Super Villain Academy 2: Polar Opposites (3 page)

“You’re breathing,” she said. She was maybe seventeen, but she had an affected child-like voice, which reminded Jeff of Marilyn Monroe.

“I’m fine. I…” Jeff had no idea how to explain what happened. They weren’t supposed to be noticed when they were training outside the academy.

The girl smiled, plopped sideways onto her hip, and draped herself across Jeff. “Oh thank goodness,” she said as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Her top threatened to spill its contents. Unacceptably distracting freckle-specked, peaches-and-cream skin and the scent of her skin-tight leather pants completely threw him off guard. Some animal instinct reared up inside him.

Before he acted on his impulse to reach for her and pull her closer, Jeff sat up, spilling the girl and all her luscious skin and hair onto the grass. She laughed and rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand.

“Uh, thanks for your… um… help,” Jeff tested the function of his knees, which had taken the brunt of the impact with the car, before he stood.

The girl rolled onto her back, smiling up at him. She looked like one of Shakespeare’s Mid-Summer’s fairies gone rogue. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Ice, water, or… anything else?” She ran her hand along her inner thigh.

Jeff’s mouth dropped open. He imagined what it would be like to take her up on what she seemed to be offering. He really considered following her into her house. What’s the point of being a villain—or ex-villain—if you don’t take advantage of times like these?

The girl seemed to read his mind. She popped onto her feet, grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt, and dragged him toward her house. Jeff noticed how her hair tumbled all the way down to the attractive swell of her rear, which swayed invitingly as she mounted the steps of her porch.

As soon as Jeff stepped up onto the first step, a knot of anxiety balled up in his stomach. He froze. The sudden halt pulled his shirt from the girl’s grip. She took another step before turning. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

This particular anxiety was caused by one of two things, either a villain or a hero. Jeff still hadn’t figured out which gave him the unsettled feeling, or if perhaps both did, but he was certain that one of the two sat inside waiting for him, which made no sense. It had been a fluke that he’d ended up sprawled on the lawn of this house, so it couldn’t be that whoever was inside waited for Jeff. It must be a coincidence. He looked at the girl. The impossibly gorgeous girl. She was definitely human but she did seem all too familiar with him.

Jeff backed up. “I gotta go.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was my lucky day.” She winked. “But now you know where to find me. My name’s Savannah. Drop by
any
time.” She trailed a finger down her front and stopped just short of, well, you know. Jeff’s mouth hung agape again.

He blinked and shook his head. “Wow.” An earbud had fallen out when he tumbled over the car. He fumbled it back into his ear, then turned, jogged out of her yard, and took the turn he should’ve taken before he ended up in the side of the car. When he was out of sight of the house, he picked up the pace, trying to figure out if he should cut his run short or just run faster in order to make up for the lost time.

Jeff had only met one other girl as bold as Savannah, and that was Mystic. He couldn’t believe there were more girls with brazen personalities out there. At least Mystic had an excuse; Savannah wasn’t even a villain. At least, he didn’t think so. His super instincts were rather pathetic.

Coach yelled at Jeff when he got back late.

“I had a mishap,” Jeff said.

“Did anyone see you?”

“Yeah, but I’d stopped running by the time she saw me, so she’s none the wiser. Everything’s fine, it just delayed me.” Jeff walked into the locker room to shower before heading to his next class, history, which he often arrived too late.

* * * *

Mr. Hammond’s deadpan drone greeted Jeff before he turned into the classroom. “So Glenda was good, but her twin brother Bartholomew was bad. Glenda, being good, and with a conscience and such, had a difficult time mounting an offense against her brother, which meant the white hats were often on the defense. Bart’s rule lasted a long thirty-five years, extending into the mid-1940s, when Glenda died and a new white hat came into power.”

Jeff slunk down the side of the room toward his seat.

“Mr. Tohler, I’m so pleased you’ve arrived. Do you know the name of the white hat who took over after Glenda?”

Mr. Hammond may have been a hero before the balancing but he’s always been a jerk.
“Yes, Mr. Hammond, I do,” Jeff said. He’d stopped slinking and strolled around the back of the room to his seat. He plopped his books down with a louder-than-necessary bang then slid onto his chair. For effect, he winked at Whisper, a cute girl who seemed to have a crush on him. “It was my grandfather, William Bagley.”

