"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, frowning, pretending that my heart doesn't skip a few beats at those words. She doesn't answer, just walks over to the kitchen counter and grabs her iPhone. "Are you texting her?" I ask, trying not to sound anxious but probably failing. Please do not tell me she's calling the cops. I can't deal with that right now. Her thumbs fly across the screen for a good thirty seconds before she sets the phone down again. Her phone case is red and bandana-patterned. Joy.
"There. Done. Happy? Now my sister will be even more miserable, but at least she won't get kidnapped by her super-powered and also evil ex who has allegedly risen from the grave to complete his family, am I right?" Marie says, her voice layered with sarcasm. Ok. So she doesn't believe me. But I really don't care. At least Taylor's safe. (Oh, God- that sounds straight out of an old, cheesy movie. I want to throw up in my mouth a little bit. What have I become?)
"I won't be happy until Dominic's safe," I reply, determined to get her to believe he's alive. It's not like it matters whether she believes me or not, but it might be nice to have another person on my side, super-powered or otherwise. Plus, from what it sounds like, Marie is all who Taylor has to rely on anymore. If I'm going the Help-Taylor-Even-If-You-Kind-Of-Hate-Her route, I might as well get her sister to support her as well. It's what the Guardian Angel would do. (If you ask me, this Angel is beginning to sound more and more like a starry-eyed do-gooder. But I'll play along.)
"Whatever," Marie mutters grudgingly. When I continue to sit there and stare at her expectantly, she raises an eyebrow. "If you're waiting for her to text back, it's not going to happen. My sister isn't exactly glued to her phone like most people. I think you can go now," she adds, looking irritated.
"Thank you so much," I say, getting up. I know that she's not merely requesting my departure. I definitely do not want to overstay my more-than-fragile welcome.
"Like I said, I'm doing it for Taylor," she replies with a grunt. She watches me carefully and I can still feel her gaze on my back even after I walk outside and the front door swings shut behind me. But when I turn around, all I can see is that little white dog at the window, watching me leave. When I'm sure nobody but the canine is watching me, the Angel illusion fades to just reveal plain old me. I keep my head low just in case until I can see Dave's blue Chevy pulled up at the curb a few blocks away.
"Well? How did it go?" Dave asks as I clamber into the passenger seat. He starts the car and begins to drive slowly when I don't answer him right away, but still stares at me expectantly. It takes a moment for me to realize what exactly happened at Marie's. What she said.
"I must've said something wrong. Or maybe I did something to give myself away. I think she knows who I am. Who I was," I murmur, resting the side of my head against the cool glass window and staring at the city passing us by.
"What?" Dave asks in alarm, even though he heard me perfectly. "Jesus, Maya. What did she do? What did she say?"
"That's the thing. She didn't say anything directly. My hood fell back at one point, which wasn't a big deal because I had another illusion in place, but maybe she saw something. She said something about how she would help me, but she didn't trust me because she suspected I was somebody else," I breathe out. "She said that if she found out that I'm who she thought I was, she would 'find a creative way to murder me.'" I feel Dave's hand on my arm.
"Take a deep breath, Maya," he advises me. I try to, but when I do I feel like the weight of world is crushing the air from my lungs.
"I can't, Dave. What if she knows? Oh God." I bury my face in my hands, feeling an inevitable wave of panic starting to crash over me. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. "I can't do this. If she finds out who I am, every single hero and villain in this city is going to come hunting me down and they're going to dismember me and throw my body over their celebratory bonfire." Tears of hysterical laughter and terror are leaking from the corners of my eyes.
"Maya, just breathe for me, ok? It's going to be ok, I promise. We'll protect you. Just breathe." The car is stopped. I don't know when he stopped it. He has his arm around my shoulders and he's leaning in close, his eyes identical pools of concern.
"No. I can't put you two in any more danger. I can't!" I rasp. My lungs are hopelessly grasping for air, but panic is too lodged in my throat to allow me any room leftover to breathe. "I've been so selfish, thinking I could... thinking I could pretend to be normal. There's a fricking bounty on my head! If anyone finds me, your kindness towards me is going to be rewarded with both of your bodies six feet underground." I stop talking because my words just turn into a jumbled gasp of desperation. Suddenly there's a flash of momentary stinging pain across my face and I recoil, looking up in surprise to see a guilty-looking Dave.
"Did you just slap me?" I ask him disbelievingly, the tightness in my chest loosening as a bubble of incredulous laughter escapes my lips. He rubs the back of neck sheepishly and nods.
"Sort of. I'm really sorry. I didn't know what else would bring you to your senses," he admits. "You were kind of freaking me out." The self-conscious grin fades from his face and is replaced by a somber frown. "If anything happens, Maya, I want you to know that we'll fight for you."
"Says the skinny powerless man wearing the Bugs Bunny t-shirt," I retort. "These people have superpowers, Dave. You're nothing compared to them, no offense. You'll just get yourselves killed."
"I think you're worth the risk," Dave replies. He says this like he thinks it'll make me happy, but instead I just feel immensely worse.
