Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) (29 page)

“Gavin is fine,” she replied, not looking so sure. Her obvious concern made me feel even more like a jerk.

“I know he is,” I agreed. “I’ll come right over after I wake up.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Emery offered.

I nodded, and we crossed the street silently. I kept my eyes glued to the ground.

Under my window, I started to whisper good-bye, but Emery seized my arm and spun me around to him. He took my face into his hands, as his mother had, and brought his face close to mine, staring deep into my eyes beneath the flickering light of the streetlamps. The intensity in his gaze caused my heart to thump like a rabbit.

“We’ll sort this out later,” he whispered his mother’s words. The promise affected me very differently this time. I believed it.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered in agreement.

He smiled. “I wouldn’t let it be any other way. But we should stop tempting fate. Your dad could wake up early and open the family room blinds—”

Before he could finish, I squirmed out of his grasp and bent my knees, prepared to spring to my window.

“Get rest, Cassidy,” I heard him whisper as I dove into my room.

Catching the carpet, I flipped up onto my feet, whipped around, and ran back to the window. I leaned out to smile down at my friend and waved. Emery waved back, then turned to leave.

A voice came from behind me. “Are you waving at Emery?”

I almost fell out of the window.

The blood drained from my face as I straightened up and shut the window. Slowly, I turned around to face my little brother.

Chazz sat up in my bed, sporting Spiderman pajamas and staring at me. He scratched his head on the right side where his red hair was flattened from sleeping.

My mind raced a million miles a minute for an excuse. How much had he seen?

His next remark answered that question. “You can jump real high.”

I groped for words.

“I like how you do flips,” he went on, and added while yawning, “How many people did you save in the night?”

I fell to my knees.
He knows. I am in so much trouble.

Chazz’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?” he asked loudly.

Alarm knocked me to my senses. “Shh,” I cautioned, putting a finger to my lips. “You’ll wake Mom and Dad. That’s the last thing I need right now.”

His cheeks reddened with embarrassment, filling me with regret. There was no reason to speak harshly to him.

“No worries, buddy.” I got up and went to the bed. “Brrrrr, it’s freezing in here. You should have shut the window.”

“But then you couldn’t get back in,” he pointed out in a very soft whisper. Clearly he didn’t want to make any more mistakes.

I sat on the bed and pulled off Emery’s socks, which were disgusting from the damp grass in our side yard.

Chazz continued talking in that breathy voice: “I always leave the window open for you. No matter how cold it is.”

“You can talk a little louder,” I whispered, climbing under the covers and scooting down so we were eye to eye. “How much do you know?”

He beamed. “I know you’re a superhero.”

“When did you figure it out?” I asked, deciding not to dispute the
superhero
label.

He gave me a patient look, as if I were thick as a brick. “You wore Nate’s ninja costume when you saved Daddy, and you used my purple face paint—but that’s okay. I don’t like that color.”

I wondered how he knew I had used his
face paints. The kid was more observant than I had given him credit for.

“You’d make a good detective,” I told him.

He nodded in agreement.

“What else have you deduced?”

“Huh?”

“Figured out.”

“That you dressed like a Sasquatch and saved that old lady from being eaten by Roga. You’re real fast, and strong, and a really good fighter, and you protect people in the middle of the night from bad guys with your superhero friends.”

“Superhero friends?”

“Yeah, those other guys.”

I thought for a moment and realized he was referring to the Rain City Superheroes, a group of Seattle residents who wear superhero costumes and patrol the streets at night.

“You’re right about everything, except me teaming up with other superheroes. I work alone.”

“No, you don’t,” he countered. “Emery is your sidekick.”

Burying my face in the pillow to smother laughter, I imagined Emery and me running around in Batman and Robin costumes, which probably wasn’t far from what Chazz envisioned. When I was done laughing, I pulled my face off the pillow and looked at Chazz. Lips puckered, he appeared perturbed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, grinning. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I just pictured Emery and me in Batman and Robin costumes.”

He didn’t see the humor in this.

“Now I’m going to be really serious, because this is a serious matter.” I dropped the grin and became all business. “Who have you told?”

