The Trials of Renegade X (19 page)

It’s one thing for Amelia to have something on me, but I’m
not
going to owe Riley. I’m not going to be under his thumb. If he’d even go for that. I mean, what kind of bargaining power do I have when he just got everything he wants? He’s got enough dirt to completely ruin his worst enemy, which I’m going to go ahead and assume is me, since I don’t know of anyone else who’s broken any of his bones lately. I don’t have anything that can compete with the satisfaction of telling everyone he’s been right all along and I’m a no-good villain who lets other villains just waltz around the school like they own the place and who has a villain power. And who obviously isn’t hero material and that Sarah shouldn’t be sidekicking with.

He’s going to ruin me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. And I’m sure as hell not going to give him the satisfaction of begging him not to. Especially since he has no reason to listen.

So, already regretting this and wondering if maybe I threw out the murder option too soon, I step away from the door so I’m not blocking him in. “Go ahead, Perkins. Just get it over with.” So much for my weekend with Kat, since Gordon will be too busy yelling at me to ever let me out of his sight. I can already see the disappointment on his face when he finds out I’m expelled. And, of course,
why
.

Riley stands up straighter and looks down his nose at me. He sounds like a complete douche when he says, “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t do what?”

“Stoop to
your
level.”

“My level.” Which is obviously so much lower than his, and not just because he’s taller than me. “You don’t want to go running and telling everybody what you just saw?” While he was spying on me. Don’t forget that part.

He gives me this dramatic sigh, like he wouldn’t expect someone of “my level” to understand. “Of course I do, X. But I’m better than that. I’m not
you
.”

Okay, accidentally bashing his nose on Sunday obviously wasn’t enough for him, since all I’m hearing is that he wants me to punch him in the face. “Watch it, Perkins. How do you know I won’t just fry you right now?” I hold up my hands, as if I might actually do it, though I hold back on the electricity. We’re both soaking wet, and even though I’m pretty sure I’m immune to my own lightning power, accidentally electrocuting myself to death in the girls’ bathroom with Riley isn’t exactly how I want to find out. “I’m a villain, right? Isn’t this what we do?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “If I thought you’d really do something like that, then I
would
tell someone. But I’m not going to get you expelled just because I found out a secret about you and I happen to hate your guts. That might be what
you
would do, but it’s not very heroic.”

This is why everyone thinks villains are evil. Because when superheroes start spouting off crap about how much better they are than us, it makes it really hard not to kill them. “And it doesn’t bother you that I can shoot lightning from my hands?”

He shrugs. “I never really believed you could fly. This explains it.”

“Except that I
can
fly.”

“Okay. Prove it.” He gestures for me to get on that.

“What, like, now?”

“Yes, now. I’m not talking about some big demonstration. Just hover over the floor or something. If you can fly, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

I swallow. Flying, even just a little, means not being on solid ground. Which is probably my least favorite place to be. I’ve also never flown on command before, unless trying not to die counts, and I’m not sure it does. “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirks at me. “That’s what I thought.”

“No, it’s not. I
can
fly. I just
don’t
.”

“Well, I’ve seen you use lightning. And now you conveniently ’refuse’ to fly when I call you on it. So I think I can draw my own conclusions. Plus, you don’t really expect me to believe you have two superpowers, do you?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” Well, except for him mistakenly believing he’s better than me.

“And I don’t care what lies you tell. One thing I don’t understand, though, is why you’re even going to this school or how you expect to graduate. You catch supervillains wandering the halls, and you don’t think anything of it? You not only let them go, but you
give them directions
?”

“Kat wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Not unless they messed with her secret collection of scrapbooking materials she thought I didn’t know about and used them to put together a tribute to the world’s scariest clowns and hid it under her pillow. Then I happen to know she’s not afraid to fight dirty.

“Even if I believed that, she’s still a supervillain,” Riley says. “She’s not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to help her do villainous stuff at our school.” He puts his hands behind his back and shakes his head at me. “Are you really trying to get an
H
? Because you certainly don’t act like it.”

“If I wanted a lecture, I would have turned myself in. Stop acting like you’re better than me, because you’re not.”

“Then stop making it so easy. Face it, X, you’re never going to get an
H
. And you’re never going to belong at this school.” He sighs, giving me a really patronizing clap on the shoulder, which is pretty bold of him, considering the whole uncontrollable-electricity thing. “So you might as well do us both a huge favor and quit while you still can.”

Chapter 14

I ANSWER THE DOOR Saturday night wearing a white dress shirt with a black jacket over it, plus nice pants and a tie to match. Kat has on a faded T-shirt with an angry robot on it, jeans with a hole in the knee, and an old sweatshirt around her shoulders.

I gape at her. “Didn’t you get my memo? We have a dress code. This is a
classy
hook up. I mean, really romantic evening. I’m not sure I can even let you in like that.”

“I had to sneak out. And you might not know this, Damien, but it’s kind of difficult to climb out the window in an evening dress.”

“Shapeshifting, Kat. It’s called shapeshifting.” I cluck my tongue at her and shake my head. “I
suppose
I can still let you in.” She did, after all, not freak out or suddenly decide I was evil when I explained my new electricity power to her on the phone last night. “But you’re going to have to take those clothes off, what with not following my dress code and everything.”

She rolls her eyes at me, then steps inside. “You’re sure no one’s home?”

“Would I be seducing you in the doorway if they were?”

