by C. C. Ekeke
“What about a reply to Tomorrow Man’s team?”
Quinn snorted with laughter, passing rows of cubicles. “I’ll email you in two days on the best fit.” Tomorrow Man, self-labelled heir to Titan, was the definition of famewhore. His managers had called three times this week asking for Quinn to do an interview series. They weren’t the only superheroes requesting her. The attention made Quinn a little drunk off her own self.
Jono sped up and blocked her path. “At least gimme a hint which one you want to cover. Then I can assign the leftovers to other reporters?”
Quinn knew what Jono was attempting, dominate and intimidate her into a snap decision. “Why aren’t we doing this over email or Skype?” She asked, abrupt and unfriendly.
Jono stiffened. “Fine,” he stated with icy courtesy before storming away.
Quinn rolled her eyes and resumed walking to her desk. As she scrolled through emails on her phone, Creed Samuels fell in beside her.
“Can I tell you how much I enjoyed that verbal smackdown?” Creed gushed.
Quinn glanced at him with his spectacles and long dreads. “You just did.”
“Be careful how hard you smack Jono,” Creed warned, no longer smiling. “That dude is petty as fuck and loves nursing grudges.”
“Same here,” Quinn replied distractedly before they parted ways. Quinn hadn’t forgiven Jono for briefly getting her fired a few months ago. But after her Titan murder exposé, Jono barely registered as a threat to Quinn. Once she reached her desk, a news story caught her attention about Missy Magnificent, former Extreme Teens leader. Not for a drunken bender or rehab stint. Missy had launched another comeback, protecting San Miguel’s impoverished Junction neighborhood. Quinn triple-checked that this wasn’t an Onion article. Nope, this came from the San Miguel Tribune.
Missy Magnificent was a cautionary tale. A young hero getting insanely famous, surrounded by sycophants enabling her worst impulses. Diva-like behavior, partying, and deteriorating work ethic had plagued Missy since leaving the Extreme Teens. All before age nineteen.
That saddened Quinn. “Doubt if this comeback sticks,” she muttered as an incoming call vibrated her phone.
Seeing the caller ID, she hastily answered. “Hello, stranger!”
“Hello, Ms. Bauer,” Hugo Malalou said on the other end.
Chapter 9
“Being a sidekick could work,” Simon encouraged after Hugo had recapped yesterday. “Less pressure. On-the-job training from Libby.”
Hugo remained unmoved. “You didn’t see the suit.”
The pair had left fourth biology for lunch period. The hallway they’d entered overflowed with hungry students.
“How bad?” Simon asked, wincing.
Hugo slid a pair of tinted shades onto the collar of his snug, navy-blue polo. “I looked like a rejected flag design.” he griped. “The name sucked too.”
Simon laughed, then sobered when seeing Hugo’s anger. “Clearly too soon. You tell Libby that?”
Hugo shook his buzzcut head. He’d held his tongue after Lady Liberty revealed his new alias. But the bile lingered throughout last night’s training. “She’s already taking time to train me. I don’t wanna sound ungrateful.”
“But you hate the situation,” Simon countered, picking lint off his Voltron t-shirt.
“But Libby’s a veteran,” Hugo muttered, glancing around. “I should give this a chance.” Hugo was trying to see the upside here. He and Simon were cautious discussing his superhero life in public, always speaking in code. The wrong people could overhear. “As if yesterday wasn’t wild enough with Sione showing up,” Hugo griped.
Simon frowned as they reached Hugo’s locker. “I thought you liked him.”
“Sione’s my favorite uncle,” Hugo admitted, switching his books for later classes. Sione had a mix of surfer zen and Samoan machismo. “But he’s an idiot with a criminal record and two baby mamas. Always needs my mom, aunts and uncles to bail him out.” Hugo closed his locker and navigated the crowded hallway.
“You don’t trust Sione?” Simon inquired.
Hugo snorted. “Hell no. I’ll have to be more careful at home.”
“Move gentlemen." An older man wedged past Hugo from behind. He had stern yet jowly features with a fluffy coif of greying hair. His pink button-down accentuated a paunch and pasty skin. “People are trying to pass.”
“Sorry, Mr. Proctor,” Hugo apologized.
Darren Proctor gave him a stern look. “Show remorse by walking faster.” He marched off.
