by Gwenda Bond
James’s dad said, “We’ll take your questions one at a time. Perry?”
Butler looked back at me, his anger gone, before launching himself up the steps to no doubt wait for a chance to glad-hand with James’s dad and take credit for his role.
“Celebratory milkshakes?” James asked Devin, Maddy, and me. Soon enough the other reporters would be rushing away to write their stories, but mine on the Daily Planet had already gone live—the moment the press conference started.
We’d gotten the scoop.
“Not for me,” I said. “I have a date with being grounded, and there’s someone I need to talk to.”
Maddy gave me a quick hug. “If you didn’t before, tell him,” she whispered.
But I didn’t say one way or the other whether I planned to. It might depend on how the day wrapped up for the two of us. Would the threat to Strange Skies still be out there by the end of it?
Verdict unknown.
CHAPTER 33
I arrived home at exactly the time I would have if I’d actually been at school: 3:45 on the dot. Take that, Dad.
Surely he’d be proud when he heard about the story. But, of course, he wasn’t home. He was off in Kansas, preparing to go out and try to catch the flying man.
“Hi Mom,” I called. “I’m going up to my room!”
She called back, “Okay, dinner in three hours!”
I closed and locked the door to my bedroom, and opened my laptop. I hadn’t had a chance to look at myself, and I shuddered at my reflection in the dresser mirror. Smudgy streaks slashed across my cheeks.
Oh well. No time for that. I didn’t even log in to chat first, but pulled up a window and went to Strange Skies. There was a little number 2 over my private message box. I clicked it.
The first was a message from TheInventor to SmallvilleGuy and me, and it included the message he’d sent to Insider01.
I hope my friends approve. I felt there was no time to lose, so I have already sent the message. Now we hope it is properly received… A
Dear Insider01, or should I say, dear member of a secret interagency task force on which you represent the CIA: You have entered my house, which would typically not be a problem. My door is open for all who seek a place to share the truth of experiences they cannot explain, honestly and in safety. No one who would need such a place can be who you are seeking, and yet I find those who have relied on the haven I created terrified after being interrogated at fake sightings that are aimed to be the locations of… what? A flying man?
If you do not delete your account and leave my house well before this evening’s sighting, I will be forced to share publicly the details I’ve been able to discover about your efforts. How embarrassing that would be! For you and your superiors, who no doubt feel untouchable. Know also that I have recently made the acquaintance of a journalist. But I have no interest in spilling secrets. Go in peace, do not return, and all will be well.
p.s. No matter how close you think you might be to finding my location, trust that you will not. You will have no way to prevent my actions, other than to make the retreat I’ve described here. I’ll be watching should you attempt to return or make any further approaches aimed at compromising the security and privacy of my guests.
It was a thing of beauty—and slightly terrifying. Particularly the mention of a journalist, aka me. But had it worked?
I closed the message and opened the next, also from TheInventor to both SmallvilleGuy and me.
You can both relax. The previous posts and the user account were deleted approximately half an hour after I sent the message, and I did still have an open channel, so I watched enough traffic pass back and forth from Insider01’s IP address to suggest a serious discussion behind the decision. The interloper trying to crack my firewall is also gone. In short: we did it. I hope to see you both back at Strange Skies soon. Best, A
Would we ever find out what A stood for? I had a shivery sense, almost like a premonition, that we would. Even if today’s problem was solved.
I grinned.
Maybe I’d been wrong about Dad. Maybe his trip to Wichita was a coincidence all along. Maybe. I scrolled down the board to confirm that not only was Insider01’s name no longer in evidence, the threads were gone. They were.
Already a new one had been posted by another user with the subject line: “What happened to Insider01?”
I clicked on it and noted the top reply.
Posted by QueenofStrange at 3:31 p.m.: Be glad he’s gone. I know what I posted before, but I was encouraged to. The whole thing was a hoax.
After closing the window, I opened chat. SmallvilleGuy’s name popped up immediately.
SmallvilleGuy: I read your story. Congratulations.
SmallvilleGuy: James must be thrilled.
SkepticGirl1: You must be too. I just saw Strange Skies.
SmallvilleGuy: Yeah, relief, for both of us. And I don’t think TheInventor has any idea your dad might be on the task force.
It had never occurred to me to wonder if what we’d seen that night had changed the way Dad saw the world, like it had for me. Now that I considered it, he would want to identify what he’d seen too.
But he probably saw it as a threat. I saw that night and what we experienced as something wonderful. The people doing bad things were the ones to hunt down. Not people who could fly. Not people who saved you from getting hurt. Not people who opened your eyes and showed you the world had secrets. Some bad, worthy of being thrust into the public eye, but some good, worthy of keeping.
SmallvilleGuy: That message was… I hope we never make TheInventor mad.
SkepticGirl1: You and me both. Although I’m confident we could take him.
SmallvilleGuy: Not that we would need to. He’s our friend.
SmallvilleGuy: But we could. Only with you there to back me up. ;)
I laughed.
