The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3) (14 page)

I stare at her in disbelief. “You
want
to work with me?”

“I didn’t say that. And I don’t care what you do. Transfer to the other class. It doesn’t matter.”

“Except that you might get murdered by bad guys. If I’m not there to zap them.”

Her face turns a little red and she bites her lip. “I don’t need your help.”

Right.

“I was just being
nice
,” she adds, though I’m not sure what part of that she thought counted as “being nice.” “Working with you would probably mess up my GPA anyway. It’s probably a good thing you’re transferring.”

She doesn’t actually look at me while she says any of that, which kind of makes it unconvincing. “I’m not the one who was getting a
B
last semester.”

Her nostrils flare. “You might have had a better grade than me, but then you went and screwed it all up. I can see why Riley doesn’t want to work with you anymore.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“You might be better at fieldwork than me”—she shrugs, I guess to emphasize how unimportant it is that I’m better than her at something—“but I can’t trust you not to suddenly do something crazy, like zap somebody, and get us both in trouble. Just like you did to Riley.”

“I didn’t
do
anything to him.”

“You got him in trouble.”

“Not on purpose. And a minute ago, you wanted to work with me
because
I zapped somebody. Because you’re afraid of getting murdered by supervillains. So which is it?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs and rests her chin in her hands. “But if your own best friend can’t trust you, then how am I supposed to?”

S
ARAH STARES AT HER plate of Justice Fries and Hero Sauce, not making eye contact with me. It’s been like this all night. Me, her, and Riley are sitting in a booth at one of the superhero-themed diners downtown. It’s Friday night, but it’s after nine so it’s not too crowded. She and Riley are sitting across from me, and I feel kind of like a third wheel, especially when Sarah won’t even look at me. And I’m still mad at Riley for choosing Mason.

And because I would never have chosen to eat at a place like this in a million years. Well, except for that one time me and Kat came here and I made the waiter—who was sweating in his polyester superhero costume, complete with its own cape—translate the theme names of every item on the menu. When he said, in a really exasperated voice, that the Liberty Burger was just a hamburger, I gasped and asked if that meant it was still all-American.

“Sarah. It’s
fine
.” I try not to sound too frustrated when I say that. I take a drink from my milkshake—the Golden City Salted-Caramel Swirl—so she doesn’t see how annoyed I am.

She shakes her head. “It’s not fine. You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” I’m not. Or, at least, not at her.

She gives me this skeptical look. “I almost burnt down the retirement home. I thought I was better, and I wasn’t. And then... I just made things worse with Kat. I shouldn’t have called you Renegade.”

“I think saying you almost burnt down the retirement home is giving yourself too much credit. Jerry was the only one on fire, and he’s fireproof.” Or at least while he’s using his power. “No real harm done.”

“A couple of the guys at the home said they’d take a look at my alert bracelet. They used to be in R&D before they retired. I don’t usually accept outside help—”

“When do you even get offers for that?”

“—but this is for the good of the retirement home. It’s going to save lives.”

“Right. And, anyway, I called you Cosine, which was...” Worse than her calling me Renegade? A mistake? Neither of those things, as far as I’m concerned, but Kat was obviously pretty upset about it. “If you’ve been picking up on any anger vibes coming from me, you should know they’re aimed at your boyfriend. Not you.” I glare at Riley, just to hit it home.

“Seriously?” Riley sets down his all-American Liberty Burger. “It’s been a week.”

“Yes, seriously.” I don’t know why he expects me to have forgotten already that he betrayed me. “And it’s been four days.”

“But I told you why. And this isn’t permanent, X. I thought you understood.”

“Riiiiight.”

Sarah glances back and forth between us. I’m sure she’s heard all about it already. “If you’re not mad, then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I was busy,” I mutter. “With school.”

“During break, I mean.”

Now it’s my turn to look away. I play with the straw wrapper from my milkshake, rolling it up into a little ball and then untangling it again. Obviously I spent my time with Kat, while she was still home. And obviously she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of hanging out with Sarah again. And maybe I could have called, but I didn’t want to have to tell Sarah no if she invited me over or something. It would seem like I was mad at her, which I’m not, plus she’s my friend. And if I didn’t tell her no and went over to hang out, then Kat would be pissed at me. And not telling Kat about it would feel like lying to her, so there’s no way I wouldn’t have told her. So, yeah. Maybe I was avoiding Sarah.

“I hardly get to see Kat. And she was gone for part of break, so... You know.”

Sarah nods. “I saw Kat’s face when I called you Renegade. She hates me, and she hates that I’m your sidekick.”

“You’re on hiatus,” Riley reminds her. “You’re not his sidekick right now. And even if you were going around patrolling for bad guys, it would be all three of us, wouldn’t it?”

Before we were friends, Riley tried to steal Sarah from me and get her to sidekick for him instead. And by the time we decided we didn’t hate each other’s guts, Sarah decided she was taking a break from superheroing for a while. So we never actually discussed all three of us working together.

“I don’t know if I can work with you,” I tell Riley. “I have to think about my reputation. I wouldn’t want to be seen with you and have someone think I’m some straight-up, League-abiding do-gooder. I might lose my vigilante funding. So, you know, maybe ask me again next year when I’ve had some time to think about it.”

Riley throws down the Justice Fry he’s holding, which is remarkably similar to a plain, regular French fry. It lands in the middle of his blob of ketchup—er, I mean Hero Sauce—getting totally covered in it. “This is why I’m not working with you this semester. Because you never cut me any slack.
You
mess up, because you can’t be bothered to follow the rules, no matter what the consequences are for anybody else, and then you expect everyone to just let it go. But
I
choose to do something you don’t like, that I wouldn’t even have needed to do if it wasn’t for you screwing up, and you’re all over me about it.”