“Trying to, you mean. And I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“They’re gone until ten. We’ve got three hours.” Three hours together to make up for two weeks apart. Two
very long
weeks. “And,” I add, sighing at her outfit, “I hope you can get it together for Homecoming.”

“I’ll wear what I want and you’ll like it, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I was thinking we could wear swimsuits. I mean, everyone’s going to be in formal wear. It’s
so
been done.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. The publicity team from my dad’s company is going to be there, and I’m supposed to take pictures with him. And I’m not doing that in a swimsuit.”

Oh, great, so he
is
going to be there. “What? But you’re supposed to be
my
date. Can’t I just buy you from him already for, like, two cows or something?”

“The going rate is ten cows, at least. You’d better start saving up.” She slips her hand into mine and leads me toward the attic stairs.

“You might want to tell your dad that he might not want to show up for Homecoming. Because I’m going to do some things to you that he’s not going to approve of, and I think it’d be better for everyone involved if he just stayed out of it. And we can wear swimsuits to the one at Heroesworth. I know your dad’s not going to be at that one. That is, if you want to go with me next weekend.” They’re not at the same time—I checked. The one at Vilmore is the weekend after. “I mean, it’s probably going to be stupid, since it’s at Heroesworth, but think of all the people we can mess with.” Assuming I’ve found a date for Amelia by then and am still alive.

“An evening with you, messing with superheroes who think they’re better than us?” She grins. “How could I say no?”

“You couldn’t. I don’t even know why I bothered to ask.”

“Are these
them
?” she says, gazing up at the stairs looming over us.

“Yes, but—”

“So, your dad’s really making you live up there? You have to go up these every day? I thought he knew about the heights thing.”

“He suffers from a rare condition called ’selective idiocy.’ Unfortunately, it’s spreading at an alarming rate. And these stairs are really dangerous, so I understand if you want to do it on the couch instead.”

“Again,
not happening.
Plus, I want to see your room.”

“Okay, but only take them one at a time, and don’t touch the railing, because it’s going to fall off. And the boards on the seventh, twelfth, and twenty-second steps are loose, so take those ones extra slowly, so you don’t—”

She takes off, bounding up the stairs like she didn’t hear a word I said, or like she has some sort of death wish. She stops on the seventh step, testing it with her foot and making it wobble on purpose.

“Hey!” I shout. “Weren’t you listening?!” What am I supposed to do if she falls and kills herself in a tragic stair accident?

“It’s not that bad.” She comes back down, her hands pressing on either side of the railing, despite how flimsy it is. “Are you coming or what?”

“Before or after I die of a heart attack?”

“Okay. You stay down here, then. I’ll just be upstairs, taking off all my clothes.” She raises a seductive eyebrow at me before taking off again.

“That won’t work on me!” I call after her. Even though it’s totally working on me. I mean, the stairs are still terrifying as hell, and it’s an effort to put one foot in front of the other, especially toward the top of the stairs, when everything starts wobbling, but I might be making progress a little faster than I normally would. Maybe a lot faster.

When I get to my room, Kat’s still fully clothed—in fact, she zipped up her sweatshirt, which is the opposite of getting undressed, though that may have something to do with it being colder up here—and is smirking at my Superstar poster. “Is this the hole in the wall?” I told her about it last night on the phone, when I was explaining how I went all electric at school. She untacks one of the bottom corners and peers behind the poster, gaping at the damage. “Wow. You’re right, your dad will
so
kill you if he ever finds out about this.”

Just like her dad will
so
kill me if he ever finds out about
this
.

I come up behind her and kiss the back of her neck, trailing the tip of my tongue across her skin. She shivers and sinks against me. I put my arms around her, and she leans back and whispers, “You’re sure they won’t come home this time?”

“Kat,” I whisper back, already leading her toward the bed, “it’s been two weeks. I
made sure
.”

We’re making out on my bed not even five minutes before my phone rings. I grab it off the nightstand, expecting it to be Gordon checking up on me or something, since he thinks I’m sick. Which is
almost
thoughtful of him, except for the fact that I told him I’d be in bed the whole time they were gone—not exactly a lie—and he’s disturbing my supposedly much-needed sleep. I’m preparing to answer the phone in my most pitiful “everything hurts and I don’t know why but am bravely soldiering on” voice when I see Riley’s name on the screen.

I only have his number because I asked Sarah for it when all three of us went to the zoo early this summer—back before the finger-breaking incident, when I was still allowed to hang out with them—claiming I wanted it in case any of us got separated. I was, of course, going to use it to torment him later, but then I forgot. She must have given him my number, too, though I have no idea why he’d be calling me right now.

“Don’t answer it,” Kat says, lying half on top of me, resting her head on my chest while she undoes the buttons of my shirt.

“I just have to tell someone off. It won’t take long.” Either Riley’s calling to apologize for being such a douche to me yesterday—unlikely, considering he’s been a jerk the whole three months I’ve known him and has never once been sorry about it—or he’s thought up more reasons why he thinks he’s better than me. Either one sounds like a good excuse for me to put him in his place. Especially since he has the nerve to actually call me.

“You’ve reached the hotline for Sex Addicts Anonymous, how may I help you?”

“
Thank God
.” He sounds panicked and out of breath. “I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

“It’s what we do. Tell me the nature of your sexual addiction.”

“What? Look, I didn’t have anyone else to call, and—” There’s a weird sound in the background, like lasers firing. A sound that brings back memories of my childhood. “And I really need you, so—”