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Because w
hen I finish, I have to apologize to Evan.
A trip down the Green Mile would be more enjoyable right about now. Since the elevator and its surrounding walls are glass, I find Evan on the third floor without much effort. The doors open with a hydraulic swoosh, which might as well be a gong announcing my presence amidst all this silence.
Evan’s back is to me as he stands near a table full of test tubes and microscopes, his hair pulled into a ponytail. He wears plastic gloves and has a syringe in one hand. I know he hears me but he doesn’t turn around.
You can do this, Maci. It’s just like talking an evil villain into releasing his hostages. And by just like it, I mean it’s not even remotely close to being like it at all. “Hello,” I say. Okay, good. That’s progress. Now swallow your pride and apologize.
“There’s food in the fridge,” he says. His voice is too flat to decipher his mood.
“I’m not hungry.” I take a step closer, eyeing him as he sucks a red liquid into the syringe. The needle taps against the glass as he sets it on the table. One at a time, he peels the gloves off his hands and my heartbeat quickens as he turns to face me. “What do you need?”
My fingers twist into knots. “Iwanttoapologize.”
His lips squish to one side of his mouth. “Uh. Okay.”
“I mean it,” I say, stepping closer to him as I bare my soul. “You were right, about all of it. I was selfish, stuck up, and rude. I should have never came here and made your life hell. I don’t even know why I showed up here … I panicked.”
“You haven’t made my life hell. You’ve made it … interesting.”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall. There’s really nothing else I can say. Except, “Thank you for putting up with me.” I frown, first in sadness and then in pain because frowning makes my temple hurt. Evan must think I’m about to cry because he jumps across the railing between us and puts his arms around me.
“Hug it out.” He pats my back. “Hug it out. We’re good.”
“I’m not crying,” I say into his chest as I push away from his unneeded hug. Geez, not all women are hormone-driven psychos who need a continuous flow of hugs to make them feel better. I plaster a smile on my face to replace the glare that I’m sure was there just a moment ago. “Friends?” I ask.
“Friends,” he says. My chest feels lighter. He let me off easy, but I’ll take it.
“So what are you working on?” I pick up a glass slide with a red liquid on it. Blood, most likely.
“My gene-test project.” He takes the slide away from me and sets it carefully back in its place.
“Did you finally get some villain blood?” I nod to the slide.
“That’s mine.” He pulls open a drawer, revealing dozens of additional slides with blood on them. “And so are all of these.” He gives me a thin, lips-squished-together smile. “I’m isolating different genes for analysis so when I do get villain blood, I can compare the two and find my hypothesis, which states that one of them will be different and easily identifiable.”
“But isn’t there like, thousands of genes? There’s no way you can analyze all that in your lifetime.”
He nods. “Try thirty thousand. I’m focusing my research on the five hundred genes Supers have that humans don’t. That’s achievable in a few years.”
“We only have five hundred more genes than humans?” I ask. He nods, and I know he’s crazy smart, but I still find that hard to believe. Supers are so different from the humans, with their fragile, disease-prone bodies. Not to mention their prejudice, wars, and inability to provide basic food and shelter for their own people. If it weren’t for us stepping in to stop their wars, feed their poor, and protect them from natural disasters, I’m certain the humans would have died out centuries ago.
“Wow,” I say, absentmindedly picking up another glass slide. “I thought we were vastly different from them.”
He takes the slide away from me. “We are,” he says, tapping his sternum. “We have that whole second set of magnetic veins thing going on, and they sure as hell don’t have that. We’re a completely different species. That’s why we don’t mate with humans.”
“Mate? What are we, animals? Seriously, Evan. Who says words like ‘mate’ to refer to sex?”
His tanned cheeks turn red when I say the s-word. I roll my eyes. “Why aren’t you testing our silver power? If that’s what makes us different from humans, wouldn’t the villains have different genes in their power?” I stand a little taller, having provided an insanely smart idea.
That’s when he opens a second, and third … and fourth drawer of glass slides. “I have,” he says. “I’ve exhausted research on our power. But it’s all worthless until Central allows me to get a sample of villain power.” He swings the drawers closed. “Doesn’t look like that will ever happen.”
“I wish I had some encouraging words for you, but Central seems to be a total jerk every time I’ve ever asked for something.” I smile, trying to make light of my un-Hero situation. “Which was once, by the way.”
“I can see why you tend to take matters into your own hands.” The sinister way he says it makes me to do a double take. I’m not sure if I should agree or disagree with his observation. “I’ve thought about faking Hero too,” he says in a low voice.
A sliver of exhilaration rushes up my spine. “Seriously?”