“I did something you didn’t like,
once
, and you replaced me.”

“
Boys
.” Sarah gives us both stern looks. “Don’t. This is history repeating itself.”

Whatever. “I’m not going to go back to breaking his fingers, if that’s what you mean.” Me and Riley are still friends. And while I might be considering taping a small dead fish just inside his locker, where he might not notice it at first, that doesn’t mean I’m going back to my old ways of wishing he didn’t exist.

“
Finger
. As in just the one,” Riley corrects me.

“I’m not talking about that,” Sarah says. “I mean like Curtis and your dad.”

Riley scrunches up his forehead. “My dad and Curtis worked together for years, ever since they were at Heroesworth. They were best friends.”

I turn sideways and lean against the wall, putting my legs up onto the booth bench and stretching out. “Let me guess, before they were partners, one of them ditched his half-villain friend after their first semester together and never worked with him again?”

“I didn’t ditch you!”

“I heard Curtis and your mom talking,” Sarah goes on. “The other night, when we were in your room, watching that documentary I got you, and I went to go get some water. They were in the living room, talking kind of quietly. They shut up when they noticed me, but before that, Curtis was saying he wished he’d been there more for Miles, and your mom was comforting him. She was saying Curtis didn’t need to feel guilty, that he was always a really good friend to your dad and to your family, but Curtis didn’t seem to think so.”

The anger drains from Riley’s face. He swallows, looking kind of uncomfortable. “It’s called
survivor’s guilt
. I feel it, too, sometimes. A lot, I mean. So does my mom. It’s not really surprising that Curtis worries about it. He was supposed to be there that morning, when there was that bus bombing, but he was late for work, and my dad went out without him. If he’d been there, maybe he could have done something.”

“Yeah, but the way he was talking... it sounded like he and your dad were in a fight. When it happened. So the last things they said to each other weren’t very nice.”

“I never heard that.”

“Well, he sounded pretty upset about it. And now you guys are fighting.”

“We’re not going to die,” I tell her. “We’ve got plenty of time to be pissed at each other.” I say that last part playfully enough, expecting Riley to at least smirk at it. But instead he gets this really serious look on his face.

“My dad didn’t know he was going to die that day. If they were in a fight, maybe they thought they had more time, too.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t live our lives like we think we’re going to die tomorrow. I’m not going to pretend I don’t care that you abandoned me.”

“I didn’t abandon you.” Riley’s voice is quiet, like he really means it this time and isn’t just saying it out of some defensive reflex. “I’m sorry, X. I mean... you know.”

“And I’m sorry you mistakenly think that douchebag is a better partner than me. Oh, wait, no, I’m not.”

“See,” Riley says, suddenly annoyed again. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Sarah finishes chewing the Justice Fry she stuffed in her mouth. “Just promise me you guys still have each other’s backs.”

“Of course we do. And, Sarah, even if my dad and Curtis were fighting... Well, it’s not like they weren’t still watching out for each other. It’s not the reason my dad died.”

Sarah looks like she has something to say to that. Like she really wants to argue with him. But then, whatever it is, she seems to think better of it and keeps her mouth shut.

“We’re not even working together this semester,” I tell her, trying to sound reassuring. “He’s got Mason now.” And I’ve got Amelia. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“W
hat if we don’t find anything?” Amelia whines. “How are we supposed to know if it’s a front or not?”

We’re on our way to scope out a laundromat that’s rumored to be a front for the Red Bandit, a supervillain who specializes in black-market goods. Our first mission is just simple recon, but the way Amelia’s acting, you’d think we were storming some villain fortress of doom.

“And,” she says, “what if it
is
a front and we get caught? What if they have guns?!”

“Wow,” Kat says on the phone, “that’s, like, the second time she’s asked that.”

“Third,” I correct her. “She won’t shut up about it.”

“Some people can’t take a hint.”

Amelia lets out a high-pitched scoff. Her breath mists in the air. “Are you guys talking about me?”

“
No
.” I roll my eyes at her, like she’s being ridiculous. “Seriously,” I say into the phone, “it’s like she thinks we’re going to be forced to show our thumbs at the door.”

“You
are
talking about me!”

“If you have to show your thumbs,” Kat says, “then you’ll know it’s a front and you can go home.”

“Exactly.”

Amelia stops on the sidewalk in front of me, waving a hand in my face.

“That’s really annoying. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a conversation?” She of all people should understand how important phone time is.

“You’re supposed to be paying attention. We’re
almost
there. And we still don’t know what we’re doing in all the scenarios.”

“What scenarios?”

She throws out her hand and starts counting on her fingers. “Not finding anything, finding supervillains, finding supervillains with rayguns, finding supervillains with powers, getting attacked, getting captured, getting
killed
—”

“Whoa. You have a plan for if we get killed? Won’t we be out of commission at that point?”

Kat laughs. “I think she means she has someone on standby, ready to tell the press your tragic story if you guys don’t come back.”

“I don’t have a plan for getting killed!” Amelia says. “I don’t have a plan for
anything
. We’re supposed to be figuring this out, but instead you’re on the phone. With a
supervillain
.”

She says that like talking to a supervillain makes me extra irresponsible. “Wow. Just because we go to Heroesworth doesn’t mean you get extra credit for being letterist.”

“That’s funny,” Kat says, “because I
do
get extra credit for it. Double points for making the enemy my sex slave, but only if I have proof.”