The Trials of Renegade X (9 page)

“What?” I ask, trying not to wince as the wind rattles the whole attic and my legs kind of turn to liquid.

The beam from her flashlight falls directly on the crotch of my pajamas, which are green flannel and have pictures of holly sprigs, reindeer, and snowflakes all over them, except for the crotch, where it says, Do not open until X-mas! Believe it or not, my grandma got me these last Christmas. I’m sad because it hasn’t even been a year and I’m already growing out of them. Mom’s right—I have gotten taller.

Amelia’s cheeks turn pink, and she hurries to point her flashlight somewhere else. She decides on my face. I squint in the brightness and hold my hand out to block the light.

“Oh, good,” she says, sounding relieved that she’s not in a horror movie after all and isn’t the last person left alive. “You’re up.” She fidgets, shifting her weight from foot to foot and making the floor creak. She scratches her nose with her free hand and points her flashlight at my shins, where the legs of my pajamas come up a little high. “The power went out.”

“I noticed.” And my fingers still burn a little from the wall socket exploding on me. Not that the power going out was my fault or anything. All I did was plug in my cell phone—how was I supposed to know the attic had such crappy wiring?

“I thought you might want some company. Because it’s kind of spooky up here when it storms, and now that the power’s out ...” She swallows. “It’s scary enough for me, and I’m not afraid of ... you know. Being up high.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, pretending the idea of me being even the least bit terrified of heights is news to me. “It’s almost midnight. Shouldn’t you be in bed? I know you need an
awful lot
of beauty sleep.”

She glares at me. “I can’t sleep.” She points her flashlight at my face again, then realizes what she’s doing and focuses it on the wall. She twists the end of it, playing with the amount of light it gives out. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t be able to sleep, either. So, do you want to play
Capes and Robbers
with me? It’s a board game. We
always
play it when the power goes out. It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Wow. That sounds
so fun
. Let me guess, you want me to be the robber?”

“Well, you can’t play with just capes. But we could watch a movie instead. My laptop has enough battery power left.” She gestures to it, tucked under her other arm.

It wasn’t there a second ago, so she must have used her power to summon it to her. It’s bright pink and kind of stands out, even in the dark, and was an early sixteenth-birthday present from Gordon and Helen. Her birthday isn’t until late October, which is still almost two months away, but they wanted to give her something for starting Heroesworth. All I got for my birthday was this lousy
X
, and getting shoved off a building, though I don’t think that counts. I didn’t get anything for starting at Heroesworth, either, though Helen did leave some informational pamphlets on the dangers of teen sex lying around for me to find. Because she’s thoughtful like that.

“Or we could, you know, hang out. Just until the lights come back on.” Her flashlight flickers, like it might go out, and she sucks in her breath. “
Please?
”

“I don’t know. I mean, here you are, the same person who claims she knew about that fake bomb trick in Intro to Heroism, yet didn’t have the decency to warn me about it. That doesn’t really sound like anybody I want to spend time with. At least, not at the reasonable discount I would have given you. I’ll have to charge you the full hundred dollars an hour, even if we’re just talking.”

Her nostrils flare. “Okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She thinks I’m joking about the money.

“Not good enough.” I start to shut the door in her face.

“Wait! I ... I didn’t actually know about it.” She says it really quietly while staring at her feet.

I cup a hand to my ear. “What was that?”

“I said I didn’t actually
know
, all right?” She waves her arms, her flashlight sending shadows across the walls. “Are you happy now?”

“A little.”

“
Good.
” She sounds exasperated, as if I’m the one in the wrong here. Then the wind picks up again, sounding like a thousand angry ghosts pounding on the walls. A roll of thunder shakes the house, rattling the windows, and Amelia cringes, letting out a tiny whimpering sound. She hugs her laptop, clutches her flashlight, and squeezes her eyes shut until it’s over.

I’m pressed against the doorframe, holding onto it for dear life. My heart’s pounding so hard, I can feel my pulse in my teeth. Cold dread slips through my veins. I picture going back into my room and facing this alone. In the pitch-black darkness with the storm outside and me feeling like the floor’s going to give way any second. At least Amelia comes with a flashlight. “All right,” I tell her. “You can come in. For a little while. But only because you pretty much begged me.”

Amelia thunks down on my bed and sets up her laptop. She pats the spot next to her when she sees me still standing by the door, as if I need to be invited to sit on my own furniture, especially my bed. Well, Alex’s bed. But whatever.

I take a deep breath and make my way across the room in the dark, cringing as the floorboards creak and sometimes give a little beneath me. At least when I lived with Mom it was on the ground floor. She would have never banished me to an attic. Kicked me out of the house, sure. But this?

The laptop turns on, the screen seeming extra bright in the darkness, and Amelia turns off her flashlight. I sit down next to her, tempted to keep one foot on the floor so I can feel if it’s falling out from under me. But then I think if it’s going to fall, there’s nothing I can do about it, and maybe it’s better not to know.

Amelia’s staring at me in the glow from her laptop, her hand poised above the touchpad but not doing anything, even though she’s supposedly getting a movie ready.

“
What?
” I snap.

“Nothing. Geez.”

“I know being in a boy’s room is a totally new experience for you, but you don’t have to gawk.” Especially since I know she doesn’t actually have the hundred bucks and I’m doing her a huge favor by letting her sit here with me.

“Uh, hello? I’ve been in here before. This was
my
room before it was Alex’s and before it was yours.” She says it in a “so there” voice. “Plus, I’ve been in your room dozens of times when you lived downstairs.”

“Oh, really?” I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s funny, because I can count the number of times you’ve been in there,
that I know of
, on two hands.”

She realizes her mistake and tries to backtrack. “Well, er, maybe not
that
many.”