SkepticGirl1: The good guys won.
SmallvilleGuy: Yes, we did.
I made a happy sigh, and I thought about what I was going to say to him. To tell him how I felt or not to tell him…
SkepticGirl1: How about we catch up tomorrow night, in Worlds?
Our maybe-a-date night. I would tell him. But not yet.
I knew I was giving myself time to chicken out, but I couldn’t make myself do otherwise.
SmallvilleGuy: I can’t wait. See you then.
I touched the screen with a fingertip.
*
The next morning, Maddy caught me as soon as I came in the school doors. Her T-shirt today was for Victory Nap—ha, we probably could all use one of those.
She wasn’t alone. Melody was there too, along with James and Devin.
“What crisis is there now?” I asked.
“No crisis,” Melody said. She seemed completely unconcerned with being seen with us. “I just wanted to thank you all, together. I’m going to be different from now on—I’m going to try to be myself. This has been the worst and best week of my life.”
She looked at her sister when she got to the best week part.
“Mine too,” Maddy said.
“You know, ditto,” James put in.
“Not that notable a week here,” Devin said, “but I’m happy for all of you.”
I gave him a little punch.
“I’m kidding,” he protested. “It was a big week.”
I’d made it through this with my friendships intact, and managed to reunite a pair of estranged sisters. Still, I told the rest of them: “Our best times are still to come.”
“After school, you mean?” Maddy asked. “Remember, Dante wants the whole staff to see the mural. He’s freaking out about it.”
James was the first to answer. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
This was worth pushing Dad’s boundaries for. He hadn’t mentioned Friday anyway, just T
hursday. I expected to use how bad a mood he was in to try to determine whether he had been part of the interagency task force that suffered such a rousing comeuppance at the hands of a mere message board architect.
That wasn’t the only loose end I worried over.
We walked up the hallway, about to head to classes. I asked Devin, “Did your mom say anything about the lab?”
He grimaced. “Bad news. The cops went to the building, but it was completely cleared out.”
Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. Disappointed but not surprised. “Donovan got away.”
It was Melody who responded. “Karma has its way of coming around,” she said.
Fair enough. I suspected at some point our paths might cross Donovan’s in the future, no matter his statement that I’d never see him again. On a hunch, I’d Googled the words “Cadmus lab” and found it was a real company with a web presence and a reputation for being on the cutting edge of science.
We went our separate ways to go to class. The night before, I’d—the horror—mostly studied for the rest of the night. I planned to make good on my promise to Butler to get back on track with my grades.
So the only question remaining was whether I’d be brave enough to make good on my promise to myself to be honest with SmallvilleGuy later. But I had the whole day and the mural expedition before then.
I would spend it with my dear friend denial, who assured me the whole decision was no big deal.
*
We took the subway to the Suicide Slum stop together, the others laughing and joking and talking while I obsessed over how that night’s “date” would go and whether I’d choke. Again.
The same old man was playing an enthusiastic guitar solo by the steps up to the street, and I paused to drop a few dollars in his hat. “If it isn’t the famous lady and her famous friends,” he said, pausing with his fingers on the strings. “Thank you.”
When the others gave me questioning glances, I shrugged. I didn’t know what he meant, and so we climbed on up the stairs, his music resuming behind us.
The meaning didn’t remain a mystery for long. It was solved as soon as we got a look at the mural.
Dante stood below it, proudly, with one of those grand smiles of his, and flung out his arms. “Ta-da!”
“Holy moly,” I said.
It was us. Not just us—younger kids and teenagers made up the entire swath of the wall now, but we were among a few figures that had been adjusted to be bigger than scale.
In the mural, we Scoop staffers stood at one side, the skyline and the globe of the Daily Planet Building behind us. Maddy was beautiful, her crimson streak a stark contrast to the pale yellow he’d done the rest of her hair in. James was noble, tall and serious, in his usual button-down style. Devin was coolly smart, a laptop cradled under his arm. And then there was me.
I was in front of them, with one leg slightly in front of the other, my black boot in the foreground, a notebook and pencil in my hand. I looked… fearsome.
“I thought about what I told you I wanted this to show,” Dante said, “after we did the interview. I wanted it to be about how we can make change. How it’s up to us, the new generation, to set things right. Watching you guys, what you did… I wanted to show that anyone can be a hero. We’re our own heroes.” He paused. “Give me something here. Do you like it?”
Maddy answered by smiling at him and giving him a quick kiss. “Very much. So much.”
“We’re speechless,” James said. He shot the couple a thoughtful look, and then gave me a nod.
So, he was waiting. He wouldn’t say anything to Maddy. Not yet. Good decision. Because Dante was a great guy.
“But can I have a crown?” Devin asked, half-kidding.
“You’re only a king in the game,” I said. “It’s incredible, Dante. Thank you.”
I pulled out my phone and moved back to snap a photo of the mural. I’d use it with my story. And I sent it—via the messenger app—so SmallvilleGuy could see it too.
