Sidekick Returns (36 page)

‘Well,' my father said, ‘I wouldn't have believed it. You and your sister are truly fascinating creatures. You never fail to surprise me. Of course, you didn't get to choose. I'm afraid our deal is forfeit.'

‘Let Ryder go,' I said flatly. ‘Let my friends go. Then let us leave with Jenny. You will never see us again.'

My father smiled.

‘Let her go!' The words tore through my throat, echoing around the cavernous room. I was done. I was so done with this man. I gently laid Jenny's head down and got to my feet. ‘Just let her go.'

‘Come now, Brianna. I think you know the lesson is not quite over.'

I looked at my father and suddenly everything went very still.

All the noise, distraction, and pain I had been feeling was gone. Like someone, a divine power, had snapped its godly fingers, and it was just gone. Time slowed around me and the world faded away. It was just the two of us now … in a vacuum of space. My heart slowed, near to a stop.

I suddenly understood. Everything had been leading to this moment. I had thought my destiny was to spend my life fighting my father. Thwarting him at every turn. But I was wrong. We were too much alike for that to ever happen. We weren't made to spar. We were all in … every fight. We went into every battle as though it were the last.

The burden I didn't know I had been carrying lifted from my shoulders as the imaginings of all those future years of conflict, of struggle, of losing to my father over and over evaporated into nothingness.

I was centred … free, and everything was so very, very clear.

Suddenly I found I was speaking. ‘You know, Dad,' my voice said quietly. ‘There's something I've been wanting to tell you. Something that's been bothering me.'

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Remember that night at the lab?' I didn't wait for his answer. ‘I lied to you.'

‘Brianna …'

I looked at him. He suddenly appeared both familiar and strange. Man and monster. He had done so many terrible things. So many. He had toyed with my sister's life and he had taken my mother's. I also knew with complete certainty that he would kill Ryder, now, in front of me … if I let him.

I heard the voice that came from me say, ‘Remember when you said you would have liked to have told me about your childhood?'

‘I remember,' he said. ‘But now is—'

‘I said something … about being glad that you never had the chance.' I inhaled deeply. My chest, for once, wasn't tight. It felt good … loose. ‘That was a lie. Under different circumstances,' I said, nodding, surprised to find tears spilling down my cheeks.
Why tears? I felt so good.
‘I think, I would have liked to have heard about it. Maybe …' I looked down at the floor, letting the thought trail off.

I had failed so much lately. Over and over, I had failed. But Bart had told me what I needed to do if I wanted to be a hero … and in this moment, I didn't need to be trained or skilled or smart or strong.

I just needed to do the hard thing.

My head snapped up. My eyes met my father's …

… And I charged him.

Chapter 58

It seems like everybody has a different story for what happened that day.

Lots of the rumours had Ryder pushing my father into the tank. Some my sister. Nobody really thought it could have been me. Not Bremy. The official story was that my father fell in the shark tank after a brief psychotic episode and died in the subsequent feeding frenzy. But I wasn't sure if anyone believed that either.

As far as what I remember goes, I can still feel the water striking my face as we went into the tank. I remember my father had his arms around me too. They held me so tight. I pushed him away—hitting, kicking, struggling for air. Then after that … there was the shark. I knew I remembered something … something with the shark … something at the end, but I had put that thing away in a dark place where I never had to look at it—a place that was always close by.

After that, though, it was all kind of a blur. I somehow knew that Ryder had pulled me out. And I knew that Choden—no, not just Choden—everyone was there right after … after my father had … just after. And I somehow knew that at some point Pierce had held me and stroked my hair. I also knew that Bart and Queenie had taken me home before the police could sort out what had happened. But it was the funniest thing. I couldn't call up any of the actual memories. They were all just cold facts stored away in a file. Nothing I could feel.

That was two months ago.

