Black and White (33 page)

T
he tele blared a reality program about the Squadron. Darkmancer was fed up with Kinetic Lad’s recklessness and they were yelling at each other in the kitchen of the Squad House—the mansion financed by Corp and completely wired with cameras.

“How hard up do you have to be to do one of these programs?” Iridium asked. Frostbite and Red Lotus, sprawled on the sofa, paid her no attention.

“I don’t care if he is a Mental power, I’d kick Dark-mancer’s ass,” said Frostbite. “He’s a total prick. How does Kinetic Lad put up with that?”

Chen vaulted to his feet and struck a fighting stance, moving his mouth slightly out of sync to mimic a bad dub job on a kung-fu movie. One of the many things he and
Derek shared, Iridium had noticed, was a love of flatfilm. “Only when you defeat me will you become the master.”

The door from the classrooms swished open, and Jet crossed silently into her room, studiously ignoring Iridium and the boys. Iridium stuck her tongue out at Jet’s back.

Frostbite jumped up and struck an equally ludicrous pose. “But my crane kung fu is strong! You will never defeat me!”

They began to wrestle, and Iridium clicked up the volume on the set to drown them out. Frostbite finally won over the smaller Red Lotus and pinned him to the ground, letting out a cowboy yell.

Hornblower stomped into the common room from the gym, sweat beading on his muscles, unshapely on his still-stubby teenage body.

“Fairies,” he sneered. “Misplace your wings?”

Iridium pushed a footrest into his path without taking her eyes off the projector, and Hornblower almost fell on his face.

“Watch it, you bitch,” he snarled, “or I’ll make sure you can never put that face on an endorsement poster.”

“I am shaking in my fashionable shoes,” said Iridium. “Why don’t you go drown in a vat of protein shakes,
Tyler?”

He pointed a stubby finger at her. “You don’t get to use my name, bitch.”

“Stop calling me ‘bitch’ or I’m going to get irritated.”

“You’re going to get a smack across the face.”

“Oh,
knock
it
off.”
Frostbite sighed, standing and helping Red Lotus to his feet. “Everybody in here knows that the only reason you pick on girls is because your teeny, tiny, shriveled ’nads aren’t big enough to stand against someone your own size.”

Hornblower rounded on Frostbite. “You wanna start something, faggot?”

Chen winced, but Derek stuck out his chin. He’d grown every which way in the last year, and Iridium realized with a start that he was taller than Hornblower.

“I don’t start fights, Tyler,” he said. “But I’ll sure as hell
end this one. So why don’t you go look at porn or pump iron or something, and leave us higher life-forms to our afternoon?”

Hornblower made a move toward Frostbite, but Derek stood firm, his hand in Red Lotus’s.

Iridium jumped up to join Frostbite and Red Lotus in their standoff. “Fuck off,” she told Hornblower. “Unless you want me to get Night and your uncle in here.”

Hornblower’s eyes flickered between the three of them, and Iridium knew he was weighing them up: Derek with his eyes nearly as bright as his hair, cheeks flushed, spoiling for an excuse to hurt Hornblower; Chen like a golden, trapped animal tethered by their intertwined fingers; and Iridium herself, her arms spread and palms up, the beginnings of strobes in each hand.

“Like any proctors would side with you people,” he sneered. “Rabids and queers.”

“Report this,” Frostbite said quietly, “and I will do things to you that will render you useless to everyone except the Janitorial division.”

Hornblower’s lip quivered, and he looked like a very small boy wearing a muscle suit. Then he turned and practically ran out of the room.

Red Lotus jerked his hand from Frostbite’s and stormed off into the boys’ dormitory.

Frostbite raked his hands through his hair. “Shit.
Shit.
Chen, wait!”

“Whoa, there!” Iridium grabbed Frostbite’s arm.

He spun around, and she saw ice-crystal tears imprisoned in the corners of his eyes. “Just leave me alone, Callie.”

“I don’t care,” Iridium said. “You need to know that.”

Derek blinked. “You don’t?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Why should I?”

