by C. C. Ekeke
Jen and Spencer arrived together with apple cider, the pair like night and day. Spencer was an olive-skinned beauty with a sleek black bob. Yet her friendliness seemed as fake as her tan, zero spark behind those dark eyes. Quinn did like Spencer’s outfit; skintight with an East Coast preppy vibe, complemented by a fierce leather jacket.
Jen, five-feet-nine inches of human sunshine, had freckles and fair skin with side-parted wavy red hair. While more on the cute side than pretty, Jen’s cheery personality amplified her charm. As Quinn went for a handshake, Jen spread her arms. “I’m a hugger. C’mere.” They embraced. Quinn immediately liked her.
Lia came next, a cute but awkward slip of a girl.
“Did you kidnap your friends from a Chanel photoshoot?” Quinn murmured while she and Jordana grabbed cups from the kitchen. In the common room, the four girls chattered and snapped selfies.
Jordana giggled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet!”
“Sure,” Quinn snickered, thinking she was kidding. Until the final guest arrived.
“Waddup, sluts!” a mature voice announced as the door swung open.
Quinn turned to see the new arrival, and her jaw dropped.
When Briseis entered, the air literally shifted. The other girls, Jordana included, squealed. Briseis, tall like Jen and Natalie but slimmer, sashayed into the apartment like a runway model. And dressing like one, Quinn noted while locking the door. Briseis wore a wool red-and-blue tartan coat over a designer black crop top and high-waisted jeans. Her silky auburn hair was pulled back in a knob at the nape of her neck. Briseis’s piercing, pale-green eyes raked over the apartment in disapproving sweeps. She even held her grocery bag elegantly. By the light-olive complexion and full eyebrows, her ethnicity was either Middle-Eastern or Mediterranean-based. Quinn kept staring at Briseis’s face. Her eyes, those lips, that creamy skin… This girl was crazy gorgeous, rendering Jordana and her attractive friends average in comparison.
Briseis beelined for Jordana. “Hey, boobs!"
“Hey, bitch!” Jordana exchanged air kisses and a hug. “Breathtaking as usual.”
“Obvs!” Briseis smirked knowingly. Jordana then introduced her to Quinn.
“Jodie’s reporter cousin actually exists.” Briseis extended a hand. “Like brownies and vanilla ice cream?”
“Who doesn’t?” Quinn accepted the charming girl’s handshake. She smelled amazing, like lavender and peaches. “Brih-SAY-Iss, right?”
“Correct! But just call me Brie. Like the cheese.” Briseis’s eyes glittered when she smiled, accentuating her already preposterous beauty. Quinn kind of hated this girl. “Looking forward to your interviews.” Placing the desserts on the countertop, she went to greet the others.
Quinn blinked, swearing to have seen fairy dust in Brie’s wake. She gave her cousin a WTF gawk.
I know, Jordana’s eye roll stated.
Once the interview began, the six girls watched attentively—while Instagramming and Snapchatting. Quinn felt weird watching herself interview the Vanguard or hearing her voiceover like a Grey’s Anatomy episode. Tonight’s two-hour block centered around Seraph and Sentinel. To Quinn’s disgust, Jordana’s friends’ eyeballs turned into heart emojis whenever Robbie Rocket appeared on-screen.
“Robbie’s so hot,” Natalie purred, fanning herself. “Excuse me while my ovaries explode.” Her friends enthusiastically agreed.
“Right?” Spencer chimed in. “Homeboy can totally like…” She shrugged coyly. “…get it.”
Jen frowned at her. “Get what?”
Spencer beamed, aiming to be aggressively seductive. “Ya know. The sex!”
“Spence, you’re corny as fuck! Sit down!” Jordana scoffed, drawing raucous laughs.
Oh, sweet summer children… Quinn remained silent, knowing Robbie was the worst. Jordana and friends enjoyed Seraph's interview but were shocked by the superhero discussing her relationship issues.
“Color me unsurprised,” Brie declared, eyebrow arched. “Sentinel looks boring!” More laughter.
Quinn watched her interviews with a pit in her stomach. Geist claiming Titan’s killer was a hero had infested her thoughts. But who? Maybe it was Sentinel, the dutiful soldier tired of Titan’s apathy. Wyldcat had motive with Titan’s constant cheating. Or Lady Liberty, for reasons like Wyldcat’s. Did those two conspire together? Then Quinn realized how paranoid and misogynistic her theories were. The rest of the evening, she focused on spilling behind-the-scenes insight. Like why during Sentinel’s and Seraph’s interviews, the latter returned to her dull, scripted self.