The paparazzi swarmed the apartment for a day or two, but Mr Pushkin gave a press conference announcing that the little blonde girl had moved out, stiffing him on rent. From what he told me on the voicemail he left, he put on quite a show of indignation, even wore his bowler hat for the occasion. In the weeks after, everyone had tried to help. Bart bought me a pizza every week, and had the delivery guy leave it outside my door. Queenie would kick the wall every now and then and shout, ‘You alive?' And she wouldn't stop until I kicked back. Even Kevin left a very funeral-looking floral arrangement for me one day. And I knew I should be touched by all of their attention, but nothing much could reach me these days.

Pierce tried hard. He tried so very, very hard to get me to talk to him, but I just couldn't face him. And for the longest time, I couldn't quite figure out why. I knew he cared. I knew he was hurting so badly with the need for me to be okay. Eventually I figured out that I was just too afraid to see him. Good, noble Pierce. I was afraid that I would look in his eyes and see the barest flash of all the things I already thought about myself.

As for my sister, she was in a coma for a week. I sat by her bed every day holding her hand. When she woke up—woke up to her old life—she decided that we needed some space. She didn't blame me. At least, that's what she said. She just needed time … then we could work on getting back what we had. My sister and I lied to each other a lot these days.

I was still having the occasional panic attack. Mostly in the middle of the night. I figured out that's what those out-of-body experiences were. Hopefully, they'd go away soon. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was grieving over my father—although sometimes I suspected there was something that hurt inside of me, but I couldn't quite reach that either.

I still got up every day. I was working a lot. But as for the rest of the time, I sat a lot on benches, stoops and street corners, just watching people, wondering how it was that they just seemed so completely sure of themselves in their actions—in who they were. Buying bananas. Holding hands. Pushing strollers. They were so anchored to their every action—rooted to their very existence. It was fascinating … because I could never shake the feeling these days that I was floating out into space.

Yup, they were all so certain …

… Well, everyone except that little old lady—who I was now watching—trying to cross the street. She didn't seem to know what the hell she was doing.

Surprisingly, I found that it was bothering me just a little. I kind of liked the abandoned stoop I was sitting on, and if she couldn't figure out how to press the button to change the light any minute now, she was going to step out into the busy street and get flattened. And this was a problem for me because I really wanted to sit and feel sorry for myself uninterrupted—and if she got crushed, then there would be all the ambulances and police wanting statements.

I sighed heavily and hauled myself to my feet to jog over to her. ‘Let me get that button for you,' I said. ‘It's kind of stiff.' She raised her watery blue eyes to mine and said, ‘Thank you, dear.'

‘Mrs Reese!'

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh! Hello.'

We stared at each other for a moment. My eyes trailed over her nervous face, down to the hand clutching the thin plastic bag filled with cans of meat.

‘I am so ashamed,' she stammered.

I didn't answer.

‘The cord was right there under the wall. I knew it was yours, but I had this old TV, and sometimes … sometimes I get very lonely.'

She searched my eyes, waiting for me to answer, but I had nothing to say. That too had been happening a lot lately.

‘I'll call and tell them to turn it off right away,' she added quickly. ‘I don't have a lot of money, but I c—'

‘Keep it.'

‘I'm sorry dear,' she said. ‘I couldn't quite hear you.'

‘Keep it.' I blew some air through my lips. ‘It's fine. I'm making a little more money now. I've got two jobs, and … but I'm coming over when you watch those
Love Boat
reruns. I want to see what this Charo person looks like.' Where the heck had that come from?

She nodded quickly.

We waited for the light to change. When it did, she took a few shuffling steps into street before turning back to look at me. ‘You're an angel, dear, an honest to goodness angel.'

I chuckled. The movement of it made my chest hurt. ‘I think you've got the wrong girl.'

‘No,' she said with a smile. ‘I'm sure.'

I watched her safely make her way to the other side of the street. When she arrived, she stopped to throw me a little wave. I raised my hand in return and stepped backwards—right into somebody's chest.

I stumbled forward then swirled around.