Frostbite slumped back on the sofa. “In case you missed it, Corp’s not keen on the love that dares not speak its name. Especially when it’s between heroes. You know how
many ‘retirements’ over the past ten years have been Corp quietly getting rid of us?”

“Screw them,” she spat. “You’re my
friend.
Hell, I was best buddies with the girl voted Most Likely to Hack Somebody Up and Mail the Parts to Their Family.” She smiled thinly. “I think I can handle you making out with guys instead of chicks, Derek.”

“If anybody finds out …”

“No one’s going to, not from me,” said Iridium. “Now go talk to Chen. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Frostbite sniffled again. “He was the only one … in my entire life. What if I’ve blown it, Iri?”

“Not possible.” She reached over and ruffled Frostbite’s spiky hair. “You know, Derek the Dork, you turned out pretty irresistible. Chen would have to be some kind of idiot not to see that.”

He smiled and brushed the frost away from his face. “Thanks, Iridium.”

“Go,” she said, putting her feet up again and changing the channel on the holo. “And tell Chen the two of you make a cute couple.”

“You’ll be the only one we
can
tell,” Derek muttered. “The sneaking around puts a cramp in the romance, let me tell you.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to find a date for the graduation formal,” said Iridium. “I can see it now … matching tuxes, corsages, a floatlimo … are you going to get a hotel room? Chen will slap you around if you get fresh.”

Frostbite’s smile was less rigid this time. “You’re crazy. Corp would have a heart attack. Night would probably fall right out of his creepy cowl.”

“Worth it for that alone,” said Iridium, grinning.

Frostbite started to go into the men’s bunkroom, and then turned to face her. “You’re a good friend, Iri.”

“Thanks,” said Iridium. “I guarantee, you’re the only one who thinks so.”

J
et knelt in the Academy confessional, trying not to play with her sling as she waited for the priest to slide open the screen and signal that she should begin confessing her sins.

Top of the list: pride.

Her left shoulder throbbed, and she grimaced. Lancer hadn’t been kidding when he’d said Jet would be cursing him. She’d done that, quite loudly, when he’d gotten the best of her and had dislocated her shoulder just a few hours ago.

She shuddered, remembering the impact as she’d hit the ground hard—and the acute pain that had accompanied it. Lancer had stared down at her, his gaze implacable, as she’d writhed on the floor.

“You’re dead,” he’d said coldly. “Next time, don’t bother with the pretty follow-through. Bad guys don’t give a shit if your form is correct. Guard your left. Now get your whining Shadow ass down to Infirmary.”

The staff nurse had given her a local, even though Jet had adamantly said no. At fifteen, Jet was still a minor, and so the Academy had the final say on her medical treatment—and that meant all patients were anesthetized when treating severe injuries. Jet had wanted to feel it when her shoulder had been popped back into its socket. Maybe that agony would help remind her of Lancer’s lesson today.

Instead, she’d gotten a sympathetic smile, a brightly colored sling, and a mandatory pass from physical activity for seventy-two hours, then moderated physical activity over the next four weeks. Lancer had scoffed and called her a pansy … but he agreed to keep working with her once Medical approved.

Small favors. Dejected, Jet sighed. She was a lousy excuse of a hero.

You’re a filthy Shadow
, Lancer told her.

Jet closed her eyes, told herself to let it go. That it didn’t hurt.

Jehovah
, she prayed,
why am I a Shadow?

But instead of some invisible god, it was Night who whispered:
You understand the power of the Dark.

Yes. But she hated it. Despised it.

Feared it.

You’ll learn to use that fear
, Night crooned.
Let it do your work for you.

Her heart danced; sweat beaded on her brow. Her throat constricted as she grappled with an idea that kept trying to slip out of reach.

How could the Dark work for her? It utterly terrified her.

Sam’s voice, now, filling her with warmth, with love:
We’ve got these powers for a reason.

Sam.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she waited for a priest to come and absolve her of all her sins. To tell her that it was okay that Sam was dead.

