The Undoing of Sidekicks | ✓

twenty

twenty 

TURNS OUT puzzles were hard when their creator didn't want them to be solved. And it's not as if we didn't try — I had Zazu on my team, and she was damn near the smartest person I knew of.

"I can't get the hang of the trucks," she exclaimed, spinning in her office chair, " — it just ... it doesn't make any sense."

"If I were the one transporting illegal goods, I'm sure I wouldn't want it to make sense, but that might just be my opinion." 

Zazu gave me a glare, then spun around to face her desk. 

"It seems completely random. The dates, the times — they have to have a system. They have to." 

I let a hand rest on Zuri's shoulder, squeezed once for comfort. There was a small, confident smile on my face, one intended to ease her frazzled mind. 

"If anyone solves it, it'll be you. I'm sure." I leaned away, crossing my arms above my chest, "I believe in you, Zazu." 

"That makes one of us," she mumbled quietly, rolling her chair closer to her keyboard. Within seconds, the rhythmic punching of laptop keys echoed through her room. We'd been holed up at Sylvester House since our discussion the night before, attempting to find ways of locating when and where the trucks would pass. 

We'd both agreed the first time she'd found them out was an anomaly. It was largely based on people talking, chatter among some low-level thugs who skulked in dark alleys and long shadows whenever they pleased. 

"Want me to get you some food? Coffee?"

Zazu waved at me over her shoulder, a frown on her face. 

"I'll be fine. I just need to focus." 

I took it as my cue to leave, and so I did. I slipped out of the room quietly, shutting the doors softly. The high-pitch, gleeful background noise from Lila, Dexter and Cole echoed through the house. They were holed up in one of their rooms, playing one of the many board games spread around the space. 

I'll have to clean that up later. If I step on a goddamn Lego again, I'm starting another revolution. 

Heading down, I decided to get myself some coffee instead. The kitchen was in semi-order, as it'd been cleaned by the kids the previous night. I switched on the coffee machine, tipped some powder into the filter and watched as the water started boiling. 

I turned, cocked my hip against the counter. Outside, the scraggly, dry yard looked even more desolate beneath grey skies. It was a dreary day, which were rare in San Helios but occurred all the same. A sad, lone chain hanging off the fence swung lightly in the breeze. I could almost imagine its clinking, but as it was the whirring of the coffee machine was the only noise spinning through my head. 

Placing a hand on the counter, my knuckles turned white as I gripped it, hard. I wanted to sigh, deeply, over the entire predicament we'd found ourselves in. 

Can't you just let a girl steal and keep living on her own? 

Apparently, no, because now I had an incompetent civilian, a nosy, tourist superhero and a megalomaniac of an ex-mentor all grabbing at my attention.