Guitar Hero (Cape High Series Book 12) (8 page)

"Well, yeah," I hear someone mutter under their breath. "Probably another speech on how we should stay in school."

"Everyone probably thinks I'm here to tell you to stay in school, huh?" Emily asks over the mic. I see the kid that said it turn bright red, and I KNOW he knows she heard him. "Well, you should, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm here for a different type of after-school-special speech!"

That earns choked laughter from the crowd, especially as she pulls herself onto the podium, swinging her legs in front of it. "I'm here to talk about diversity. It's a really big word, so I'm sure you've had it in vocab at least once. Diversity is having a body of people with different attributes, skills, and backgrounds. There's racial diversity, that's a big one, and there's social diversity, which isn't talked about nearly as much now. And then there's OUR type of diversity."

Two poofs appear on either side of her and her doppelgangers lean against the podium casually as the crowd gasps in shock. "I'm my very own diverse group," Emily says with a little grin. She seems quite happy to have the mic, I notice as she plays with it, she's probably relishing the promise of having one of her own someday. "It isn't easy being a duplicator, did you know that? I'm dating Kid Liberty, but these two are always out to get his attention."

The crowd starts laughing, while several boys in the group look distinctly awkward. They're probably imagining what it's like to have three girlfriends in one. I've heard Trent describe it once. His words? Expensive.

"But I'm just one of the kids at Cape High—you've heard of Cape High, right? We're a school that's full of teenagers with special abilities. Super brats. We've got all sorts of kids—short ones, tall ones—" she grins as she sees their faces, "kids that can climb the walls, kids that can control water, kids that have sonic scream abilities. You know, your normal batch of teenagers. I'm sure a few of you have special talents, too, right?"

The crowd looks around, looking at each other thoughtfully.

"Kid Liberty did a speech like this a week ago—I bet some of you saw it on YouTube. This is the part where I tell my own story," she says. "It might shock you, but super teens have just as many problems as normal ones—in some cases we have more. My parents died in the line of duty almost two years ago," she says, her tone serious. "I was placed into a foster home in the super community, but it didn't work out. I had a few… problems with their daughters. I was bullied."

The crowd is staring at her intently, hanging off of her every word. It's only because I'm watching them instead of her that I even notice the quiet group of adults slipping into the back of the gym. My eyes narrow and I take an unconscious step forward, but they just stand there, watching stonily as Emily goes on.

"School wasn't easy, either. When my powers started manifesting I had to worry about Ditto, here, popping up when she wasn't wanted," she says, pointing at the doppelganger on her right. “It’s hard being different in high school, especially when you're as different as we are. But there are still super kids going to regular schools, trying to fit in, trying to hide what they are."

"So why are you calling them out?" one of the adults shouts from the back. Emily blinks, looking back at them with surprise. "Leave our kids alone!"

"You're not wanted here!" a second yells, waving a poster that says "Keep Supers out of OUR Schools!"

"Get out of our schools!"

"You're not wanted here!"

Emily looks back at Falconess, a questioning expression on her face. I step forward, a bit surprised when Freddy steps next to me, his hands clenched. "Wait a second," Emily says, "you actually think I WANT them to come forward? In front of all these people? Are you crazy?"

"It sure sounds like you do!"

"Oh heck no!" Emily says, shaking her head almost violently. "See, that's exactly the opposite of why I came."

They start yelling that she's lying, that she's out to terrorize the kids at the school. I see the worried looks on the students' faces, see them looking for a way to escape, and I can't help myself.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP NOW!" I bellow. The windows high above the gym start to crack, the dangling lights shake violently, and the room goes silent, looking at me in shock.

For a long moment I see their mouths move but nothing coming out. And then one of the girls lets out a squeal. "It's JUSTIN!"

They race forward, crushing over us like a wave as they try to get to me. Well, crap, I think as I'm overwhelmed by teenage girls. I should have thought this through.

I barely see the protesters being confronted by the school staff before I'm buried in rabid fan-girls.

***

I would be nursing a black eye right now, or worse, if I weren't a super. Thankfully my clothes are all in one piece, too, I think as I look down at the uniform Nico had made for me. The only thing I don't think will ever recover is my hair. They'd tried plucking several strands and failed before Falconess rescued all of us and the cops came. Now my hair doesn't want to stop sticking up straight, I think with irritation. I pat at it, regardless, trying to get it to go back to its proper position. Nope, not going to happen. I sigh and give up.

We're sitting in the tour bus, the picture of failure. It's all my fault, I know it, they know it, but no one's said it yet. I should just man up and admit it, I decide. "I'm s—"

"That was set up," Falconess says before I can finish.

"What?" I ask.

"It was set up. Someone must have let it out that we were going to speak at one of the schools, and they brought in protesters. I talked to the teachers after I got you out of there and the cops came—none of the students were even related to the protesters. They were just trying to create a problem."

"And thanks to me, they accomplished it," I mutter.

"No, actually I don't think that's what they'd planned," Falconess admits. "I think they wanted something other than a fan-girl problem. They wanted to make the kids paranoid. And they probably wanted something OTHER than another feel-good piece like what Trent did back home. The more unprofessional we look, the better."

"Well they succeeded in that," I mutter, pulling out a comb and trying to fix my hair again. "All I wanted was for them to shut up."

"Did those fans hurt you?" Malina asks, making me look up at the bunk over my head.

"Nah, but they really screwed up my hair! I might have a bald spot because of that," I complain. She leans closer, touching the hair.

"Oh… yeah, I see it," she says. "I'm so sorry, Justin—it's not THAT noticeable—"

"WHAT?" I yelp, jumping to my feet and racing for the bathroom. I don't even realize it was a joke until everyone behind me starts cracking up. "Malina! That wasn't funny!" I complain as I come back out.

