The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3) (19 page)

“You didn’t have to give her a reason to.” He reads the note, then hands it to me. “She’s recommending you for suspension.”

“Wow. Good thing you’re not associated with me anymore, right?”

He gives me this disgusted look. “You could get kicked out again, X. If you keep this up.”

If I don’t play along and let everyone treat me like I’m a criminal, he means. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re catching bad guys and winning awards.”

“It was just a nomination.”

“Yeah, but think about it. If I’d done what you did, I wouldn’t be getting anything for it. And if you were still partnered up with me instead of Mason, you wouldn’t have gotten anything for it, either.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then doesn’t. “Okay, maybe that’s true. And it sucks if it is. But we still have almost a year and a half left here. Can’t you just... not push people so much? And it wouldn’t kill you to play by the rules for a while. Just until we graduate.”

“And then what? I don’t need a degree from Heroesworth to patrol the streets with Sarah. Which we both know is about the only hero work I’ll ever be qualified for.” And Sarah doesn’t have an
H
, either, so she won’t be joining the League like everybody else. Even if she really wants to.

Not that Kat would be okay with me choosing that particular career option.

“Actually,” Riley says, absently scratching the side of his face and not looking at me, “Sarah will be in college then. So—”

“So it’s just going to be me.”

Riley shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t say anything.

Which is all the answer I need.

I
GET SENT HOME for the rest of the day. Mrs. Deeds wanted me to get suspended—she recommended several days in her note—but the dean rolled his eyes and said she was overreacting. Though not overreacting enough for him to send me back to class.

I had to call Gordon, and he had to come pick me up, and now I’m sitting in the car with him in the school parking lot. He took off work to come get me, after he already had to drop me off today.

He presses his hands into the steering wheel, even though he’s not driving yet—though he did at least turn the car on so we don’t freeze to death this time—and sighs.

I fold my arms and slump down in my seat. “If you’re going to lecture me about how stupid that was, you might want to call Riley first and compare notes, so you don’t have any overlap.”

“You could have just told her what happened.”

“See, that’s exactly why I told you to talk to Riley. He said the same thing.”

Gordon tilts his head a little and gives me this look, like the fact that he and Riley both told me this should mean something. “Damien. Debriefing is an important part of the process. How is anyone supposed to trust you if you don’t tell the truth?”

I glare at him. “Mrs. Deeds read my report, and Amelia’s. She already knew what happened. She just wanted to try and humiliate me in front of everyone. Amelia made mistakes and got us caught, but Mrs. Deeds didn’t call
her
up to talk about it. She wanted to make the half villain look stupid, even though I’m the one who got us out of it. So, no, I couldn’t just play along and tell the truth, because I couldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

“So you thought it was better to tell her you were working with the bad guys?”

I shrug. “She’d decided she wasn’t going to trust me before she brought me up there. She didn’t respect me, so why should I respect her?”

Gordon thinks about that. “I knew going to Heroesworth would be hard for you.” He looks over at me, concern on his face. “But I thought it would be the other kids who wouldn’t accept you.”

“Yeah, you were totally off base with that. I have so many friends, I can’t even remember all their names. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to be voted most popular for the yearbook.”

“Damien.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “I was trying to say I never expected that kind of behavior from your teachers. They’re supposed to be adults.”

“Adults who work in a school that’s supposed to be all hero. They can be letterist all they want and no one will notice.”

He gives me a long look, like he’s considering how much truth to that there is. I think he’s going to try and tell me that I must have it wrong, that I’ve just misidentified all the ways my supportive superhero teachers have tried to help me. So when he opens his mouth to say something, I cut him off.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I use my powers to stop someone I was told kidnaps and murders kids, and I end up on the news like it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Riley uses his power to catch someone who just happens to look suspicious, and he’s getting a freaking
award
.”

“He’s getting an award?”

I shrug with one shoulder. “He was nominated. Because I wasn’t there. I’m sure he’ll win.” Just as long as none of the judges see him hanging out with me or anything.

Gordon twists up his eyebrows. “Riley turns invisible. He doesn’t hurt anyone. Him using his power is completely different from you using yours.” His gaze falls to my high-voltage shirt, and he gets this worried look, like he thinks I really might not understand.

“They might be different, but that doesn’t make it fair. Riley didn’t have to try and catch that guy. It wasn’t part of his assignment. But he did what he thought was right, just like I did.”

“He didn’t hurt anyone.”

“He could have. He was invisible, and he tackled some guy. What if him being invisible, like, caught the guy off guard so much that he slipped and hit his head? He could have gotten seriously hurt, or maybe died or something. And that’s ignoring the fact that Riley could have gotten hurt, too. But all the bad guy did was steal art. And before you say anything, I know that stealing is a crime. But stealing some paintings isn’t worse than torturing and murdering innocent kids. You get that, right?”

“Damien, that’s not—”

“The point? It
is
. Because if Riley had accidentally hurt that guy while using his power, he would have still been a hero for it. But I use my lightning just enough to stop some murderer—who was
fine
, by the way—and I’m public enemy number one. And yeah, he wasn’t a real murderer, but I had every reason to believe he was, and all I did was take him down. I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t hurting him—not that badly, I mean. But I could have. You don’t think I wanted to? If he really was a killer, then he would have deserved whatever he got from me. But I held back. And I know using my power at all was against the rules. But what I did and what Riley did weren’t all that different.”

We’re both quiet for a while. Eventually, Gordon says, “Have you—”

“The last twenty-four hours have really sucked, okay? So let’s just drop it. You can lecture me about how crazy you think I am tomorrow.” Or maybe the next day. Or next week. Or preferably never.

