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Guess he’s going to make me ask. “What does it do?” I fold my arms in front of my chest. “If it’s supposed to make you invisible, then I have bad news because I can still see you.” I look him from head to toe. “Unfortunately.”
“Ah,” he chuckles loudly. “Banter. Two can play that game.”
“Two could play that game, but I’m afraid the other person doesn’t know how to, seeing as how he’s currently standing here like an idiot and not partaking in any sort of banter.”
“Fine, I’ll banter.” He looks me dead in the eyes. “You’re ugly. And stupid.”
“That’s just insulting me. That isn’t banter at all. You fail.”
He puts a hand on his chest in mock innocence. “I’m sorry, you are correct. For it to count as banter I must insult you in a cleverly disguised way. Let’s see …” He snaps his fingers and points at me while I try, and fail, to refrain from smiling. When he speaks, he uses what is probably the world’s worst fake British accent. “Maci, are you wearing an invisible suit? Because I’m afraid it isn’t working. Which I find rather unfortunate … because you are ugly.”
“I have an invention,” I say. “It’s called Stop Procrastinating. It’s where you stop procrastinating and tell me what happens with that juice you injected.”
He motions for me to follow him to the other side of the room where he pulls out a dusty padded floor mat and props it against the wall. “Ready?” he says. I shrug. “This invention is for Heroes,” he says, taking a few steps back and flexing his fingers. He moves to where the padded wall is to my left and he’s to my right. I tap my foot.
“Patience, grasshopper!” He widens his stance. If it weren’t for the cargo shorts and plain black t-shirt, he’d look exactly like a Hero with the way his legs are apart, hands in a fighting position. “The ‘juice’ as you call it, is actually a powerful ferromagnetic mixture that lasts about an hour in our bodies before the substance is absorbed into our power and the effects wear off.”
Curiosity overwhelms me and his fighter stance has me aching to spar. I haven’t trained in days and I didn’t even realize how much I missed it until now. If the juice gives him super strength or lightning fast speed, then bring it on. I lick my lips and crouch in the ready position. “Do your worst.”
Evan brings his hands to his chest, palms facing each other but not touching. He smirks.
And then my body slams against the padded wall.
I’m stuck for a moment, my head squeezed against the padding, arms and legs sprawled out like a flattened bug on a windshield. Evan lowers his hands and I sink to the floor. I’m not in pain exactly, but my whole body feels weakened. He must have moved so quickly I couldn’t see him? Or maybe it’s an invisible force field? Rising to my hands and knees, I say, “What sort of fresh hell was that?”
“Cool, huh?” He smiles and pretends to pop the collar on his collarless shirt. I hold up one finger for him to wait as I drag my body back into a standing position. I shake it off, regain my focus, and glare at him. Surely I can stop this. “Try it again.”
He sighs as if bored and raises his hand again. Again, my body moves against its own will, and I find myself plastered to the wall, stuck there with some invisible force. When he releases me, I jump to my feet so as not to fall on the floor again like a loser. It takes a lot of strength not to let my weakened muscles slump onto the granite tiles, but I manage. Either his special injection juice is incredibly powerful, or my body is seriously suffering from a week of not training.
“What,” I say between panting, “is that?”
Evan grabs a lemon-lime Gatorade from the mini fridge and tosses it to me. Despite it being lemon lime, I’m so thirsty now I could drink a bottle of booger-flavor Gatorade if I had to. (Not that lemon lime is too far off from that.) When my hands are too weak to twist open the lid, Evan does it for me without so much as a mocking gesture on his part.
“It’s the Juice,” he says. “My invention, not what you’re drinking, obviously.” I nod and tilt my head back, draining the gross yellow liquid in a few gulps. Evan circles around me, poking at my shoulder and lifting my arm, twisting it at the elbow. “You seem to be okay. How are you feeling?”
“Like a weak little baby,” I spit out, more disguised at myself than at Evan for doing this to me. My eyes follow him as he walks around me for the second time.
“That’s how you’re supposed to feel. I’d explain the scientific process behind the juice, but I know your eyes glaze over when I talk about that stuff so I’ll tell you this.” He stops in front of me and takes a big step back, holding up his hand again. “It’s magnetic. It uses the magnetic forces in your power against you. I can push you away, like I did twice, or …” He lifts an eyebrow, flicks his hand, and an unfamiliar sensation whacks into my body.
Before I realize what’s happening, I am pressed into Evan’s chest, my boobs practically flattened against his ribcage, my hands pressing onto his. If he were shorter, our faces would be touching, but as it is, fate has given me a good ten inches of luck. Now my face is only smooshed lips first against his collarbone.
“Let me go,” I mumble against the fabric of his shirt.
“Okay, but you’ll be slammed into the wall again.”
“The wall is better than tasting your clothing,” I mumble in reply. He concedes, and once again I’m wracked with the pain of hitting a concrete wall followed by the numbing desperation of muscles that have given out on me.
“That is amazing,” I whimper from my place on the floor. A small tear rolls down my check but I’m not crying. It’s a result of the muscles in my face losing their stability. Holy crap am I grateful that I peed recently—otherwise Evan’s borrowed sweatpants would be the same color as his favorite Gatorade by now.
Evan squats in front of me and offers a hand to lift me up but I wave it away. No thanks, I’m fine lying on the floor right now. As annoying as it is to have my body rendered so completely useless, I’m not even bothered by it. Because now I know what villains will feel like when they’re hit by the shockwave of magnetic juice from hell. A shudder runs through my body at the mere thought of it.
“Evan,” I gasp. Even my lips are numb. “I want some.”
He squats next to me on the floor and presses his fingers to my wrist. “You can’t have any of this. It’s designed for my DNA. Otherwise, I’d be susceptible to the Juice’s effects as well.” He lifts an eyebrow when I flop over to my back. “It takes a few weeks, but I’ll make some for your DNA, if you want.”
I attempt to smile but Evan tilts his head and narrows his eyebrows, which means it probably doesn’t look like I’m smiling. “Yes,” I gasp, knowing what words I want to say, but not having the energy to say them all. “Make some … me.”
“That’s it, you’re getting up.” Evan hooks his arms under my knees and neck and lifts me off the floor. “I shouldn’t have hit you four times with it. Your body will be mush for at least an hour now.”