"It was, too!" Emily says, laughing her head off.

"Sorry," Malina says with an impish smile. "I couldn't help myself."

I give her a dirty look, but she just starts laughing at me again, so I give up and sit down at the table. "How can we fix this? Is it possible to go back to that school? Nico said there might be one of the outed healers there, right? The outing took place in their halls." One good thing about what had happened was that it took place during school hours, and practically every teenager in America has a smartphone.

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that," Falconess admits. "Not only do we have a schedule to keep to, the school staff has kindly asked us NOT to come back. They have enough horror stories about schools as it is. I hate to say it, but this might be a write-off. We can only hope that Negtia follows up on the lead later and sees about bringing the girl to the Hall."

"I can't do that," I say. "Look, the only reason she even let us into her territory is to do this—"

"No, the only reason she let us in is because of you," Falconess says bluntly. I feel a blush creep up the back of my neck, but I ignore it.

"That doesn't matter right now," I say. "I didn't come to be a hero—I never want to be a hero. The only reason I agreed to be outed as a super is for this mission! To—to keep other kids from winding up like the zoo kids did," I say, lowering my voice. "This will be my only mission, ever, as far as I'm concerned, and to write it off and hand it over to Negatia is as good as admitting I did it all for nothing."

"So what do you think we should do?" Emily asks me.

"We find the kid, we talk to them," I say, looking at her. "We can do that much, right? It's all we need to do to complete the mission. Either they agree to try Cape High or they don't, that's not our problem, but we have to at least give them the chance."

"Do we have the video of them?" Emily asks Falconess.

"We do—"

"I think you're going to want to see this," Alphonse says, bringing down the television for all of us to watch. The news is on, with the reporter interviewing people.

"We have the right to free speech!" the woman closest to the mic says, holding up another sign that says "Keep Supers out of OUR Schools." "We have the right to say when we want someone or don't want someone in our public schools!"

"Your friends were protesting inside, is that correct?" the news reporter demands. "Is there any reason it couldn't have been done outside?"

"We have the right to say what needs to be said to the people that need to hear it!" a second protester yells from behind the first. "We have more right to be in the school than they do! We're tax-paying citizens!"

"Weren’t your friends taken away by the police, though? Schools are treated as private property for the safety of the students--YOU were the ones that were uninvited, correct?” the reporter points out. "Can you tell us the reason why you protest supers being invited to talk at schools?"

"It's our right to protect our children! Supers should be nowhere near the schools! It's too dangerous!" The irony of that statement seems to be lost on the woman saying it, but it isn’t for the reporter--I can see it on her face.

The screen changes to the news station, showing an attractive black woman with a piece of paper in her hands and a slight frown on her face. "You know, my daughter would LOVE to have Divine Justice come speak at her school," she says quietly, looking over at someone next to her. She jerks, suddenly, turning to the camera with a plastered on professional smile. "In other news, a cow was born with a strange growth—"

Falconess turns off the television. "This is just going to get more difficult," she says quietly, looking at us. "Do you think it's smart to do what you’re thinking?"

"We're super heroes," Emily says, "when has 'smart' ever had to do with it? All we need is her name and address."

"Can Nico get those things?" I ask.

"Why should he? This is OUR mission."

***

Super drama is so much the norm in our society that it's not enough to close down school. That's why there are still clubs and sports practice going on as we approach Princeton’s soccer field. We're not in uniform this time—we're wearing something much, MUCH worse. "She was right," Emily says, making a face and reaching up to touch her brown wig, "this thing is really itchy."

"Where did you get that from, anyway?" I ask. Emily as a brunette is a bit disconcerting. She looks so… normal. She even put on a pair of fake glasses, some jeans, and a t-shirt that has absolutely nothing on it.

"Mom wore it on the plane trip up to Grandma's," she says, scratching again. "Are you making fun of my disguise?" She looks at me pointedly, and I look down at my favorite ugly shirt and khaki shorts with a hint of self-consciousness. "At least you didn't bring the pocket protector," she mutters.

"I'm trying to fit in," I protest, shoving at my own dorky glasses.

"We need to at LEAST get him some glasses that don't look like Buddy Holly," Malina says. It's terrible, but we dressed her up like a grade schooler. If anyone asks, she's Emily's little sister. But at least she seems really happy with her My Little Pony backpack, right? In fact she twists so she can see it and smiles even as I think that. "Carla is going to LOVE this," she says happily. "I just wish I wore the same size shoes as her—she'd really love these," she adds, holding one foot up to show off her Rainbow Dash slip-ons.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, guiltily.

"Huh? What for?" she asks, looking at me.

"We dressed you like a little kid—"

"No, I am dressed like a hard-core brony—er pegasister, I think they call them," she tells me, holding up a finger as she launches into an explanation. "Either way, there's a difference! That the average person doesn't understand doesn't mean I care—check this out, these shoes ONLY come in my size, millions of fan boys and girls over the world are raging with jealousy over that fact. I'm only feeling guilty about Carla."

"Who is SUPER picky about her shoes, and as much as she'd like those, she'd never wear them," Freddy says. He's wearing a tank top, a pair of sunglasses, and a beanie with Ace's symbol on the front. "Ever since she got those shoes down south she's sworn off brand names completely. If anything, she'll talk Kim into making her shoes with Rainbow Dash on the side—then we'll probably have a huge war with Hasbro—"

"She can get rainbows on them," I say, "and leave the pony off." As we talk, we casually join the massive group of teenagers on the sports field. They're scattered all over in small groups, doing everything from running to chatting on the bleachers. There aren't that many teachers out here, thankfully. I see all of two, and both are working with the students on the field. We head for one of the groups hanging out on the bleachers.