“You’ve been going into my room, you mean. When I’m not there.” I hope she didn’t find the embarrassing baby pictures of her I stole from the family photo albums, just in case I ever need to blackmail her. Or in case she ever does bring a boy home, though by then I will probably be at least thirty and married to Kat and not living here.

Amelia sniffs and turns up her nose. “I’m allowed to go wherever I want—this is my house, too.”

“You want to try that logic again? Because I know for a fact that you caught Alex going through your collection of celebrity body glitters and threw a fit.”

“Those were expensive! And he was going to use them for some stupid art project. That’s
not
what they’re for. And anyway,” she adds, glaring at me, “what I meant was, I live here, unlike some people who Mom says
aren’t
allowed in the house—especially not in your room—who you had over anyway.”

“You mean Kat?”

She smirks. The ghostly bluish light from the laptop goes dim, making her look really creepy, and she swipes her finger across the touchpad to make it bright again. “You’re sleeping with her, right?”

“Wow.” I guess sneaking into my room wasn’t nosy enough for her. “Did Helen put you up to this?” Obviously the informational pamphlets weren’t doing their job and she had to send Amelia on a recon mission.

“No. But she is pretty mad at you.” I can hear the annoying smile in her voice as she says it, like she’s enjoying the thought of me being in trouble. Not that any of that is news to me, since Helen hasn’t really spoken to me since Friday. “So, are you?”

“Why? You trying to live vicariously through me because you know no boy will ever touch you?” A rhetorical question, since we both already know the answer is yes.

She glares at me. “Her grandfather tried to kill my mom, you know.”

“Oh, no, I hadn’t already heard that
a million times
. Thank you
so much
for filling me in. Because, wow, if I’d known Kat was at all related to anyone who’d ever tried to hurt a superhero, even if it was before she was born, I would never have touched her.”

Amelia’s whole face lights up in an “aha!” expression, like she just tricked me into revealing all my secrets. “So, you guys
are
doing it.” She thinks about that a little longer and then makes a disgusted face. “
Gross
.”

And she doesn’t even know about our checklist. I shrug.

“Mom hates her, you know.”

“And that’s supposed to matter to me because ...?” It’s not like Kat’s parents are crazy about us being together, either. Not since I got an
X
on my thumb, got rejected from Vilmore, and then went to live with heroes. But they knew me before all that—plus I’m the only one who ever compliments Kat’s mom when she gets a new haircut—so they haven’t done anything crazy, like banish me from the house. Though her dad has mentioned that if I ever try anything “below the belt” with his daughter, no one will ever find my body. But I’m pretty sure he’d say that even if I wasn’t half superhero, and what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Or, in this case, me.

“I won’t tell her. What you told me.” Amelia sounds dead serious about that, even though she usually can’t wait to spread even the teensiest bit of gossip.

“Technically, I haven’t told you anything. But I don’t care what you tell her. Tell her Kat and I are dropping out of school, eloping, and going to start our own circus act. Or a detective agency. Tell her we’re going to be pirates and have lots of pirate children. Who will eventually rebel and not want to be part of the family business, but they won’t have a choice, since we’ll be at sea. Unless they mutiny against us, but—”

“What?”

“Nothing. My point is, I don’t care what she thinks.” Helen’s already made up her mind about me. And about Kat. Nothing I say or do—or don’t do—is going to change that.

Amelia raises her eyebrows. “So ... you don’t want to know what she said about you, then?”

“No, because I can guess. I bet it was something really nice, about how she thinks I have great taste in women.”

She snorts, either ignoring or not catching my sarcasm. “Uh,
wrong
.”

“Oh, wait. Did Helen say I’m her favorite? Even though I’m not really her kid? I bet that was it.”

“You know that’s not what she said.”

“Wait.” I gasp, faking surprise and putting a hand to my mouth. “It ... it wasn’t something bad, was it?”

“Shut up,” Amelia mutters, finally getting that I’m making fun of her.

“Because I don’t think—”

“She said you were a bad influence. On
her
kids. Okay?!”

The words hit me hard.
Her
kids. As in, an exclusive group I’m not part of. And suddenly there’s a tightness in my chest that wasn’t there before. “I’m a supervillain—er, half villain. What did she expect?” I do my best to hide the hurt in my voice, but I know Amelia hears it.

She folds her arms, looking a little smug, but mostly sorry. “I thought you didn’t care?”

“Whatever. It’s not like I didn’t already know.” Except that I didn’t. I thought her problem was with Kat, not with me, her favorite illegitimate stepson. “She actually told you that?”

“No. I overheard her talking to Dad.”

I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my chin against them. “I get why she doesn’t like Kat, being Bart the Blacksmith’s granddaughter and all, but it’s not like you’re going to go out with some supervillain now.” Assuming Amelia could find anyone willing to go out with her at all, that is.

“Well, it wasn’t just that. She said you—” Amelia glances over at me and clamps her mouth shut, possibly realizing she’s done enough damage. “It was a bunch of stuff,” she adds quietly. The laptop goes dim again, but this time she doesn’t fix it.

“Like what?”

“Just ... stuff.”

“I want to know.”

Amelia sighs. “Fine. She said you’re a bad influence because you’re pretty much the same age as me and already sleeping around.” As if Amelia and I aren’t almost a year apart and at completely opposite ends of the maturity spectrum. “And you aren’t even trying to hide it, like you have no shame.”

“Great.” I have monogamous, consensual sex with my steady girlfriend, and my stepmother acts like I’m some kind of man slut? That I should be ashamed?
That’s
fair. And for the record, I am trying to hide it, just not from her. Kat’s dad’s the one who threatened to kill me, and I have to pick my battles.