“Seraph ruffled some feathers by going off-script,” Quinn explained to her audience. “No more solo talks afterward.”
Watching Jordana’s friends—the camaraderie, inside jokes, overlapping debates—schooled Quinn on what popular teens liked. She could tell Jordana was closest with Brie and Jen, while Natalie loved gossiping. During silent stretches, Spencer and Jen’s exchanges of charged looks and amused eye rolls went unnoticed by the others. Brie was the boss, dominating conversations with her irresistible charm, opinions, and easy smiles. And that absurd face! She'd also say “That’s sooo funny” instead of laughing.
During an ad break, conversations went to an upcoming school dance.
“Who’s got dates?” Quinn asked, refilling cider cups.
Jen confessed to going dateless, while Spencer bragged about fielding multiple offers.
“Spence loves her disposable boytoys,” Jordana explained, drawing laughter.
“If it flies, floats, or fucks,” Spencer remarked with a haughty shrug. “Renting’s always cheaper.”
“Maybe I'll ask Jodie’s white knight,” Natalie added. “Unless she's got dibs on that piping-hot glass of goddamn.” Spencer, Jen, and Lia cackled as Jordana blushed.
Brie's nostrils flared. “Jodie and I have dates,” she snapped.
Natalie shrank back. “I’m joking, Breezy.”
“Better be.” Brie glared Natalie into submission from across the room. Everyone hushed.
Watching this, Quinn eyed her cousin questioningly.
“Breezy and I are going with guy friends,” Jordana added, scowling at Natalie. “Not some hot drink of whatevah.” That killed the debate, and the mood.
When the interview reached the Extreme Teens and Vanguard confrontation, the effervescence resumed. Jordana and friends fangirled Blur despite his lewd remarks to Seraph. Quinn didn’t get this oversexed toddler’s appeal. She continued spilling behind-the-scenes gossip, like when Sentinel ripped into corporate-sponsored heroes. “He hates the Extreme Teens.”
After the interview ended, Jordana’s friends showered her with praise. Quinn didn't discourage their fangirling.
Jordana helped clean up after her friends departed. “I Ubered here so I’ll need a ride home,” she admitted.
“That was fun,” Quinn said on the drive to Jordana’s. “I like your friends.”
Jordana nodded happily. “They loved you. And can’t wait for parts two and three! You’ve inspired Natalie to become a reporter. Probably so she can meet an Extreme Teen.”
Quinn chortled. “That Brie girl, though…”
“…is stunning,” Jordana sighed in thick exasperation. “Everyone says it.”
“How is someone legally that pretty?” Quinn demanded, parking in front of Jordana’s house. “I meant Brie going all Velociraptor on Natalie.”
Jordana stiffened. “Oh.”
“You like a boy? Yay!” Quinn clapped eagerly. “Discuss.”
Jordana exhaled, trying not to smile. “You wanna know something?”
“Tell me, baby girl.”
“Alright…” Jordana recapped her history with this boy, from his “Jody Big Cans” nickname to him saving her from getting run over.
“Now I think about him. A lot,” she groaned, looking hormonal. “He’s not a pretty boy, but definitely hot. Like beautiful, built like a man, and with swagger.” Jordana melted. “He’s definitely a problem.”
/> “Great!” Quinn beamed. “Why aren’t you dating him?”
Jordana’s eyes fell. “He was in love with Brie. Obsessed!”
“Huh.” That explains Brie’s outburst, Quinn surmised. “How does Brie feel?”
“She tolerated him sometimes.” Jordana sounded frustrated. “Mostly treated him like dogshit. Then Brie got angry whenever he gave her space.”
“Ugh.” Quinn knew grown women like this. “Look at me, don’t look at me? How basic!”
“Right?” Jordana agreed heatedly. “But he’d keep coming back like some kicked puppy. Until the boy overheard Brie talking shit. Now he hates her. And Brie got more upset over losing his friendship than dumping her boyfriend for bullying this boy.”
“Were they lowkey having…the sex?” Quinn asked, mimicking Spencer’s try-hard sexiness.
Jordana choked back laughter. “I’ve asked. Brie denied it,” she replied. “So maybe…what’s the friendship version of a shamefuck?”
