by Sam Herrera
*
I smiled and did a little half-curtsy at the awed look on Scout’s face before sitting next to her. “How’s things?”Just when I thought her eyes couldn’t get any bigger than those specs made them.
“You tell me, Wonder Woman.” I chuckled at that. “Seriously, I couldn’t believe my eyes.” She leaned in close and lowered her voice. “It is you, isn’t it?”
“Um, hum.”
“My. God. Your dad must be going nuts right about now.”
“I hope so,” I grinned.“Then he just might take some notice of me,” I added, my grin fading and bitterness creeping into my tone.
“He’s that bad, huh?”
“Mr. Invisible,” I nodded.
“Dickhole.”
I smiled and nodded wholehearted agreement. There wasn’t much talking after that. We just sat together, eating our lunch.
“Hey,” I looked to see Invisible Junior standing over me.“Sis, is this you?” he asked, showing me the same YouTube clip.
“Really, Andy? That’s what it takes for you to finally notice me?”
“What?”
“You’re just like Dad, y’know: only caring about yourself. Go away,” I snapped, seeing his mouth open in preparation for a bullshit excuse. Scout whistled, watching him go away.
“That was kinda harsh,” she remarked.
“Well, it’s true,” I scowled.“I feel like I don’t even exist around them two.”
“Sorry.” We continued eating in awkward silence. Things always got awkward when our families came up. Her father was a worthless drunk and her mother was…a bitch.“So, what’s the deal?”
“We found this…jet type-thing.”
“A jet?”
“Yeah, only it’s way more than that: it has its own armory station, and invisibility, and it can go into space, and all that.”
“Wow, I’d love to have one of them.”
I chuckled. She thought I was joking. Fine, let her. I attended my lessons and lazed about in the sunshine afterwards. And I was left to myself as usual, but it was different now: I was encased in a layer of…awe. None dared approach me as I lay on the brightly-lit lawn and walked down the halls…in my sombrero. It was as though I was now something alien; a little Superwoman, or Wonder Woman, among lesser mortals and I was loving it. The day seemed to drag on. I was usually sad when school ended, but not anymore: I couldn’t wait for the next weekend when I could bring back more mementoes from exotic islands. That evening, as I was saying goodbye to Scout and walking back to the limo, I noticed my driver looking at me oddly. He’d probably never even noticed me before I appeared on the Net; I was just a piece of luggage to be carried to and fro. Only, that morning, the luggage had gone missing.
“I got a ride with a friend,” I explained. He shrugged and held open the door, not really caring.
SARAH
What. In. God’s. Name…?! I sat at the computer in Ron’s study, my eyes glued to the screen. It was Mara. I would swear that in court if I had to. But, what the hell?! How could she get… up there? And who was he? I shook my head as I closed the video and, squeezing my eyes shut, pinched the bridge of my nose. My mind was blown. What was going on? I needed a drink.
“Hey, Auntie.”
“Mara, what is this?” I asked, turning in my swivel-chair and pointing at the screen.
“What’s what?”Oh, right. I replayed the video.
“Is that you?”
“How could it be me?” she asked.
I scowled, knowing that oh-so-innocent look all too well.
“Your driver tells me you got a lift with a friend this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what friend?”
“Scout. Why?” she sighed.
“Why?! Well… is that you?”
“No,” she scoffed.“How could it be? How could I get all the way up there?” She was lying. I knew it. But if so…What was going on? I thought back to the past few days: her strange new song, ‘Starlight’ or something, that weird hat and shades, her new cheery manner that seemed to come from nowhere and now this. What. Is. Going. On?
KYLE
I woke up and groaned as I remembered. With all the jetting around I had forgotten I had an interview today. I heaved a sigh as I got up, donned a suit and hauled my ass out the door.
*
I sighed as Kevin and I waited in the sitting room just outside Mr. Plummer’s office. I’d smiled gratefully at Kevin’s back as we’d walked in. That this guy was my friend was amazing in itself. The difference between us was as night and day: I was from Texas. He hailed from the UK. Someplace called Brighton, I thought. I was still a young guy, barely thirty; he was about fifty. I was struggling to find any kind of work. He was set: a gifted doctor and surgeon. He and I went back a long way though. We’d served in Iraq together, him the field medic, me the young recruit, and made it through some tough shit. But the ends of our army careers couldn’t have been more different: I’d been kicked out for punching out my C.O and given two years for assault. He’d quit after repeated begging from his girlfriend and soon-to-be wife, to come home and stop getting shot at. Lucky fuck, having a hottie that cared that much about him. I smiled. Jay had been drop-dead gorgeous; a very tall brunette, my height, from the sunny beaches of Miami with legs that just went on and on and a figure to die for. I’d thought he’d been having me on when he told me her age: thirty-nine. I’d seen her once at the gym and she had been like a machine, going on and on when most other women would collapse. But not even the fastest woman on the planet could outrun cancer. Sick of living in unbearable pain she had taken the car out and driven it into the nearest wall. I swallowed hard as I recalled the funeral; what a mess the poor guy had been. But he’d carried on nonetheless and I admired him for it. And I adored his daughter, Michelle, a real driven one just like him.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Your wife,” I told him.