He gave me a stunned look. “Nobody.”

“Not even Mom?”

“
Nobody
,” he asserted, like I was slow on the uptake.

“Wow. I’m impressed.” I truly was. What six-year-old could keep a secret this big, even from his mom? “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

He rolled his eyes. I seemed to have worn his patience thin. “Because superheroes need secret identities so the bad guys can’t find them and hurt their family.”

I stared at him, feeling like I had been kicked in the gut.
How long has he lived with this fear? Four months?
It had never occurred to me that if Chazz suspected my secret, he would also be scared for our family’s safety.

“Oh, Chazzy.” I hugged him, heartsick. “Our family is safe.”

Even as I said this, I knew it was a lie. Chazz was right. If my “condition” became known, we were all at risk.
And King has the towel soaked with my blood, my DNA. He’s probably using it to make mutants.

Pulling back, I looked into my brother’s trusting eyes. I had to be straight with him, to a degree. Leading him to believe there was no danger could have devastating consequences.

“You’re very, very smart and wise. There are evil people who can’t find out about me, so keeping my secret is
very
important. You, Emery, Mrs. Phillips, and me are the only people in the whole wide world who know it”—
for now
—“and we have to keep it that way.”

He nodded, eyes wide. “I will. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

I winced. I hated that phrase.

“Thank you.” I considered asking him not to draw pictures of me in superhero costumes anymore, but decided against it. The request would embarrass him, and who would take his drawings seriously anyway? “This is important, too. Act like you don’t know a thing around Emery and me. We don’t want anyone to get suspicious. But if you need to talk about it, let me know. How about we come up with a secret signal?”

“Like this?” He held up his index and middle finger to form a V.

“Peace?”

“No,” he said, giving me the eye roll again. “V for Victory, ’cause we’re going to have victory over the supervillains.”

“I like that.”

“Thanks.” He laid a wet kiss on my cheek. “You taste like popcorn,” he remarked.

“Kind of salty?” I assumed he’d tasted saltwater.

“Yeah. You should take a bath.”

“I will after I sleep. Cuddle with me?”

Chazz scooted closer and nestled his head on my shoulder. “Cassidy? Oh, wait.” He held up his fingers in a V, as if raising his hand in class to speak.

I giggled. “Yes, Chazz?”

“How many people did you save in the night?”