“Yes, yes, it was your very own grandfather. He’s the one responsible for knocking Bartholomew Tohler off his perch, now isn’t he?”

Jeff nodded hesitantly. Why was Mr. Hammond smirking?

“Who was Bartholomew Tohler? Your great grandfather, I believe?”

Again, Jeff nodded. He’d only learned his family history in the last few months, and since history wasn’t really his thing, he might have forgotten some of it, or perhaps he didn’t pay close enough attention to his parents’ musings.

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Hammond turned his attention to the class. “That’s when villains started using nicknames. Some of the more notorious ones were Zombie, for his ability to raise armies of dead; Ram, for his ability to turn any object into a battering ram; and The Weatherman. Does anyone know what he did?”

Whisper pumped her hand into the air, and Mr. Hammond pointed to her.

“He caused all sorts of natural disasters,” Whisper said. Her honeyed brown hair was tucked behind her ears, and Jeff noticed earplugs stuffed into her ears so she wouldn’t hear everything around her amplified to the point of blowing her drums. Someone told him she also heard the thoughts of those around her as if they were being whispered in her head. That would suck. She turned and smiled at him, and he realized she’d heard his thought. He half smiled and looked away.

Mr. Hammond stared at Jeff. “Yes, and why exactly did The Weatherman cause these natural disasters? Anyone?” He barely waited for a response. “No? Well, there was no particular reason. He just liked death and destruction. He didn’t profit from it. As a matter of fact, he had to hold a day job in order to feed himself. Does anyone know what he did?”

Jeff was nervous now. Mr. Hammond hadn’t looked away the entire time he was talking.

“No? Well, he had a bicycle repair shop.”

Jeff’s eyes grew wide and his stomach lurched. He didn’t know anything about The Weatherman.

“What? Polar, you looked surprised. Didn’t you know The Weatherman was your paternal grandfather? Interesting.”

It was moments like this when Jeff felt most conflicted about who he actually was. When people called him a hero, he got defensive and claimed not to be, but when he heard about blatant evil and injustice, his blood boiled. How could his grandfather have been so heartless to kill people for no reason at all? Why hadn’t Dad mentioned him when he bragged about the family history? Jeff was sure there’d been no mention of The Weatherman.

“But then again,” Mr. Hammond continued in a nonchalant manner, “when your own father has assisted in a number of mass suicides, what are a few hundred thousand deaths due to natural disasters?”

Jeff worked very hard to keep his expression blank. If what Mr. Hammond said was true, then Jeff’s lineage of villainy was far stronger and more revolting than he’d ever suspected. A couple kids turned to gape at him as if somehow the actions of his father and grandfathers reflected on him. Jeff noted they weren’t all ex-heroes.

“Excuse me, sir!” Trina raised her hand and waved it around a bit.

“Yes, Trina?” Mr. Hammond almost seemed disappointed.

“We all know what Polar’s mom has done during her heroic career, and we all must remember that his maternal grandmother was responsible for forming the Hero Network to assure that those who choose to be heroes fulltime never want for the comforts of life. And, well, of course, there is what Polar himself did.” Trina looked at Jeff with big round doe eyes and a goofy grin.

Holy crap! I’m frickin’ history! My poor kids, if I ever have any, will learn all this, plus me. Great!
He gave Trina a nod and one of his crooked smiles and saw her breath catch. His smile crooked a little further as he chuckled at her reaction. Good girls love a bad boy.

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Hammond admitted. “Polar Tohler is the one responsible for you, Trina, and me and James and Emily all sitting in this room today. Polar Tohler is the one to have righted all the wrongs and wronged all the rights. Only time will tell if this was a good thing or not.”

Jeff schooled his expression, hoping to convince everyone that he didn’t care either way. He wished he could convince himself.

Chapter 4

Kids streamed from the academy past Jeff. His gaze hopped from head to head searching for the sheen of black hair, though his mind was somewhere else completely. He leaned against the column at the top of the steps, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, tipping his chin and managing half of a fabricated smile for anyone who greeted him. Part of him couldn’t wait to confront his dad about the mass suicide accusation Mr. Hammond had sprung in class, and the other part of him never wanted to know.

Finally, Oceanus pushed through the door, and Jeff felt his tension melt away at the sight of her.

“Where were you at lunch today?” he asked as she approached. “I missed you.”