“Hey.”
“And your daughter,” I added quickly. “Real talented, isn’t she?” Kevin relaxed and nodded, his chest briefly puffing out. Michelle Greer was a well-known actress and already had an impressive résumé under her belt, not to mention a hell of a reputation and work ethic, choosing often the toughest jobs and sticking at them all the way. Challenges were her oxygen. I smiled, recalling seeing her coming back and back for more punishment at her first basketball game. She’d reminded me of myself at boot camp.
“Yeah, she is. She’s coming home for her birthday next week.”
“I will be there for that.” I suddenly noticed he was stared at me oddly. “What?”
“Is it you on that video?”
“Course not,” I snorted.
“It looks a hell of a lot like you. And that kid, well I’ve seen her picture in the papers. Mara Hale, is it?”
“It might be. I wouldn’t know; I’ve never met her,” I lied.
“She lives in Gramercy, in that big manor.”
“That is, most likely, why we’ve never met. I mean, I’m not exactly New York’s elite, am I?”
“I can tell when you’re lyin,’ man. Always. The Statue of Liberty,” he snorted, smiling incredulously. “Shit. Okay, fine, don’t tell me.”
“There’s nothin’ to tell,” I stated flatly as I looked away. Fuck, I hate lyin.’ We both walked into the office to meet the guy who would be interviewing me. Apparently Aiden Plummer and Kevin Greer went way back as well: Kevin had saved his life on the operating table when he’d been badly injured in a hit-and-run. I could tell though, with one look at the scrawny, speccy nerd, that we were going to hate each other.
“Mr…?”
“Thayer,” I told him.
“Thayer,” he nodded. “Have a seat.” We both sat and I handed over my résumé. He scanned it, nodding quite a few times. “Well, it seems y
ou have quite some experience in the military.”
“That’s right, sir. Not much at crowd control, though, I’m afraid.”
“Still, you know how to handle yourself?”
“Trust me, sir, he does,” Kevin nodded.
“Alright, fine. Let’s see what you can do.” We shook.
*
Fuck. This! This truly was humanity at its worst. I watched in disgust as drunks staggered away: the men brawling and acting all tough, the women flashing their shit all over town and puking their guts as they did so. Cielo was, according to the travel brochures, “a sleek, upscale room, aimed at those who love the electronic blasts, that boasts a killer sound system, enveloping dancers as they jostle each other around the floor.” It was a killer to my eardrums alright. The band was always deafening and, from the sound of the lyrics blasting out through the door whenever it opened, awful. All that I’d read may have been true once, when people still knew how to behave themselves. Now though, the “jostling” was more like…well, drunken staggering. The sleek atmosphere had gone badly into disrepair too, with puke coating most of the décor as the drinks were usually powerful and either sickly-sweet or tasted like tar. I eyed the queue in amazement as it got longer and longer. They’re gonna pay to come in here? I shrugged and took the cash from the first up, feeling like a thief. I waved through the rest of the crowd while keeping an eye on the horizon, praying dawn would come soon.
“Nice, innit?” Dave, my fellow doorman, said, eyeing another pair of pukers as they staggered off.
“Lovely,” I nodded, smiling wryly.
MARA
When I got home, I got a real surprise: Father was waiting for me. He was standing in the doorway of his study, wearing his best suit, as usual, and eyeing me with some interest for once.
“Come in here, please,” he said curtly. Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. I sat in the chair in front of the massive, wooden desk, my face a blank mask. I’m not telling you anything. “Who is Kyle Thayer?”
“I dunno. Who is he?”
“If you don’t know him, what are you doing on the top of the Statue of Liberty with him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stated, looking him dead in the eye. For a second my mask slipped and the longing I’d felt all my life shone through. “Why can’t we just talk? Why’s it only now, when you see some YouTube video, that you pay attention to me?”
“If you’re going to be so ridiculously sentimental, I won’t bother with you,” he snapped, in the curt tone he used when firing someone. “I know, for a fact, that you and he are in that video; I’ve had it studied from every angle and close-up. Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” I swallowed emotion and put my mask back on. If he was going to be my lord and master, I was going to be the rebel. “Fine,” he snapped after a while, “I will be typing up a restraining order immediately, forbidding him from coming within fifty feet of you and this house or having any contact whatsoever with you. If he ever comes here, I will have him arrested.” I just sat there, stunned and furious. I wanted to grab the whisky bottle and throw it in his stupid, smug face. How dare he? How dare he show up after ten years of just ignoring me and decide how I. Live. My. Life?!
“May I go now?” I asked in a quiet, husky whisper.
“Yes. Go,” he said, waving me away. God, I hate you.