“No clue.” Quinn shrugged in amusement. “This ‘friendship’ sounds sketchy. And Brie is your bestie.” If facing the same situation with Annie, Quinn would do the honorable thing.
“You’re right,” Jordana agreed. Her guilty expression said otherwise. “But…I did something.”
“Ruh-roh.”
“A few weeks ago,” Jordana continued excitedly, “I’m consoling Brie over losing her not-boyfriend. Then I’m convincing her to stop crying over him when she’s the most popular girl in tenth grade.”
Quinn clapped a hand over her scandalized mouth. “You devil!”
“I’m terrible!” Jordana reclined in her seat, all blushing and smiley. “Then next Saturday, I flirted with the boy after softball practice!”
Quinn cackled. Her cousin’s boy drama was a welcome distraction from the superhero community’s murder mysteries and secrety secrets. “Let’s try something I read on a gossip blog.” She held Jordana’s shoulders. “Imagine this boy, his body, his face. His walk…”
“Mmmhmmm.” Jordana’s smile widened, eyes glazing over.
“Now…picture him on top of you.”
That startled the thirst out of Jordana. “What?” she barked.
“Just try it, ya pearl-clutcher,” Quinn scolded.
Jordana wrinkled her nose in distaste but obeyed. Soon, she buried her face in her hands and squirmed in her seat, overwhelmed by lust.
“You’re smitten, Jojo.” Quinn patted Jordana’s cheek. “Go get him!”
“I’ll make my move at Fall Fling.” Jordana beamed. “But I’ll tell Brie first.”
“Smart. Your boy’s totally gonna…get it!” Quinn teased. “Sorry, I can’t stop!”
Jordana smacked her arm. “Thanks, prima.”
Quinn nodded sagely. “Real talk!”
“East Coast!” Jordana high-fived her. Then they both shoulder-shimmied, dissolving into cackles.
“We’re dweebs,” Quinn gasped.
Jordana side-eyed her. “Not me!” They laughed harder.
“I’m so proud we’re family,” she admitted upon exiting the car and scampering to her house. That cracked Quinn’s heart open on the drive back through Paso Robles’ well-lit streets. The clock said ten till eleven. Plenty of time before meeting Geist. Then her car’s Bluetooth screen illuminated with an anonymous call.
“Hi,” Quinn greeted merrily. “See you at twelve-thirty—?”
“No,” Geist interrupted brusquely. “Tuesday night instead.”
Quinn stopped smiling, confused. “Why?”
“Your apartment’s being watched.”
Quinn nearly stomped on the brakes in shock. “By who??”
“Uncertain,” Geist growled. “I’ll contact you with a more secure location.” He hung up.
Quinn stared ahead blankly, tonight’s joy forgotten. Upon returning home, Quinn closed any open blinds and checked her windows twice.
That didn’t stop newfound paranoia from infecting her dreams tonight.
Chapter 18
“I can’t believe it,” Jinn exclaimed, drenched from an intense basketball game. “I thought you misspoke, Mr. Hirsch!”
Greyson rolled his eyes, shoving his coworker away. “Relax!” he griped, also sweaty and in basketball gear.
Jinn studied him with gleeful, almond-shaped eyes. “I thought the days of you doing happy hours were over, man! Pardon my enthusiasm!”
Greyson smiled. He and Jinn were exiting the red-bricked community center in East St. Louis where they volunteered. Repairs on the building were near completion, thanks to generous local donations. One metallic scaffold remained over the shattered skylight. Another covered the hole Greyson had made throwing a superpowered criminal through a wall. He gave that scaffolding and the narrowing gap a lingering gaze. “It’s time to live again.” He turned to his coworker, beaming. “Step by step.”
Jinn clapped his back eagerly. “Happy to hear, brotha. Is your Grand Canyon trek still happening?”
Greyson fought to keep smiling. The hole where his team once lived was growing less painful. “Not anymore.” He shrugged the pain off, eager to focus on anything else. “Anyway.” Greyson stopped as they entered the parking lot behind the center. “Where's this bar?”
Jinn pulled out his cell. “I’ll text the address—”
“Mr. Hirsch! Mr. Lee!”
Greyson turned as Lennox and Stuart burst through the center’s entrance. The former enemies had grown close since the hostage situation.