‘Hello.'

Emotion I couldn't quite name swept over me.

‘Choden.' When I said everyone had reached out to me
after
, I meant everyone but Choden, and by extension, Ryder.

He regarded me a moment before saying, ‘You look healthy. Strong.'

I scratched my temple. ‘I've been training … doing some wrestling.'

He tilted his head in question then folded his hands by his waist, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘It's a long story.'

Choden smiled as though he had all the time in the world.

‘I … I'm helping out my landlord,' I muttered, shaking my head and looking away. ‘He's trying to make a career change. And who am I to stand in the way of true love? Plus there's the cable bill.'

Choden nodded sagely even though I was pretty sure he didn't understand what I was going on about.

A moment passed. ‘Why are you here?'

‘I am here to see you.'

I nodded.

‘And to ask for your help.'

I chuckled again. It still made my chest hurt. Must be out of practice.

‘
She
needs your help, Bremy.'

I closed my eyes and ran my hands over my face. ‘You can't be serious.'

Choden didn't reply.

‘My help? Ryder needs my help?' I laughed again. ‘You know, it turns out, I'm not so useful in the helping department.'

Choden's gaze briefly tracked to Mrs Reese still making her way down the street.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Helping old ladies cross the street notwithstanding.'

‘Ryder needs you now more than ever.'

Tears pricked my eyes. ‘What could I possibly have to offer her, Choden?'

‘What was done to her … she is not the same.'

I studied his eyes. There was a lot of sadness there. Guilt flooded over me. ‘I am really sorry to hear that. Truly. But I still don't see what
I
can do to help.'

‘You have much to offer her.'

I threw my hands into the air. ‘Like what?'

‘Your youth. Your enthusiasm. Your hope.'

‘Ha! Oh, that's very good.' I planted my hands on my hips. ‘I don't feel much of those things lately.'

Choden again stayed silent a moment, then added, ‘Your forgiveness. She needs that too.'

‘My forgiveness?'

‘Your choice to save her. It did not come without a cost.'

‘That's not on her,' I said more harshly than I intended. ‘She should know that.'

‘Well, she can be … stubborn at times. I believe you understand how that can be.'

I smiled, but it only lasted a moment. ‘I just can't do it anymore, Choden.'

‘Do what anymore?'

‘Pretend to be something I'm not!' I shook my head again. ‘I can't play at being the superhero. Not anymore.'

‘Excellent.'

I look at him sideways. ‘I'm sorry?'

A smile spread wide across his face. ‘I said
excellent
.'

‘Yeah.' I shook my head. ‘I'm not following.'

‘The time for play is over.' He squinted his eyes as though giving his words thought. ‘To put it in your language. I think perhaps it's time we did this thing for real.'

A cool breeze gusted, sending shivers down my back.

‘Choden, I don't know …'

‘You are ready, Bremy St. James, and,' he said, moving his eyes skywards, ‘she can't do it alone.' I followed his gaze. A lonely figure stood atop a building, dark against the setting sun. ‘I want to ask you something. Something I have asked you before.'

My brow furrowed.

‘I believe there are mysteries to this life. Mysteries we cannot possibly hope to understand.' He held me in his gaze. ‘But I also believe that sometimes … sometimes there is a clear calling from the higher powers to the people who can carry more of the burden—an entreaty to share their light when times are at their darkest.'

‘Choden I—'

‘I believe the universe is calling upon you, Bremy St. James, to be one of those lights in the darkness.' He gripped my hands. ‘You.' He paused a moment before adding, ‘Will you answer that call?'

I smiled at the familiar words. Choden had asked me that question before. Crazy old guru.

I looked up again and studied Ryder's beautiful silhouette contrasted against the dying sun. It was crazy. Ridiculous. I couldn't be like her. I was nothing like her. Given that's what I was thinking, I was kind of surprised by what came out of my mouth next. ‘Well, Choden, I guess I have to.' I looked back to his questioning face.