Hugo shrugged off the teacher’s grumpiness. Simon wasn’t so forgiving. “Excuse our socializing in school. Asshole,” he replied loudly.
But Hugo listened as Proctor inhaled angrily through noisy hall chatter. He’d heard Simon but didn’t turn to reprimand him. Good. Hugo needed to avoid trouble after Fall Fling.
“So…” Simon changed subjects. “Jordana.”
Hugo slipped on his sunglasses and chuckled. Yeah, that happened. “Still can’t believe it!”
“Who made the first move?” Simon inquired eagerly.
“Jodie,” Hugo replied as they stepped outside. Balmy sunlight bathed his skin. “Lips like butter… She got moves.” He got kind of breathless reminiscing about her.
Simon lit up. “Good for you!” The pair fist-bumped and saluted each other.
“It’s casual.” Hugo’s smile dimmed. His hypersensitive hearing caught familiar footsteps. “Don’t tell Brent.”
Simon nodded in understanding as Raphael Turner's massive frame appeared around the corner. A rangy blond boy with buzzed hair and in Bearcats warmups trailed him.
“Whaddup, brosef?” Brent Longwell greeted, giving Hugo a handshake/side-hug combo.
Hugo smiled. “Whaddup, Brent.” The quartet exchanged greetings before crossing the sprawling quad between Paso High’s buildings. Countless social cliques gathered in their designated spots. Hugo and his friends weaved through the social jungle to wait in line for burgers. Some scrawny tattooed gangster wannabe tried cutting in front of a slender blonde girl. Hugo yanked him out of line by the collar. The poser gangbanger whirled angrily.
Hugo stared him down until the kid paled, stammered out an apology, and fled. He tapped the shoulder of the girl ahead of him. “You good, Taylor?”
Taylor von Stratton looked at him and blushed. “Yeah.” She was short and stacked, her plump cheeks begging to be squeezed. “Thanks, Hugo.” The pair flirted a bit until they grabbed their respective meals.
“You handled that jackass,” Brent praised once Hugo and the others walked away. “Like nothing.”
Hugo rolled his eyes, knowing where this led. Raphael did, too. “Lawd, Brent.”
“You’re a beast!” Brent gestured with his soft drink, awestruck. “Share some workout tips with your brosef.”
Hugo winced. Brent couldn’t handle his workout, which included bench-pressing eighteen-wheelers. “You’re already ripped, Brent,” he deflected. “And killing it in basketball.”
Brent deflated. “I guess. But you know who’s returning to practice soon?”
Hugo’s humor curdled. “Unfortunately.” Right on target, he and his friends almost ran into a pack of towering basketball players. Tension immediately spiked. Hugo could feel the eyes watching all over the quad, teachers included. Most of the ballplayers, included shaggy-haired Cody Banks and bald Harlan Mills, threw salty looks at Hugo and Brent. The Samoan's eyes locked on one player.
Sebastian ‘Baz’ Martinez stood in their midst, hair shaved on the sides and slicked left on top. Baz stiffened, his default reaction whenever seeing Hugo now. He was still recovering, ribs taped up and his ankle in a boot cast. DeDamien had transferred to some asshole factory private school last month. His wealthy parents were suing San Luis Obispo school district. TJ had returned to school, broken jaw wired shut. Paso High still searched for who’d assaulted Baz, TJ Kim, and DeDamien Harris, convinced a rival school’s athletes were the culprits.
Baz knew the
truth. And a compromising recording from Hugo’s ex-girlfriend kept him quiet.
Hugo removed his shades. Baz looked so breakable. And weak.
Baz shivered under his glare. Lionel Wagner, the handsome varsity captain, guided Baz away. “C’mon, bro.” He eyed Hugo with muted disgust before his team approached their usual lunch spot.
Hugo watched them go. Hatred notwithstanding, seeing Baz also evoked shame. Yeah, Presley had manipulated Hugo, but he had nearly killed Baz.
Lady Liberty had given great advice when Hugo didn’t know how to handle the guilt. “Make Baz a reminder of the power you wield. Use that guilt to be a better hero each day.” She usually spouted fortune cookie answers like that.
Brent’s insecurities jarred Hugo back to now. “Once Baz gets healthy, there goes my point guard spot.”
Hugo faced him. “Don’t let him take it.”
“Bogie’s right,” Simon chimed in. “Fight for what’s yours.”