“What’s wrong, Stuart?” Jinn asked.
“You gotta see this,” Lennox answered, breathless upon reaching them.
Now Greyson felt budding concern, looking toward Jinn. “Everything okay?”
“Remember Heroes Anonymous,” Stuart began anxiously, “that saved the community center?”
Greyson barely suppressed a full-body cringe. “What about them?”
“SLOCO Daily says OSA captured one of them five minutes ago.”
Greyson’s false calm evaporated, taking him back to that fight against the Bashem Brothers. Back to that fateful day when a nuclear mushroom cloud battered Greyson and Dad.
It took serious effort for Greyson to stay upright against waves of unbridled terror.
Thankfully, Jinn asked what he couldn't. “Which one?”
“Bravo,” Stuart answered. “The teleporter.” He shoved his cellphone in Greyson’s face.
Watching the video, Greyson silently hoped that they’d gotten the wrong teleporter.
The video showed half a dozen OSA agents in black tactical gear leading a costumed man out of a building in power-dampening cuffs. The man’s mask was removed, revealing Tom’s bloodied face. He looked defeated.
Goddamn it! Greyson gritted his teeth, mind racing with how this compromised everyone else. I should've stopped him. Or joined him. “How did they catch him?” Greyson asked, voice wavering.
Lennox studied his and Jinn’s distraught faces. “OSA staged a hostage situation at a bakery.”
“Like what happened here at the center,” Stuart added eagerly. “But it was a trap.”
“And Bravo fell for it,” Lennox concluded.
Jinn was flabbergasted, viewing the video over Greyson’s shoulder. “Jesus,” he whispered.
Panicked, half-formed thoughts bounced around Greyson’s skull. “And his teammates?” he blurted out. Fortunately, no one noticed.
“Bravo came alone,” Lennox replied.
Stuart shook his head, disgusted. “Dumbass.”
Greyson and Jinn eyed him in surprise, as the boy had been a fan of the group.
“Stuart,” Jinn scolded.
Stuart lifted his chin defiantly. “I’m super grateful Heroes Anonymous saved us. But why would Bravo keep doing superhero shit if everyone’s after him?”
Greyson already knew that answer. “To keep protecting people,” he replied, unable to hide his sadness. On the video, Tom got shoved into a black SUV by a burly OSA agent. Greyson couldn't watch anymore. “That’
s what heroes do.”
Jinn and the two teens nodded or shrugged in reply, standing in awkward silence.
And the late afternoon grew much colder.
The thought of getting drunk left Greyson nauseated. As the SUV whisked Tom away in the video, he’d just watched his own future go with it.
One question dominated Greyson’s ravaged psyche. When will Tom flip?
Chapter 19
Hugo heard Baz leaving his fourth period class in the Math building, laughing with DeDamien and other teammates about a scrimmage game. Baz acted as if he hadn’t chucked rocks at Hugo’s house yesterday, shattering windows and injuring AJ.
Since first period, Hugo had tracked Baz around campus via superhearing. He needed to learn when Baz left campus for lunch.
So focused on his target, he could identify Baz’s heartbeat. Better that than listening to that asshole brag about his shooting average or flirt with another thirsty hoop rat.
Fourth period had ended five minutes ago, an onslaught of noises buffeting Hugo’s ears. He sat hunched on top of a table at the edge of Paso High’s sun-drenched quad, steepled fingers propping his chin up. Closing his eyes helped him focus on Baz, who hadn’t left campus.
That was thanks to Brent, currently exchanging angry words with Baz in a corridor.
Hugo prickled. Come on, Brent!
"Wake up, Hugo.”
Hugo opened his eyes. A gangly boy with a shock of red hair snapped a photo of him using a fancy digital camera. Hugo recognized him. One of the yearbook’s photographers. The boy lowered his camera, revealing a buck-toothed grin. “Perfect.” He scurried off, pointing and snapping photos of other students.
Hugo glanced around the quad filling up for lunch period. Grace Misawa strutted about in a tutu getup with the Stanley Twins to hang with the Cool Asians clique. The trio were discussing some kind of dance performance at Fall Fling. Hugo, once in a dance crew with them, would love to watch that. Some burly upperclassmen football players gathered in the quad’s middle, reveling in the Bearcats’ victory last Friday. Raphael Turner made his way over to the burrito bar flanked by girl volleyball players. The dude was friends with everybody.