Super Secret Series (Book 1): Super Model (7 page)

“Where have you been?”

Mom blew up my phone the entire time I was at Audrey’s house. I finally texted her that I was on the way home from the library. I skipped Poco entirely and just went straight upstairs to our apartment. I figured she’d be working and I could take a shower and settle in before seeing her.

But Mom was sitting in the dark living room. She didn’t have the TV on and she wasn’t reading a book or anything. She was just sitting there in the dark. I turned the light on before I even realized she was even there. Her face looked tired and worried.

“At the library,” I repeated the lie I’d texted her earlier.

“No, you weren’t.” Mom is such a loud person. She was always talking and fussing and kissing. Dad used to call her passionate. That had always been her way. She only got scary when she got quiet.

“Mom—”

“Don’t,” she cut me off. “Don’t lie to me again. That’s all you’ve been doing lately. I went to the library. You were not there.”

“Um—”

“I called your school to ask where the SHSAT study group was meeting. They said there wasn’t one.”

“But—”

“They said you hadn’t even signed up to take the test. You’ve been lying this whole time, haven’t you?”

She finally paused for me to get a word in, but I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to just spit out the whole story. Keeping all of this to myself was hard. And I wasn’t sure this is how I wanted to spend the next seventy years of my life.

Mom took my silence for defiance. “Oh, are you at a loss for words? Are you thinking up another lie to tell me? If your father were here to see this, he—”

“If Dad were here, none of this would be happening,” I blurted out. “You keep acting like everything is fine but it’s not. All you do is work, work, work. I hear you crying in your room at night. You’re not happy. You’re not OK. You’re lying every single day, every single time you talk to me. And you’re just focusing on this school thing to distract yourself.”

Mom closed the gap between us with a couple of steps. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me how to how to grieve. I am the mother. You are the child,” she pointed at me, poking me in the chest hard. “Now you tell me where have you been all of this week?”

“I’ve been looking at a new school.” That was
kinda
true.

“A school? But why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s a boarding school. I want to go away to school.” I didn’t know where that came from.

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. You are my daughter. I should know what’s going on with you. I should know what your plans are. I should be included in these decisions.”

“I’ll figure it out on my own.” I scowled at her. “I want to be on my own. I don’t want to be smothered all of the time. I don’t want you texting me about when I’m going to be home. I don’t want you to tracking my every move. I think it’s time for you to get a hobby or something.”

Mom looked like I’d slapped her. And in a way I felt like I had. But I said what needed to be said. I just wanted to be away from her. “Can I go to my room now?”

“Go.” I stomped toward my room but Mom stopped me before I got there. “Penny?”

I didn’t even turn around to face her. “What?”

“I don’t want to hear any more lies from you. If you can’t tell me the truth, just don’t say anything to me at all.”

The next time I saw Mom was at breakfast. She was doing her usual thing but she set my food down in front on me without even making eye contact, let alone speaking. It was awkward and weird. But I wasn’t surprised by any of it.

We’d never had a fight like that. This was beyond grounding me or taking my phone away. I knew I’d hurt her feelings. But I wasn’t ready to apologize. Instead I spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday in my room, alternating between watching
Golden Girls
reruns and trying to force myself to be psychic by practicing with the cards.

On Sunday, Jeannie called out because she had an emergency and I found myself volunteering to take her shift that evening. For the past week, I’d been too busy making up nonexistent friends and study groups to work in the diner after school. I was still feeling guilty about the fight and about slacking off. Mom accepted my offer without comment and went upstairs for the night.

Sunday evenings were generally slow but I kept myself busy. We didn’t have any problems and by 8:30PM, I was ready to shut down. I started to clean up while the last couple finished their meal in the corner table.

I dropped the check on the lovebirds and gave them a look that I hoped said that I was ready to close up. Then I set up the half-empty ketchup, salt, and pepper holders on an unused table so I could fill them up.

“Marrying” the condiments had to be done once a day. Before I started officially helping out in the diner, I would come down before bed and do the condiments with my dad. I could still remember him giving me the goofy explanation of the term. “Well when one ketchup and another ketchup love each other. . . and are half empty. . . they share ketchup to become one ketchup. . .” Then he’d position one ketchup over the other and wiggle his eyebrows. It was a lame attempt at humor but it made me laugh every time.

As I worked, my mind was free to wander. Considering everything that had been happening, I had plenty of distance to cover. Just seven days ago, I’d been eaten up by the idea that my father’s unfinished business would stay that way. And now, I had a Big Super, a telepathic test, and a growing ulcer to go with it. But at least I had a shot. I didn’t know whether to throw up or to jump for joy.

The lovebirds in the corner paid their check and made their way out of the diner. “Have a nice night, guys. Thanks,” I called after them. I flipped the sign to “Closed” and took the money over to the register. As I was counting down the change from the bill to put into the tip jar, the bells over the door jangled.

Ugh. I forgot to lock the stupid door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” I said without looking up. “But we open tomo—” I choked on the words and never finished the sentence. Miss Fine was standing in doorway of the diner.

She walked over to the counter right across from the register, where I stood frozen in place. “That’s fine. I’ll make it quick,” she said, taking a seat.