Brent looked touched by Simon’s encouragement. Hugo smiled watching this bromance blossom.
The foursome reached three benches where their friends sat near the auditorium. Grace, Wale, Groban, and JT were already eating. The lovely Stanley twins, Marin and Karin, arrived in matching spaghetti-strap dresses. These six plus Hugo made up the Fab Phenoms dance crew. Everyone exchanged hellos and high-fives. Almost three months and Hugo still couldn’t believe he was in this awesome clique.
“Practice after school?” he asked Wale. With all his superhero training, dance practice attendance was limited. But the Fab Phenoms was the slice of normal he needed.
“Yup.” Wale nodded, his braids jostling. “Freestyling and a new routine.”
Hugo beamed. “Excitement. We’ll correct your angry dancing.”
Wale scowled. “I dance with PASSION, fool!”
“Shut your hole already, Lia!”
Hugo flinched, even though the bitchy voice came from across the quad. “I’m not celebrating my Division One championship at some restaurant where the food looks like throw-up.”
A procession of gorgeous and glammed up sophomore girls strutted from the burrito stand, grabbing stares from horny boys and jealous girls. The leader, Briseis El-Saden, looked flawless as usual in a black monogrammed onesie, her confidence reeking like a rarified perfume. Her sleek auburn hair was parted and up in a high ponytail with a golden headband. Brie’s face, fit for any fashion magazine, was a beautiful mask of disdain. Word around campus revealed many wins for Brie recently, like her varsity tennis Division One victory. Other rumors revealed cracks in that perfect façade; her parents’ bitter divorce, her brother moving out and rumors of drunken blackouts at parties.
Hugo and Brie hadn’t spoken since Fall Fling, reduced to sporadic glowers whenever their eyes did meet. Seeing Briseis no longer filled Hugo with hate for her. The only hate that arose was for his former pathetic version self that once loved Brie more than anything.
Hugo averted his gaze to Brie’s squad. Jen Thomas, aka J-Tom, long-limbed with a wavy ginger bob, walked beside her. Lia Kim, petite and medium pretty, vied for Brie’s attention like a hungry puppy. Natalie Rodriguez and Spencer Michelman took up the rear.
“Ciopinot,” Natalie suggested, voluptuous and pretty, long hair streaked with caramel. “My dad and his baseball team are regulars.”
Brie shook her head in sharp disapproval. “Been there, done that, bought the collector’s mug.”
“Carmello’s?” Spencer offered. “I know the owner.” Her bored, foxlike face wasn’t caked with excessive makeup or bronzer—huge improvement. Spencer was looking super sexy nowadays, in Hugo’s viewpoint. Her black hair was longer, messier. She’d ditched the preppy attire for a collared green romper, flattering her legs and thicker curves.
Brie quickly warmed to this suggestion. “Love it, Spence. Everyone must get glammed up.”
Hugo perked up, counting only five girls. “It’s true,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Brent answered. “I called Jodie after Natalie’s text declared her persona non gratin.”
“Persona non grata,” Hugo corrected, scanning the quad. He found Jodie near the glassy Science & Tech building with her softball crew. Damn, she looked delicious—long hair in her usual up-down style, wearing a white and blue Bearcats softball jersey with baggy jeans.
Jodie was gossiping with teammates when hers and Hugo’s eyes met. Dizzying heat rushed to Hugo’s loins. God, she’s hot. Jordana smiled, her breath hitching from afar.
Hugo turned to Simon. “Guess you can’t call them the Sinister Six anymore.”
The Korean boy chuckled, popping fries into his mouth. “They’re The Feckless Five.”
Hugo cringed. “Not your best burn, Simon.”
Brie’s squad reached the jocks’ grassy spot under shaded benches, receiving greetings from Paso High’s varsity athletes. Natalie and Spencer cozied up beside upperclassman athletes. Brie sat on Baz’s lap, planting a big kiss on him. Yep, they were back together. J-Tom watched Spencer flirting with the jocks, a strange expression on her face. Lia, beside her, looked forlorn. “My family goes to that Korean barbecue every weekend.”
“I know,” J-Tom soothed. “Brie’s in a mood today.”
“Brie’s always in a mood,” Lia complained. “No wonder Jodie threw soda on her.”
Hugo smirked. Wish I’d seen that.