“Those dead, who believed in him, shall be raised and live, and those living who believe, shall never perish. Death will only be a change to a better existence.”

Maybe it’s better
, she thought bitterly,
but I still want him back.

… those living who believe …

Her lip curled into a snarl.
Tell me, how will chanting Our Fathers and performing penance make Sam come back?

How could Jehovah be so cruel?

Night again, his voice cold and yet soothing:
If you want Samson’s death to have any meaning at all, you’ll let his dedication to helping others be your beacon. Your guiding light in the dark.

My guiding light.

Light.

Her heart leapt, and her mouth opened wide—in surprise, in delight. Her shoulder still ached, but it was a minor pain, easily overlooked in the face of an epiphany.

Light she could understand. Light was her personal savior, the thing that banished the darkness.

Forget Jehovah and his heart of stone. Forget Christo the Son. Forget Heaven and Hell, and all those things that demanded people believe in unconditionally, even with no proof that they existed at all.

Light was real.

Darkness was real.

It was all the religion that she needed.

Letting out a laugh, Jet climbed to her feet just as the screen slid open.

“I’m sorry for the wait, my child,” the hidden priest said.

“It’s okay,” Jet replied, feeling lighter than air. “I’ve already found what I was looking for.”

And in a weird way, she had Lancer to thank for it.

N
ormally, Iridium would be glad for the interruption, but her stomach sank when the Containment team shuffled into their Applied Extrahuman History class.

One by one, the students stopped moving their styluses across their datascreens, staring at the silent faces under the riot shields.

Beside Iridium, Frostbite’s breath hitched.

He and Chen had made up in the week since Hornblower’s scene in the common room. Nobody had started looking at them strangely, or sending hate messages, and no proctors had so much as turned a hair. Derek and Chen were partners. It was natural for them to be together.

“Is something the matter?” said Charisma, their instructor.

The Containment worker at the head of the column pushed past her and they filed through the classroom, massing around Red Lotus.

“Derek Gregory,” said the Containment worker in a flat tone. “He in this class?”

Frostbite laid his stylus aside, his fingers shaking so that it slipped off the podium and rolled away. “Yeah. I’m Derek Gregory.”

The Containment worker tightened his grip on his stun blaster. “You need to come with us, son.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Iridium spoke up, holding her arm out between Frostbite and the team.

The Containment worker frowned at her. “Stay out of this, girl. There are some very serious allegations leveled at Mr. Gregory. We need to get to the bottom of them.”

Iridium stuck her chin out. “What allegations?”

“That’s between Mr. Gregory and the Superintendent, miss.” He lowered his voice. “Get out of the way before I stun you.”

“Get out of mine before I blind you,” Iridium hissed. “You’re not taking him.”

The Containment worker jerked his head at one of his companions, who reached out and yanked Iridium’s right arm behind her in a submission hold. She struggled, but unless she wanted to break her arm, she wasn’t going anywhere.

“See here!” Charisma snapped, leaning on her cane and starting forward. “You can’t just come into my classroom and manhandle my charges.”

“Stay out of this,” snarled the Containment worker. “You have no idea what this boy has been accused of.”

Iridium glared at Hornblower, who was watching the scene unfold with a slack-jawed equanimity.

Frostbite must have had the same thought, because he rounded on Hornblower. “You are so fucking dead, Tyler. I’m going to freeze your tiny little prick off and feed it to you!”

“Me?” Hornblower squeaked. “I didn’t report you! You think I’m stupid?”

The Containment team traded looks. “I guess we weren’t wrong,” the leader said.

“No,” Frostbite said, his voice rising. “No, you weren’t wrong. I’m gay. I like men. When I’m in the shower, I think about Keanu Reeves. I kiss men and someday I’ll fuck men and you all can just quit whispering about me, because you’re all absolutely right—I’m a big old queer!” He glared around the room, daring the other students to say something. “There. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Iridium squirmed, tried to break free. “Derek …”

Frostbite ignored her and turned to Chen. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t how you wanted it. Please believe me.”