*
The first thing I had done after leaving the office was call Kyle on my mobile, in the woods, miles from anyone – in the house you never knew who was listening in – and arrange to meet, telling him I needed to speak to him urgently. In truth, I just needed to get out; I was suffocating here. In yer face, Father. I waited, just outside the gate, for the telltale shimmering in the air above me. I smiled as I finally saw it cruise gently to a stop across the road. I began to cross over, looking curiously at a black van, with tinted windows, parked a few yards down. I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside or not. Shrugging it off, I stepped onto the kerb. I could only imagine how a door opening in thin air would look to someone with no idea what was going on. I stood back as the ramp lowered all the way. If that didn’t have that “someone” running for the hills, desperately convincing himself he’d seen nothing at all, what would? I climbed aboard and sat in the co-pilot’s chair.
“Get me the hell out of here,” I ordered. Wide-eyed, he engaged the throttle. I watched, envious, as he steered expertly.
“Think I’ll ever be that good?” I asked, after several deep, calming breaths.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I doubt it but maybe.” I sniffed at him.
“Let’s try?” I asked, reaching for the joystick.
“Hey, don’t be rude.”
“May I please drive our wondrous new toy, kind sir?” I asked, fluttering my lashes a few times.
“Yes, you may,” he smiled, getting up and offering his seat. He must have seen my request coming because he had several cushions, from his house, I suspected, piled high on the seat.“I would have let you without the sarcasm, y’know.” We flew in silence for a while; he only spoke to correct me when I went wrong and point out the odd button. “You catch on pretty quick, I’ll give ya that. So, what’s up? You said you had something important to tell me? Stop that, will ya?” he sniggered as I carried on batting and fluttering.
“What is it?” I became instantly serious.
“Father has put up a restraining order on you; you can’t come within fifty feet of me or the house. If you do, he’ll have you arrested.”
“Shit. Sorry,” he added.
“‘S’okay,” I smiled. “What are we gonna do?”
“Be careful, I guess.”
KYLE
“It’s not fair though.”
“What’s not?”
“Him just waltzing in and stopping me from seeing you, from going where I want.” The kid was pretty pissed, I could tell just by looking at her: her white cheeks were flushed and her eyes were darkening from pink to red. We sat in silence for a while, just letting the ship cruise along.
“Wanna play a game?”
Mara blinked. “A game?”
“Yeah, you know: Scrabble, Monopoly, chess.”
“I’m terrible at chess,” she grinned, shaking her head.
“How do you know unless you try?” We took off, headed for home. My home.
*
“Sorry about the mess,” I said as I threw away some old beer cans and quickly hid the dirty magazines. Mara settled herself on the sagging sofa and looked around, seeming not to mind the mess, even to like it. I personally couldn’t see the appeal. I had taken the cheapest room at the cheapest apartment block and had been there ever since.
“Drink?”I offered.
“Sure.” I checked the fridge and I only had beer. Great. I brought back some water and sat beside her, the sofa barely having enough room for us. “I think we should set some rules about this thing.”
“If you are worried about the guns, don’t be. I hate guns. I don’t want them.” Smart kid.
“Cool. Fine.” That was actually what I had been about to say. “Well, yeah, that was it really.”
“So,” she smiled, “where to next?” I smiled back as I directed her gaze to the gear I’d bought: winter coats for both of us, sleeping bags, tents and books on the great outdoors.
“You know I was hopin’ you’d ask.” Over Scrabble, not chess, we discussed the new plan. I’d always, my whole life, wanted to visit the Arctic regions. To see the sunlight captured perfectly in icicles and sparkling on snow. Who knew, we might even see a polar bear up close.
“If a polar bear comes up close to me,” Mara stared, “I’m running.”
“Fair enough, I’ll be the one with the cool snapshots and you won’t.”
“Don’t you mean, you’ll be the one getting eaten and I won’t? I can’t go,” she frowned, looking at her letters.
This was technically against the rules, but what the hell? She was a beginner. I slid her letters over.
“Yes, you can,” I told her.
“Where?”
“Atrocities.”
“I don’t have that.”
“Cities is already down there,” I said, pointing it out. “All you have to do is add your A,T,R and O.”
“Oh, yeah.” She was really bad at this; the rest of the game was pretty much me pointing out everything she’d missed like adding letters to words already there to make something new. Hell, so what? She was enjoying it and she’d forgotten all about that jerk. “Where are you from, Kyle?”
“Around here.”
“Whereabouts?”
“I was born in a hospital in Texas. Mom took me home and she and Dad brought me up.”
“My mom’s family is from Texas. She went to NYU and we used to spend Christmas together with my grandparents. When she died—”
“Aww, sorry.” She nodded and continued.
“We kinda lost contact. Father…Well, you know what he’s like. Any brothers or sisters?” she asked.
“Sandy, my sister. I told you, remember? She moved away and married about six years ago.”
“Are you married?”
“You really think anyone else could tolerate this dump?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not so bad,” she shrugged, looking around.
“C’mon, it’s a pitiful little shoebox.” I looked down at the board and found I could make “electricity”. I went for it and gained about twenty more points. Not bad, though, I said so myself.
“What are we going to do about this order?” I sighed, shaking my head.
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it. I mean, he’s your father. He has that right.” She sighed, grim-faced, and shook her head too.
“I hate him.”
“I can’t say I much like the sound of him either,” I admitted. “But he is only doing what he thinks is best for you.”