaked out, WTF kind—became my happy world for the next moment, and Heaven knew how long that moment stretched itself out.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you, my hot, ass-kicking not-really-girlfriend!” I cried, hugging the computer monitor as it beeped hysterically. I guess had Althea the ability to speak through the computer, she’d be cussing me out like whoa, and I figured her crazy stream of beeping to be all kinds of imaginative, dirty words aimed at me.

  I let the computer monitor go eventually. My arms were a little sore from all the weird angles they were forced to embrace. When I stepped back, I was teary-eyed and totally not ashamed, though I still didn’t have access to facial tissue, so I had to turn away from the computer and wipe my face with my shirt.