The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3) (30 page)

G
ORDON KNOCKS ON MY bedroom door later. I don’t want to talk to him, which he should have realized already, since I didn’t even come down for dinner. Apparently he can’t take a hint, so I take a page out of Amelia’s book and yell, “Go away!”

It works just about as well on him as it does on me, because he opens the door and comes in anyway, which is really annoying.

I sit up on my bed and glare at him. “Just write my punishment on a piece of paper and slip it under the door.”

“You’re not in trouble.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. He obviously doesn’t understand this parenting thing at all. “Alex almost got kidnapped on my watch.” By the
League
, who could have done who knows what to him. I mean, he’s not a villain, but they didn’t necessarily know that. And maybe they wouldn’t have hurt him, but screaming at us, pointing weapons at me, and dragging him away from me in the park was damaging enough.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It happened because of me. Because I was with him. He almost got seriously hurt.” If Sarah hadn’t shown up, I don’t know how much longer I could have controlled my lightning.

Gordon sits down on the edge of my bed. “He’s a little shaken up, but he’ll be all right. You kept him safe.” He says that so sincerely, my stomach twists, like it’s tying itself into knots.

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous the situation was.”

“I know it must have been scary at the time, but I checked it out, and they are part of the League.”

“And that makes you feel better because...?”

“They wouldn’t have hurt him. They would have brought him in, called me, and then I would have picked him up.”

“You
hope
they wouldn’t have hurt him. He doesn’t have ‘Property of the Crimson Flash’ tattooed on his forehead or anything.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been part of the League for almost twenty years now. I
know
they would have taken care of my son.”

One of them, anyway. “And what about me?” I rub my hand across the bedspread, the soft blue one they got me for Christmas. I push it in one direction, then back again, feeling the fabric shift.

Gordon doesn’t say anything right away. “What they did to you was out of line and uncalled for. I don’t support this new policy. You have to know that, Damien.” He looks at me, his eyes pleading. “And I’d like to think they wouldn’t have hurt you, either.”

“But you don’t believe that, right?”

“Things are changing. I don’t know what to believe. But I know you and Alex got home safe, and for now, that’s all that matters.”

“He could have gotten hurt. He could have
died
.”

“The League wouldn’t have—”

“Not because of them. Because of me!” I hold up my hands, even though there’s no lightning now. “I could have zapped them.”

“But you didn’t. You made the right choice, and I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t a
choice
.”

“It may have felt that way, but you could have chosen to use your power on them. Even though you knew it was wrong.”

“No, you’re not listening. I didn’t
decide
not to zap them. I was so freaked out, I couldn’t control it. Maybe if they’d stopped pointing weapons at me I could have, but they wouldn’t. They were trying to take my brother, and if Sarah hadn’t shown up when she did, I don’t know what would have happened.” I stare at my palms, imagining how it might have gone. “They had a hold of Alex. If I’d zapped them, he would have been hit, too.” And even if he wasn’t, watching me zap those guys—and then getting in serious trouble—wouldn’t exactly have helped the situation.

“You didn’t lose control. Nobody got hurt, and everything’s okay.”

Except that the world is totally screwed up by this new League policy. “Everyone knows who I am. They know I’m half villain, and that makes me a target. And as long as I’m a target, I’m dangerous to you guys.” To pretty much everyone, really.

He gives me a look, like he thinks I’m just being dramatic. “You haven’t hurt anyone. And you’re not going to.”

“You sound so sure of that, but not that long ago you were going to send me to psycho camp, because you thought I couldn’t control my power.”

“It wasn’t psycho camp, and I was only thinking about it. I was frustrated about what happened, about the decision you made, and... It doesn’t matter now, because I was
wrong
.”

I press my hands between my knees. “If that’s the way you feel about it.”

“It is. I trust you to make the right decisions.”

“The right decisions, or the decisions
you
like?”

There’s frustration in his voice when he says, “The right decisions.” I can tell he wants to make the argument that they’re the same thing, but he holds back.

“I hope you mean that.” Because he’s not going to like what I’m planning to do tonight, even if it is most definitely the right thing.

“I do.” He claps me on the back. “Now, stop torturing yourself over this and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I lie.

He smiles at me as he gets up to leave, and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

I
stuff my phone charger into my backpack, along with as many clothes as will fit. I double-check that my phone and my wallet are in my pockets. There’s nothing else that I
need
, though I look around my room and kind of wish I could bring the framed picture of me and Kat at Homecoming, in our bathings suits. Some bad stuff might have happened that night, but before all that, we were having a really good time and making everyone uncomfortable. I know there are more copies, but this is the one Kat signed for me, like it was a celebrity photo or something, and I hate to leave it behind.

Still. There’s no room for it.

And there’s no room for the watercolor painting of a Velociraptor in a top hat having a tea party that Riley made me, or Damien II, my old teddy bear from when I was a kid, which I only recently liberated from Xavier. And then there’s Dr. Wiggles, Kat’s old dancing flower toy she gave me for my sixteenth birthday. Well, his remains, anyway. We duct taped him back together after Amelia murdered him. He was kind of my only friend when I first moved in here, and now that I’m leaving, it seems weird to abandon him.

I tell myself I can’t take any of it, even if I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or
if
I’ll be back.

I grab a piece of paper from my binder. My hand shakes as I write my note to Gordon, making my words jittery and hard to read.

Dad,

Thanks for letting me stay here and stuff.

Ugh. That’s terrible. I want to get a new piece and start over, but I know if I take too long, I’ll lose my nerve.

