The Vigilante's Handbook (Misfits #1)

Thirty Five: Fighting My Best Friend (Again)

“Miguel!” I scrambled off the bed and to his side. He was laying on the floor. Shock was evident on his face as his gaze switched between his arm and my fist. “Are you okay?”

“When did you learn to do that? It hurt for once.” I took a better look at his arm. His coat was covered by a thin layer of frost where I hit him. It was quickly melting into nothing. 

He took in a deep breath like it hurt to say the words. “Unless you don’t want to tell me. I understand.” 

And I believed him. A liar wouldn’t be looking into my eyes like he actually cared about me. 

“I trust you because I want to trust you.” The words hurt me too, but there was no use lying to him. “It might be a weakness, but it’s all I have right now.” I would trust him until I absolutely couldn’t, and then it would hurt even more. 

So I explained. I told him all about what had really happened with Mona last night, about Eleanor’s visit to the motorhome, and the burning ice in my chest. “It hurts.”

“I think it’s supposed to.” We moved to rotting chairs in the cab of the motorhome.

“I thought you grew out of it.”

He rolled his eyes. It was as clear a message as ever. He hadn’t outgrown the pain. “We learn to deal with it so we can help people. That’s what superheroes do.”

If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed that Miguel’s power was making people glow. Because I felt like I was glowing. “Superheroes?”

“You’ve always been Green to me. Vigilantes have always been superheroes.” Despite the snow and the Gift working in my chest, I felt warm inside. “Do you know how to use those powers?”

I can think of only a few other situations in which you would want to fight your best friend. If you’re in an inflatable sumo wrestler suit or if the only other option is your sworn enemy bent on killing you. 

I would like to add this situation to that list. 

Miguel and I found a patch of ground that had been relatively saved from snow by the bare trees. Like setting up for a fight in Mr. Forrest’s class, we moved automatically. I traced a lopsided circle in the snow while Miguel took off his coat to expose his matching Academy jumpsuit. Say what you will about their ethics and reliability, but the Academy sure knew how to design a super suit. Mine had survived the fire in Grandma’s house with only a few scorch marks. It also allowed the cold to better seep into my body. The colder I was, the more energy I could pull in. 

I wondered what kind of specialities Miguel’s suit had. We shook hands in the middle of the ring like this was a normal classroom exercise. I guessed that I would find out soon. 

My “Good luck,” came out like a reflex. He smiled his reply back at me. 

Then we lined up on opposite sides of the ring, counted down from three, and it was like Forrest had blown the whistle telling us to go. 

Miguel lunged at me. In the middle of his jump, his human body was replaced with the gigantic wolf that had saved me from Julien. He crossed the ten feet of space between us like it was nothing. I rolled to the side just in time to avoid a one ton wolf to the chest. 

My roll wasn’t as calculated as it should have been and landed me on my back. The cold responded to my instincts, and a pillar of ice grew from the ground beneath me and shoved me until I was once again on my feet. No conscious thoughts necessary.

Miguel was rearing around once again for a jump attack. It took a glance at his paws to freeze them to the ground with a thick chunk of ice. Front paws first. Then the back. He snarled as he tugged against the frozen ground.