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He keeps talking as if I’m not in the room. “When your mother and I found out she was having twins, my whole world collapsed. I couldn’t depower my own child, especially the one who was good. And the evil one, well I was selfish. I had this idea that I could raise both children to be good. That they could choose to be good when they turned of age and their full powers developed. So I changed the law.”
A heavy pain fills my chest. Dad loved us when we were born, despite knowing one of us would be evil. Does he still love me now that I’ve totally screwed my chances of having a Hero future? My fingers tap the doorframe. “Would you still love me if I were the evil one?”
He looks up. “I never thought that far ahead. When your sister died, I chose to believe you were good.”
I brace myself for the backlash to come next. For the speech about how I’ve totally disappointed him and that I’m the worst daughter ever and he regrets changing the laws. He pinches the bridge of his nose and runs his hand down his face, distorting his eyelids as he sighs.
“I should get to sleep soon, I had a long night.” He keeps typing, making no motion to get up and actually go to bed. I take that as my hint to leave him alone. I start to go back to my room and then stop, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Hey, Dad?” He looks up, his fingers still flying across the keyboard. “What was your secret mission thing about earlier today?”
His lips form two flat lines. “It was secret. That is all I can tell you.”
“Oh,” I say, somewhat embarrassed to be spoken to like a child. I wonder if he can tell Max since he’s in the Hero club and all. I’m tempted to wake up my brother and ask him, but I’ve caused enough trouble for the day. “Goodnight then,” I say as I head toward my room.
“You’re not the evil one.” I barely hear it. At first I think I’m imagining it. I stand motionless in the hallway just outside his door, wondering if he wanted me to hear his whispered words. He lets out a long, defeated sigh. In the same hushed voice he says, “Please don’t be the evil one.”
“I’ve never been grounded for thirty seconds, much less five days.” Crimson’s face bobs up and down on the holograph screen in front of me. She’s been running full speed on a treadmill for the last twenty minutes and isn’t breaking a sweat. That isn’t a benefit of being a Super—that’s just Crimson.
“He didn’t exactly say I was grounded.” I recall this morning’s conversation with Dad. “He just said I can’t go anywhere … or do anything … or talk to anyone until the examiners make their decision.”
Crimson rolls her eyes, the irony of what I just said not lost on her. She ups the speed on her treadmill until she’s at fifteen miles per hour. “Call it what you want. You’re grounded.”
I sigh. I like my bedroom. But not enough to spend the next five days living, breathing, eating, and sleeping in it. “Don’t tell anyone I called you. I’m technically grounded from my MOD. I guess Dad thinks I could lose my temper over a phone call or text or something.”
“I wish I could tell you something encouraging.” Crimson wipes the back of her hand across her forehead in what could be, holy crap, considered wiping off sweat. I guess she isn’t a genetically perfect cyborg. “But you picked a terrible time to delay getting Hero status. Crime rates have skyrocketed in the last few days. Quite a lot of petty villains trying to gain access into Central.”
Petty is what they call Supers who have gone rogue, but not too rogue. Real villains kill, hurt, maim, and destroy. Others are just Supers who couldn’t cut it in Central and wanted to live amongst the humans where their powers would make them better than the people around them. Of course, once you go rogue, you can’t come back. They wipe your credentials from every access to King City and any other Super location.
But if they’re trying to break into Central, maybe they realized how stupid they were to leave it in the first place. Maybe all they want is permission to come back. That’s not allowed, but maybe Dad could change it. Central may have a ton of rules, but it’s for the greater good.
The greater good. The thought of Central and its government, my father included, has always brought comfort to me. Knowing there is a force greater than any evil, that’s in control for the safety of Supers and humans alike, is a very comforting thing. But what if the rules meant to protect me are the same rules that will ruin me?
“What’s wrong?” Crimson asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I stammer some kind of reply that I’m fine. Her eyes question me for a moment. She tilts her head to the side as if she’s looking at a toddler and not her best friend. “This too shall pass, my dear. I’ll talk to you later. Or—in six days. Whichever comes first.”
“Crimson?” I say right before she ends the call.
“Yeah?”
I bite my lip. The life of an aspiring Hero consists of fifteen years, three hundred sixty-four days of training for their Hero Exam. Fourteen-hour days both in the classroom and in SLAM—learning, honing and perfecting every technique available to defeat villains. Without that, I’m lost. “What am I supposed to do for the next six days?”
She gives me a look often reserved for animal shelter puppies. “The humans watch a lot of TV.”
I watch five days, six hours, and twelve minutes of television. I eat every piece of junk food in
the house and I gain exactly five point three pounds, a fact I am happily ignoring until Max walks into the room and says, “What’s up, fatty?”
I throw a pillow at him.
It bursts in half when he holds out his arm to stop it from hitting him in the face. Tiny feathers float through the air, landing all around us. “Get up,” Max says. “I’m not letting you mope around anymore.”
In an effort to show how I feel about that idea, I slouch further down my bed and pull the comforter over my face. One split second later, all the sheets rip off my bed and I’m gasping for breath with my back on the floor.
“What the hell, Max?” I rub my elbow as I wait for the bruise to heal.
“Heroes don’t sulk in bed. And they sure as hell don’t watch television.”