“Speaking of the game… I have to go. I have, um, a date.” I waved, and turned to head back to the subway. Their hooting calls after me made me grin, but I didn’t let them see. I was still nervous, so nervous the trip home passed like I was in a fugue, only awaking for a message from SmallvilleGuy: See you soon.
Yes, he would.
Only not quite as soon as I wanted, because when I got home, Dad was in the study with Mom. Before they realized I was home, I overheard some of their conversation.
“No, my meeting didn’t go well. It was a disaster. We’re trying a different approach,” he said.
Dad was careful not to overstep clearance by sharing things with Mom, but they talked about his work. Just in nonspecific terms.
“We still have a source monitoring the channel we were looking at. Though I’m not sure if I trust him anymore.”
Sounded like Dad was on the task force. And wait a second. Talk about ideas almost as disturbing as that—was it possible their “source” was TheInventor himself? I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t help wondering. I might have to do some sleuthing in Dad’s study soon. See if there was anything to indicate whether it was or not. I’d tried, but I still couldn’t quite trust that guy.
A creak in the floor gave me away. “Lois, you’re home,” Mom said, coming out of the study. “Can you come here for a sec?”
Dum dum dum. I heard the sinister sounds in my head. “Sure thing. Though I’m supposed to meet a friend online in a few.” I added, “Homework talk.”
“That’s fine,” Mom said.
“It’s not fine,” Dad said, joining her in the doorway. “I hear you met the letter of the law yesterday, but I also heard about your story. You’re busted. You want me to tell your mom or should I?”
I tried to decide which response would delay me the least, but Mom spoke first.
“You mean tell me she snuck out after our movie night and came back home later? I knew the whole time,” she said. “It wasn’t a boyfriend. It was your story, wasn’t it? The one that was tough. You’d said James was texting you, and then when it ran, I put it together. That was an important story.”
Dad was gaping at her. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Lois would never sneak out at night unless it was for an important reason. I trust her. You should too.”
Dad’s mouth was still wide open.
“Yeah,” I said. “You should trust me.”
Mom laughed. “Don’t push it.”
“Understood,” I said, “I’m lucky to have you. Both of you.” Dad deserved that, even if he was snooping where I’d rather he didn’t.
I pecked Mom and then Dad on their cheeks and went upstairs. I heard the murmur of their voices behind me.
When I passed Lucy’s door, I noticed she’d taken off her Keep Out sign.
I locked my bedroom door, though I didn’t think anyone would bother me, then dug out my holoset and hooked it over my ear. I sat on the bed and thought about the past week. About how there are people we’re meant to be connected to. About how easy it is to not let those people know that.
Then I pressed on the holoset.
He was waiting, a lanky alien with light green skin and blue eyes. It felt like ages since we’d seen each other. Whatever “seen” really meant.
The game always felt real. But today it felt even more real. Because I was about to try to make it that way.
“You are a sight for tired, finally-passed-a-test-in-bio eyes,” I said.
He shook his head. “That mural was something.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, good or bad, but when he held out a hand, I put mine in his. We floated up, over the green hills of Worlds War Three to our castle turret, but instead of going inside, he flew us up to the stone teeth around the top.
We sat on the wall beside each other. No spying bat
was anywhere in sight. The sunset was again one of those insane game ones, many hues fighting each other across the skies and red winning, the giant moons illuminated gray and dipping low in the sky.
Our hands were still clasped together. I didn’t want to let go.
“Your dad’s back, right? Did you get in trouble?” he asked.
“No, but I don’t want to talk about him right now.” Dad would be a threat to us, even if he didn’t mean to be, if he was still determined to find the flying man. Especially if my suspicion about TheInventor was right. But that discussion could wait.
He tilted his head, curious. His eyes were so blue. “So what did you want to talk about? The fact you lost the bet? I can send you links to the best Monarchs sweatshirt.”
“I did lose, but that’s not it. I wanted to talk about…” I paused. “This, us.”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let go of my hand. His finger traced a C on my hand, back and forth, back and forth.
I took a breath, and then began to talk before I could chicken out. Again. And all the words poured out. “I just… is this a date? Is Friday our date night? Because I think of it that way. And I know we haven’t met out in the world, and you can’t tell me who you are yet for whatever reasons you have—which I’m sure are good, although really you can tell me—and that means we can’t see each other. We live halfway across the country from each other, and so I know that none of this makes sense, but.”
“But?” he asked.
I sighed. “I like you. More-than-a-friend like you. I worry about you. I look forward to talking to you more than to anyone else. I know we can’t actually, like, go out on dates, but I would want to know. If you met someone else.”
He started to laugh. The sound was nice. I loved his laugh. But I kind of wanted to push him off the turret.
“This is not funny,” I said. “I’m pouring my heart out here.”
He released my hand and touched my cheek. “I’m not laughing at you. Ever. I’m laughing at me.”
“Explain,” I commanded.
He dropped his hand to his lap. “I have been living in fear that you would tell me you were going out with Devin or James or some guy you met in Metropolis who I haven’t even heard about.”