“I was just going to ask if you’ve had lunch yet.”

Oh. “I’m not hungry.”

“Okay. Get out of the car.”

“What?”

“Come on.” He unbuckles his seat belt and opens his door. “I took off work, you’re out of school, and we have all afternoon to spend together. That doesn’t happen very often. The roads are clear, and if you don’t want lunch, then we can at least practice driving.”

“You want me to drive? I mean, I’m supposed to go home and think about what I’ve done or something. I thought you’d be mad, not want to spend time with me.”

He looks almost hurt by that. “What happened yesterday wasn’t your fault. And what happened today... Maybe you could have handled it better, but it wasn’t right for your teacher to interrogate you like that. I’m glad you stood up for yourself. And of course I want to spend time with you.”

W
e drive for a while and then end up getting lunch anyway, because I lied about not being hungry. We go to the same diner I was at with Riley and Sarah before. Because it’s apparently Gordon’s favorite restaurant. Of course it is. Though they do have a sandwich named after him, and not just because he’s kind of famous, but because he used to order it so often when he’d come here for lunch, back before he even had a TV show. Which I have to admit is kind of cool, even though I’d rather eat dirty socks than ever order a sandwich named after my dad.

“Amelia was so afraid of the vacuum cleaner when she was little.” Gordon laughs good naturedly and takes a bite of himself—a toasted turkey sandwich with some kind of special sauce—while he reminisces. “At first she would just run and hide, but then she decided to stand up for herself and would scream at it whenever we turned it on.”

“That’s so hilarious,” I tell him, setting down my Liberty Burger as I pretend to be as amused by that story as he is. “I bet it’s not as funny as when you were potty training her, though, right?”

His eyes light up. “Actually, there was this one time when we were at the store, and a fan stopped Helen for an autograph, and Amelia took her dirty diaper off right in the middle of the frozen aisle and handed it to them. A complete stranger!” He starts to laugh again, then catches himself and clears his throat. “I’m not sure your sister would appreciate me telling you that.”

“No, no, we’re cool. I just want to know about all that time I missed.” Mainly any embarrassing stories Amelia wouldn’t be able to live down if someone were to spread them around school. You never know when you’re going to need to blackmail someone, and she already used her power to take back all the baby pictures of her that I stole.

“Well, maybe keep that one between us.”

“Of course. I won’t mention it.” Not unless provoked, anyway.

Gordon smiles. “This is fun. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Any time you want me to get kicked out of class, just say the word.”

He takes another bite of his sandwich, thinking about something. “You know, what you said earlier—”

One of the waitresses at the front of the diner suddenly screams. We both turn to look and see her drop her tray, dishes clattering everywhere, and hold her hands up, as if someone’s pointing a gun at her.

Which is exactly what’s happening. A guy in a black ski mask stands at the front of the diner, around the corner from us. He shouts, “Nobody move!” and gestures with the gun to the cashier. “Start emptying it. Now!”

The woman behind the counter turns pale. Her hands shake so bad, she almost doesn’t get the cash register open.

My heart pounds. Lightning crackles up my spine and along my arms, hidden by my coat sleeves. The high-voltage shirt is particularly appropriate right now.

And then, before I can blink, much less zap the guy, Gordon gets to his feet, drawing way too much attention to himself, considering that there’s a robbery going on. And especially considering that the bad guy was ignoring us. “Look at me,” Gordon says, talking to the guy with the gun. “You don’t want to hurt anybody.”

The robber guy really seems like he disagrees. He narrows his eyes and points the gun at Gordon.

“Are you insane?!” I whisper. Really loudly.

Gordon shifts his eyes over toward me, then away again.

“Your kid’s right,” the robber says. “Don’t be a hero.” Gordon’s wearing plain clothes, because he wasn’t filming today, so the robber doesn’t know who he is and hasn’t recognized me yet. If he’s even going to—he might be one of the, like, three people in Golden City who haven’t seen the videos of me.

Gordon takes a step forward, like he didn’t even hear him. “Drop the gun. You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up! I said don’t move!”

Electricity surges in my hands. I ball them into fists, not sure what to do. Because if I don’t do
something
, I’m going to lose control. But zapping the guy with his finger on the trigger isn’t any better of an idea than it was yesterday. Especially when it’s pointed at my dad.

Gordon actually takes another step toward the guy. Like he has a death wish or something. What the hell does he think he’s doing? He has flight, not superspeed. He can’t dodge a bullet.

The robber guy’s hand is trembling. “Stop! If you come any closer, I’ll shoot!” He cocks the gun, meaning business.

This time Gordon doesn’t move. He holds very still.

I can
not
die in a superhero-themed diner. With my dad, who was eating himself.

Now would be a really good time to pull out one of Sarah’s gadgets and cause a distraction. Except she’s been on hiatus for three months and hasn’t made me anything. So I have to improvise.

Gordon shifts his eyes toward me again. Like he’s trying to tell me to do something.

There’s a pass-through into the kitchen. I blast electricity toward the grill. Flames leap up from the greasy hamburger patties and strips of bacon. One of the cooks shouts and jumps back.

The guy with the gun turns to look. And that’s when I zap him. A little harder than I meant to, because all the adrenaline rushing through me makes my lightning harder to control. But I don’t kill him.

The robber drops to the floor, twitching. Gordon rushes over to him and kicks his gun away.

I march up to Gordon, keeping an eye on the bad guy in case I need to zap him again. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You were just going to, what, sacrifice yourself?” I can’t help thinking of Riley’s dad and how he gave himself up to save that bus full of people. And how much Riley wishes he hadn’t.