"That's the thing. I'm not. You're just determined to believe that there's something worth saving in everybody. Well... maybe there's not. Not in this case," I say, looking down, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal.
"There's always something worth saving in everybody. Especially you," he shoots back. There is no doubt in his eyes or his face. His gaze remains level with mine and when I scowl in return, he doesn't even flinch. He's determined to win this battle. So I let him. For now.
"You're the worst, Dave. Why don't you go find your true calling and write motivational Hallmark cards?" I say with a smirk on my face. His shoulders relax once he realizes that I'm not going to fight him any further. But I haven't given up. Not really. But this isn't the right time to leave them, even if it's only selfish of me to stay. As much as it kills my pride to say it, I need them, for the time being. But if things get heated, there's nothing they can do to get me to stay and let them sacrifice their safety and anonymity for me.
I won't let them get associated with a known super-villain, even if there is ex that belongs before that title. Reggie doesn't care. And the heroes certainly don't- they saw what looked like me murdering Taylor's son on live television. I can't just be like, "Hey guys! I'm one of you now! Violent murder notwithstanding!" I'm not sure that'll go over real well with either party.
"I know, I know. But as long as you're not spouting suicidal nonsense, I'm ok with being cheesy," he says, his smile sad and muted. "What else can I do to make you believe that you're worth so much more?"
"Currently? Nothing. And I'm sorry. I know you hate seeing me like... that. I get it. But there's just a lot on my plate at the moment, ok?" I sigh and lean back as Dave resumes driving. He stays quiet for a few moments, his eyes on the road.
"Believe me, I know. I just think you're stronger than that," he tells me, sounding almost disappointed. Like he's my older brother or something. "I mean, don't get me wrong- I think you're doing well, all things considered. I could never handle everything that's happened to you. But I think you're just hindering yourself with this I'm-a-horrible-person attitude. There's so many things about you that you could be proud of, but it's like you refuse to see them. You have so much potential, but the only thing you'll ever see yourself as is a bad guy. But that's not who you are anymore. I think you need to move on if you ever want to grow as a person," he says. Again with the psychobabble. I thought we had a mutual agreement.
"Sure. Easy-peasy. But let's start with rescuing the kid that I put in this whole mess in the first place, 'kay?" I force a smile and Dave nods reluctantly, turning his attention back to the road. He only speaks after a long few minutes.
"So she contacted Taylor?" He looks back at me briefly to see me nod. I'm looking out the window, feeling drained of energy even though it's only noon at the most.
"I don't think she believed me completely. But yeah, she did eventually contact Taylor. Although she definitely made it clear that she doesn't trust me, like I said before." I examine my cuticles. This time it's Dave who nods in silence. He probably doesn't want to say anything that might send me off on a self-hating rant. My stomach growls noisily, disturbing the momentary silence.
"Want me to pull through Wendy's for some lunch?" he asks me, a grin playing at the edges of his lips. "We could get a couple of Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers. Those things are to die for. Very unhealthy, of course, but I think your freakish metabolism can handle it," he says teasingly, reaching out an arm to poke at my stomach.
"Don't judge my metabolism. You're not so chubby yourself," I retort, swatting his hand away. "Besides, I wouldn't know. I've never eaten at Wendy's." When he doesn't respond, I look up to see a look of exaggerated hurt on his face, his free hand grasping at his chest like my admittance to not eating at a certain fast food restaurant was a massive betrayal to all of humankind.
"Dagger to the heart," he moans, crumpling against his steering wheel like he's been stabbed. The Chevy swerves violently, and we both yelp in surprise.
"Woah, woah! Don't go crashing us into the guardrail just to prove a point," I manage to stutter out after he regains control of the vehicle.
"But, still," he recovers. "Are super-villains all food snobs or something? Do they only eat at sushi bars and steakhouses?"
"Never in my life have I ever had sushi, Dave," I say with deadpan. "I hate fish, anyway." Finally he laughs.
"Well, good for you. And I've had sushi. It wasn't that great. You're not missing out on much," he points out. "Seriously, though. Where do you eat? Or did your diet only consist of alcohol until we took you in and got you started on a proper diet?" he asks teasingly.
"Shut up, Dave. I ate a lot of sandwiches, for your information. Walmart always had a special on fancy bread loaves. I got creative with different combinations of cold meat and cheeses," I tell him.
"Wow. That's just sad," Dave sighs. "See, you know your life is going downhill when your creativity is wasted on sandwich combinations."
"You're one to talk, graphic t-shirt and flannel/button-down/cardigan. I think your wardrobe is like a cartoon character's now. You wear the same thing, just in varying colors and designs," I retort. "If you want me to try a Jr. Whatever, you're going to go to mall with me and I'm going to have you try on a nice sports blazer," I threaten.
"Challenge accepted," Dave accepts triumphantly. I roll my eyes but I'm smiling all the same.
YOU ARE READING
Super?
Adventure"Stop pretending to be an idiot, idiot." Ouch. It burns. "You're starting to sound like a dear old friend of mine," she adds, her tone implying that her "friend" isn't so much of a "friend" as a mortal enemy who she probably also dragged into an all...