Sorry. I don’t know how to say this. I mean, you’re reading this letter, so you can probably figure out that I’m gone. I had to leave. I know you didn’t want me to, but you don’t understand how dangerous I am. And yeah, that sounds dramatic, but it’s also true. I can’t put you guys in that kind of danger, either from me or from the League. So I know you’ll be pissed at me for doing this, but I have to. Because if something happened to you guys, I couldn’t live with myself.

Don’t hate me, okay? This is the right thing to do.

I consider adding that I’ll be back as soon as it’s safe, that I hope this isn’t permanent, but I don’t want to give them false hope. Because what if things never go back to normal? And, besides, part of me worries that Gordon will be too upset after this to ever take me back. So maybe I’m the one I don’t want to have false hope.

I sign the letter, then add:

P.S. Please don’t let Amelia touch my stuff.

Because even if I’m not coming back, some things are sacred. I fold the letter in half and write
Dad
across it, so it doesn’t get mistaken for a random piece of paper.

My shoes are downstairs, along with my toothbrush and my coat. So I guess this is it. I glance around my room one last time, to make sure I’m not forgetting anything important. Nope, nothing. Other than my whole life, that is.

I make my way downstairs. The one thing I won’t miss about this place, besides living in the attic, is these stupid stairs. And even though I avoid the worst steps, they all seem to creak extra loud tonight. It’s past eleven, so Gordon and Helen are at least in bed—hopefully asleep—but the last thing I need is for them to hear me sneaking out and try to stop me. Well, okay, no. The
last
thing I need is for the staircase to collapse under me while I’m making my escape.

But I make it to the bottom with both me and the staircase still intact. I creep across the living room and into the bathroom, so I can grab my toothbrush and deodorant and stuff. I cram them into my bag, which barely wants to zip closed, it’s so full. Then I go get a hooded sweatshirt from the closet.

I’m pulling it over my head and wondering if I should wear another coat on top of it when I hear Amelia snicker and say, “Going to
Riley’s
again tonight?”

Maybe it’s the way I gasp in surprise, or the completely shocked look I give her before it sinks in that she doesn’t know where I’m going, but her eyebrows scrunch up as she reassesses the situation.

Damn it. I thought she was up in her room. I didn’t know she was down here.

I decide I’d better skip the second coat after all. I swing my backpack onto my shoulders, and now all that’s left are my shoes. And leaving my letter for Gordon.

Amelia notices me clutching it. I turn it over so she can’t see the name on it, but I think she already did.

“Where are you going?” she asks, scowling at my overly full backpack and the note in my hand.

“Okay, fine. You got me. I’m going to Kat’s.”

“It’s a weeknight.”

“So? She needs me. I mean,
really
needs me. Sexual urges don’t just happen on the weekend.”

“
Gross
.” Amelia makes a disgusted face. She takes a step away from me, like she might cut her losses and go back upstairs rather than subject herself to any more details about my love life. But then she folds her arms and says, “It’s eleven thirty. There’s no train past eleven.”

I hesitate. A little too long. “I’m getting a ride.”

“What’s that?” She tries to reach for the letter in my hand.

I hold it away from her so she can’t touch it and use her power to steal it from me. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re leaving Dad a note? About you sneaking out?” Even she can tell that that doesn’t add up.

“It’s none of your business.” Great. I can’t even leave the note now, because Amelia will read it as soon I’m not looking.

“You have a lot of stuff in your bag.”

I swallow. “Go back to your room.”

“Why? I could call for Dad, you know. And then—”

“
Don’t
. This is important, Amelia. So just leave it.”

“You’re not really going to Kat’s, are you?” Her voice comes out hushed, almost afraid.

I shake my head.

“Then where?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here.”

Her eyes go wide. “You can’t just leave!”

“
Shh
. You don’t understand.  I could have hurt Alex today. And it doesn’t matter that I didn’t, because I couldn’t control it.” I clench my fists. “It can’t happen again. I can’t let it.”

“You wouldn’t hurt anybody. Not on purpose. You lost control at Homecoming, and you didn’t hurt anybody then.”

“People know who I am. All I did today was go outside, and the League busted me like that was actually a threat to people.”

“So don’t go outside. Mom and Dad won’t make you go to school.”

“It’s not that simple. I shouldn’t have to stay inside just because the League says so.”

“You shouldn’t leave here because of them, either.”

“What if the League decides to harass me at home? It wouldn’t be that hard for them to find out where the Crimson Flash lives—they must have his address on file or something. The whole city knows I’m his son.”

“They wouldn’t do that. They’re only doing this because of that stupid video you were in. If the Truth stops attacking them, then the League will stop attacking villains.”

She makes it sound so simple, like that line of thinking isn’t totally messed up. “Maybe they won’t come here, maybe they’ll stop at not trusting villains to be out in public”—which I really doubt—“but if I wait to find out the hard way, it’ll be too late. You’ve seen what I can do, Amelia. Especially when threatened. I can’t stay here.” I bend down to put my sneakers on.

“When are you coming back?”

I shrug while tying my shoe. I can’t say it out loud.

She makes a surprised, choking sound. “You can’t abandon us. I won’t let you.” Her face is drawn and her voice is shaking.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I’ll take your phone. You won’t leave without your phone.”

“I’m going. I have to.”

“No. You don’t.”

I hand her the letter. “Give this to Gordon. And tell him I’m sorry he’s going to miss another birthday.” Maybe all of them.

Amelia stares at the paper in her hand, horrified and unmoving, like she’s gone numb. Then she snaps out of it. Her mouth twists up and she glares at me and practically spits out the words, “Fine.
Leave
. I’m not even going to miss you. I never wanted you here in the first place!”