The Vigilante's Handbook (Misfits #1)

Three: Persuasion Only Works If People Like You

I woke in the Nurse's Office recovery room. The narrow room was what visitors would see if they asked to tour Paramount Lake without having proper knowledge of just how "troubled" us students were.

There were two cots shoved against opposing walls with just enough space between them to make a walkway. The walls were covered in posters of cute animals and cheery yellow wallpaper so old it must have been here long before Paramount Lake became Paramount Lake. The animals on the posters had eyes just large enough to be more unsettling than cute. Speech bubbles sprouted from their heads saying stupid things like, "Laughter is the best medicine." I would argue that some superpowered healing from Mona was the best medicine, with modern science coming in at a close second, but what did I know.

This was the side of Paramount Lake that unauthorized visitors saw: A run-down boarding school with no prestigious alumni, halls mostly full of charity cases, and students with more close brushes with the law than a mobster who was terrible at his job.

Campus was full of these brightly colored facades that hid the vigilante equipment. Normal classrooms could be turned into sparring rings in minutes, the school board meeting room was more secure than Air Force One, and the evil laboratory was hidden behind posters of stupid animals.

Miguel was also waiting in the recovery room on the paper-covered cot across from mine. His Nothing Syringe usually wore off before mine. Apparently I was "especially susceptible to its adverse effects," according to Dr. Freddie.

Although he was awake, Miguel's eyes were squinted shut with so much force that it looked like he was in pain. His usual vague frown-smile had been replaced with a grimace. I called this state of his being caught in a thought ambush. They happened often enough that I had time to come up with a suitable name.

He would be sitting there, silently contributing to the conversation as usual. The next second, he was even further removed. Usually, even if he wasn't actually paying attention to what I said, he was good at pretending. The thought ambushes tripped up his acting for a few minutes. Eventually he would come back around, shake his head like his brain was a snowglobe, and tune back in with his ever-attentive nods, shrugs, and body language.

"How long have you been waiting for me?" I asked as soothingly as possible. Soothing wasn't my default, but I learned it was best not to startle Miguel when he got like this. That just ended with him acting more sullen than usual, and I didn't want to deal with that. Also a good friend like me didn't want him to be sad because I care about his well being blah blah blah.

The grimace on his lips pulled into a strained frown-smile and his eyes blinked open, once, twice. His pupils dilated and retracted until he could properly focus on me. In response to my question, he pointed at the clock about the door. It read a quarter to six. If I had stepped into the Nurse's Office half an hour after class got out at three that I meant I had spent the better part of two hours under the effects of the Nothing Syringe. It was a little longer than my average time spent under its mind-numbing spell. Nothing to be concerned about. Definitely nothing in need of reporting to the lab staff.

Especially not now that I had finished my last physical ever.

Miguel saw my grin growing when I said, "Thanks for waiting for me."

He knew that wasn't the thing causing my excitement. I could see it written out plain as day in the way his eyes darted around my face, searching for a more sufficient answer.

"And congratulations on enduring our last physical before we graduate." His whole body stopped moving for a second as the realization struck him, then there was a smile to himself and a nod. He reached out a hand that I slapped with a high five. "We are free soon-to-be vigilantes, my man."