J-Tom fought down laughter and glanced in Hugo’s direction. Smirking, she poked Lia. “I see your Korean husband.”
Lia shoved J-Tom away, blushing. “Shut up!”
Hugo followed Lia’s embarrassed stare, gaped, and guffawed.
Simon frowned at him. “What?”
Hugo leaned in, snickering. “Lia Kim likes you.”
Simon almost choked on his fries. “Bullshit!” He looked over at Lia and curled his lip. “Won’t lie. She’s cute. But her head’s so far up Brie’s ass she can see her breakfast.”
“Who are we gossiping about, boys?” Grace swaggered up to Hugo and Simon. Her outfit was a fitted Native American print caftan with a scarf and white porkpie hat. “I hear mutterings.”
“No one,” Simon blurted out.
“Someone likes Simon,” Hugo revealed, to his friend’s horror.
“Really?” Grace remarked eagerly.
Simon bristled. “Don’t look so shocked.”
The hostility startled Grace. “I’m…not. Who is it?”
While they bickered like a married couple, Hugo spied Jordana crossing the quad. She didn’t look up, sashaying to the auditorium down the tunnel, putting on a show for Hugo to watch. And he was.
A minute later, Hugo stood. “Be right back.” He followed Jordana, feeling many eyes on him.
Hugo found her at the student store across from the auditorium. The store was awash with Bearcats souvenirs, paraphernalia, and student supplies. Jordana was scanning the aisles with disinterest. Desire squeezed Hugo’s chest as he crept up from behind. Sticking fingers in Jodie’s back pocket, he gave a gentle yank. She yelped, spun around right into his arms.
Hugo grinned at Jordana’s pitter-pattering heartbeat. She felt warm, soft. “Hey babe,” he murmured in deeper tones. Hugo reached out, brushing hair from her shoulder with a feather-light touch.
Jodie gulped, fingers digging into his chest. “Hey, you,” she purred up at him.
“I wanna see you tonight,” Hugo declared.
Jordana winced and eased from his arms. “I got softball practice. And an English Lit paper to finish.”
Hugo shrugged, open to flexibility. “Let’s make it a study session.”
Jodie’s response was sheepish. “Doubt we’ll get much work done. Rain check?”
A pang of disappointment needled Hugo’s chest. He quickly released the emotion before it rooted. After how Brie had treated him, Hugo refused to beg any girl for scraps.
“Okay…” he replied nonchalantly, no longer disappointed. “We’ll hang when we hang.” Hugo turned to leave the store.
Jodie’s
breath caught again. Hugo smiled, knowing what would happen next.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, husky and eager.
Hugo stopped and turned. “Answering you,” he snarked.
“Ten minutes till lunch ends.” Jodie stepped toward him with a head gesture at the auditorium that was pure invitation. Her fingers entwined with his.
“Works for me.” Hugo let Jodie lead him out of the store and to the auditorium.
Once the fifth period bell rang, Hugo left the auditorium, grinning his face off. Best ten minutes of lunch ever. A study date was planned for tomorrow.
Hugo’s good mood was fouled when he got home. AJ shoved an iPad in his face showing SLOCO Daily’s homepage. “Another teen suicide bomber.”
Hugo snatched his brother’s tablet. “Seriously?” This one had been in SLO County, at Lake Nacimiento. Raul Serrano, an Arroyo Grande High junior. Fifteen reported dead. Hugo’s chest tightened to painful levels. “What sicko is doing this to them?”
“Go after this guy,” AJ demanded. “Or woman.”
Hugo gaped but relaxed after listening around the house. Mom was at work. Uncle Sione wasn’t home. “I wouldn’t know where to start. And Lady Liberty hasn’t said that I’m field ready.”
AJ side-eyed him. “You shouldn’t need permission to protect people.”
AJ was right. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. And Hugo did have a contact who could help. “I’ll look into it.”
Half an hour later, Hugo called his contact before heading to dance practice. She answered after one ring. “Hello, stranger!”
Hugo grinned. “Hey, Ms. Bauer.”
“You saved my life, Hugo,” Quinn replied, a smile in her voice. “Call me Quinn.”
Hugo chuckled. She sounds like Jordana. “Okay, Quinn.” Using an adult’s first name felt weird, even if Quinn was in her mid-twenties. “Is your offer to help me still good?”
“Yes!” Quinn replied. “What do you need?”