Oceanus hugged her books to her chest. “I had studying, I mean research, to do.”

Jeff wrapped his arm around her as they walked down the stairs together. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in her scent.

Oceanus had transferred to FVA after they’d ended the world together. She lived at the academy, whereas he’d moved home under Mother’s orders. Outside of class time, they’d been pretty inseparable, though. At the least, Jeff walked her to her dorm after school every day. He didn’t want to just drop her off though. Not today. “Want to go get a burger or something?”

Oceanus shook her head and stared at the sidewalk.

“Ice cream?” Jeff asked.

“No. I just want to go lie down,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you feeling good?” Jeff rubbed his palm up and down her upper arm; just touching her gave him a thrill. He pulled her tighter against his side. Was she holding herself stiffly?

She shrugged. “Bad day.”

“You too, huh?” Jeff mumbled.

Oceanus was stonily silent and kept her head angled toward the pavement throughout the walk across campus. Jeff tried not to wonder why, distracting himself by finding faces of kids he knew and being the first to greet them as they approached, as if being social would fill in the awkward silence and make everything all right. Jeff was never the social one, so his greetings were met with more than one raised eyebrow or frown. When he and Oceanus arrived at the dorm, she walked straight through the common room and over to the elevator. Jeff wasn’t allowed past the common room.

“Don’t you want to hang out a bit?” Jeff asked. “We could talk about your day.”

Oceanus looked alarmed at the suggestion and shook her head.

Disappointment swelled through Jeff. He had hoped to be able to talk about his own rotten day. He’d planned to tell Oceanus about the psycho Savannah, knowing Oci would get a good laugh at Jeff’s discomfort, but he’d really hoped to talk to her about his dad. He’d like to talk to someone about it before he saw his dad.

“You sure?” Jeff asked.

Oceanus nodded and stepped onto the elevator before the doors closed. She didn’t even look at him again.

Jeff rubbed his eyes until stars burst behind the closed lids. Now he could add another mystery to his sucky day. 1. The marvel that is psycho Savannah, and the hyper-anxiety he’d felt at her house. 2. His family history, which included two mass murderers. 3. A suddenly sullen and seemingly mad, or scared, girlfriend.

Jeff looked at the elevator doors, as if he could still see Oceanus. Was she acting this way because she’d heard about his dad and grandfather? Was she freaked out about Jeff being the descendent of a mass murderer and an assistant mass murderer?

Jeff ran his fingers through his hair, scraping his long bangs from his eyes, but they fell right back where they’d been. Long bangs had one advantage: he could avoid greeting people when he didn’t feel like it, such as at this moment. He tilted his head, letting his bangs swing forward like a visor.

“Hey there, Polar! Did you walk Oceanus home? Of course you did! You always do. If she were my girlfriend, I’d walk her home too. But I live here, so it would make sense.” Snort.

Jeff sighed; there were some people for which long bangs offered no shelter. He flicked his head sideways so that his hair flopped into its normal position. “Hey, Myron.”

“Are you and Oceanus going to the sock hop tomorrow night?”

Jeff wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Villains never go to the dances. Have you noticed that? They never go!” Myron spoke a mile a minute in a high-pitched, nasally voice. He was the epitome of nerd, the reason behind the stereotype. Jeff really didn’t know what Myron’s super abilities were, but he suspected they involved talking his enemy to death.

“We aren’t villains anymore, Myron,” Jeff said. He stopped walking and glared at him. “Are you following me for a reason?” Myron had followed him all the way out to Jeff’s car.

“Oh! No. Just got carried away, I guess,” Myron snorted again and shrugged. “See ya later, Polar.”

Jeff got into his car and started it. He fiddled with radio stations until he found one playing a mellow symphonic piece. When the inside of his head buzzed like a chain saw, nothing soothed better than a clarinet concerto.

He backed out of the parking place, put the car in forward gear, eased his foot down on the gas, and then slammed on his brakes. A large dog with icy-blue eyes stood smack dab in the path of the car. The black and charcoal gray mottling of the dog’s fur gave it a dark, manic look, like anything would send it into a fury of snarling teeth and guttural growls. It stared directly at Jeff, as if appraising him. Jeff gunned the engine, letting the car lurch forward. The dog didn’t even flinch. Lifting its nose, it sniffed the air, and looked at Jeff again. Then it huffed and bounded away.