“One. Just one.”

~~~

I woke to loud banging on my bedroom door.

“Breakfast!” Nate yelled. “Get your lazy butt out of bed.”

I jolted upright, sending Chazz tumbling to the floor. “Nate, you jerk! You made me knock Chazz on the floor,” I yelled back, feeling cantankerous. I’m not what you would call a morning person.

Chazz stood up, rubbing his head. “I’m okay. My head’s tough.” He knocked it with his fist in case there was any doubt.

I cracked a smile. “So I see. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be down after I shower. Chazz—” I gave him our secret signal.

He made a V in return and ran out of the room.

My smile lingered as I listened to him trot down the stairs. For some reason, having my little brother privy to my secret comforted me, maybe because it was nice having one member of my family that I no longer had to deceive.

“Better call Emery,” I said to myself.

The smile pulled down into a frown as I momentarily grieved the loss of my iPhone, which could have been halfway to Alaska for all I knew. Sitting up, I swiped my other cell phone off the nightstand and poised my finger to dial. My eyes slid to the alarm clock: 8:00 a.m. Emery could still be sleeping. It had been a long, exhausting night for him, after all.

I’ll just go over after breakfast
, I decided, gathering clean clothes.

After a heavenly shower, I joined my family for eggs and bacon. When Nate and I finished doing the dishes, I headed to Emery’s house. I rapped softly on the door and gathered my coat collar around my neck to ward off the cold, glancing up and down the street. The door began to open. I turned and almost jumped out of my skin. Mr. Phillips stared at me with annoyance, his head bandaged and his face purple with bruises.

“Well . . .” I smiled and resisted the urge to rub my eyes, in case he was a mirage.
How can this be possible?
He was at death’s door only seven hours ago.
“Well . . .” I said again, scrambling for something to add. “Ummmm . . .”

Mr. Phillips winced, as if my voice caused him pain.

In a stroke of genius, I flipped my palms up and commented with forced cheer, “It feels like snow in the air, doesn’t it?”

He stared at me like I had a screw loose. “Are you here to do work for Serena?” He winced again, as if his own voice hurt his ears, too.

“Yep, yep.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s why I’m here.”

He shook his head and looked like he immediately regretted doing so. Atrocity had gone to town on him. “Serena and Emery are still asleep, strangely.” He paused, as if considering just how strange this occurrence was. “But you’re welcome to come in.”

He stepped aside for me with some difficulty, flinching as he turned his torso, which suggested broken ribs. I could commiserate. It also occurred to me that I might be responsible for some of the damage. I hadn’t exactly rescued him gently.

“After you.” Mr. Phillips gestured toward the kitchen. Apparently, the kitchen was where he thought I planned to start working. It was as good a place as any.

“Thanks,” I said with an abundance of brightness. Brightness requires loudness. I couldn’t believe Serena and Emery were sleeping through this.

The trek down the hall was uncomfortable with Mr. Phillips behind me. We walked in silence, aside from an occasional grunt of pain here and there.

In the kitchen, I made a beeline for the sink, grateful to see dirty dishes, but bummed that Emery’s dad had followed me in. As if I couldn’t wait to get the dishes in the dishwasher, I flipped on the water with vigor and went to work.

From the corner of my eye, I watched Mr. Phillips turn on the coffeemaker, then lumber to the table. Chair legs scraped across the floor. I cringed, feeling his pain when I heard him fall heavily into the chair.

“Cassidy,” he said seconds later, as I rinsed and stacked dishes like there was no tomorrow.

“Yes, Mr. Phillips?” My voiced pitched. I gave myself a mental kick in the rear and continued to work.

“My appearance has obviously made you uncomfortable,” he surmised, partially correctly.

His physical appearance hadn’t thrown me; his being there did. I had thought that I would have more time to prepare before seeing him again, and I certainly hadn’t anticipated that I would be alone when I did.

“A little,” I admitted. Being truthful was probably wise. Who wouldn’t be uneasy about someone being so beat up? Forcing myself to turn around, I teased, “Bar fight?”

This was a joke he’d used to explain why he looked like he’d been on the losing end of a fight when I first met him—right before he’d fed me some line about falling down airplane stairs.

Mr. Phillips barked a laugh, which turned into a coughing fit. He went rigid, and his face turned pale as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Do you need help?” I rushed over and sat beside him, placing a hand on his arm. “Do you want me to get Serena?”

Coughing and doubled over in pain, he waved me off.

“But your ribs are broken,” I persisted, panicked that a rib may have pierced his lung. “Oh, why didn’t you just stay in the hospital?”

His head jerked up, and his eyes met mine. I froze.

As he got the coughing fit under control, he stared into my eyes like a mouse mesmerized by a cobra. Neither of us blinked. Unable to look away, I watched the pupils in those black orbs expand with understanding and could almost see the equations running through his head, adding up everything that had occurred over the last four months:

2x(52y+19z) + 32(30 +15x) + 9x(22x+10) = C+A+S+S+I+D+Y

“Y-you?” he stammered with shock on his face. “How?”

“Gotta go.” I jumped to my feet and hightailed it to the front door.

“Cassidy!” Mr. Phillips called from the kitchen.

I grabbed the front doorknob with trembling hands.

“Cassidy!” he called again, struggling to the hallway.

Emery came running down the stairs.

I bolted out the front door and slammed it as Mr. Phillips bellowed, “Serena! What did you do to that child?”

Twenty-Three

What Fate Awaits

I flung myself into our foyer and slammed the door, flattening my back against it. My heart hammered behind my ribs so hard that I thought it might crack a few of mine, too.

Keep it together, Cassidy. Keep it together
. I spun around and set the locks on the door, as if they would keep out whatever might be coming our way.