“Wha—Um—How—” I stumbled, not quite getting a whole word out. “Coffee?” I don’t know why I said that. I’d already cleaned and shut down the coffee machine earlier. There wasn’t any coffee made.
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

Miss Fine gave me a stiff nod. “Sure. I’ll take it black, please.”

I tried to hide my grimace and started a fresh pot of coffee. “I’ll just make a fresh pot. It will be just a few minutes.” We sat there in silence for a few moments before I thought to ask her the question that was burning in my mind. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you.”

“But I mean. . . why?”

“Because I wanted to congratulate you on your test results. They were very. . . impressive.”

Cold sweat sprouted on my brow. She knew. I just knew that she knew. And now she had come to take my memories.

I didn’t say anything. I was too scared to formulate words. She didn’t wait for me to answer, though. “You’re trying to do what you think your father would want you to do, aren’t you?” She paused, to give me room to speak but I was still frozen in place. She went on. “Did you know I knew your father?”

“No. He. . . never mentioned you.”

“Dan and I went to the Academy together. We even dated a bit. He was always one of the good ones.” She cleared her throat, as if reminding herself to stay on track. “You look a bit like him. Definitely around the ears. I hadn’t seen him since school but I could see him in you.” The coffee machine made a little beeping sound behind me. “The coffee’s ready,” Miss Fine observed.

I turned around and started to make her cup, hoping she couldn’t see my shaking hands. When I turned back to hand her the coffee, she took it without comment.

She stirred it, even though she hadn’t put anything in it. Then she continued. “Your father was an optimist. He could always find the gray in a black and white world. He was quite stubborn about it, actually.”

I nodded. That did sound a lot like him.

“But the real world isn’t made for optimists. It’s made for realists, like me,” she added

“Why did you come here?” I asked again.

“Because it’s a good place to get a cup of coffee.” She reached into her inside pocket and brought out a picture. “And to give you this.”

She slid the photo across the counter. It was a school photo with the crest of the Academy in the lower right corner. I recognized the younger version of my dad right away. I looked down at it for a moment before reaching for it. Just as I put my hand on it, she covered my hand with hers. It was as cold as ice. I yanked my hand away.

“And I wanted to offer you the chance to back out now. If you fail, you’ll lose every memory of Supers and anything related to Supers. I don’t know if you know that will include a lot of memories of your father.”

“I know,” I squeaked out.

“If you give up now, I’ll still erase your memories but I’ll make sure to leave you a lot of good ones about your father.”

She had offered it like she was doing me a favor but I could read between the lines. There were no favors being offered. “I want my memories, though. So, no thank you.”

“Are you sure? You won’t even miss them.”

“No.” I tried to sound firm, not scared. I failed.

“Fine.” She rose from her seat. “I wanted to know all of your options. I owe Dan at least that.” Miss Fine went to the door. “Good night, Penny. And good luck.” And with a jangle of the bells on the door, she was gone.

I took my first deep breath since Miss Fine had entered the diner. I looked down at her cup. She hadn’t even taken one sip.

What would your dad want you to do?

I texted Audrey as soon as Miss Fine left. She texted me back immediately with a question I just didn’t know the answer to. I couldn’t say what my dad would do. I really just wished he were around to tell me. I finished closing up and went upstairs to bed.

That night, I had the dream again. I was still in the hallway with the offices that wouldn’t open but this time I couldn’t find the elevator. And when I opened the book I was holding to look for some answers, all of the pages were blank. I woke up in a terrible mood.

Me and mom were still not really on speaking terms so I grabbed my backpack and left without breakfast. I didn’t want to go through that awkward show again. I thought about stopping by the cemetery but realized I didn’t even want to see my dad. I didn’t know what to say to him, either.

After school, I headed over the Council building. I checked in and went upstairs to the eighth floor. I was alone in the waiting room this time so there was no people watching to do. By the time Lindsey appeared, I was ready to get the whole thing over with.

“Hi Penny.” She shook my hand enthusiastically and started to guide me down the hallway to our testing room. “I’ve been thinking about you all weekend. I’ve never given a test to someone who scored so high. I mean, I’ve only been working here for a few weeks but it’s still exciting. I feel like I’m witnessing the beginnings of something great. And I’m sure you’ll do just as great today.”

I wasn’t anywhere near so sure. But I just nodded my head along with her.

The testing room was just a table with a chair on either side. In one corner, an overhead camera recorded the whole scene.

“Let’s see. . . you sit here,” Lindsey pointed at the chair facing away from the camera. “No, wait. You’re supposed to take the other one. Sorry! This is my first time doing this test,” she added.

I sat down and tried to compose myself while Lindsey set up on her side of the table. She pulled out a file that I assumed was mine, a stack of notecards, a notebook, and a pen. “Penny, I’m going to pull cards from this stack and I want you to tell me which ones they are without me telling you. Simple, right?”

“Right.”

“Let’s get started.” She pulled the first card and cupped it with her hand as if I might see around the sides. “What do you think is on this card, Penny?”

“Are you going to tell me what the options are?”

She seemed a little confused by my question. “Well, no. You just tell me what you see. Well, not what you see,” Lindsey quickly corrected herself. “I mean, what you
see
.” She used the air quotes and everything.

I took a deep breath and tried to access my powers deep inside my mind. I thought of my dad. I thought about what I was fighting with my mom about. I even thought about Audrey. “The king of hearts?” I didn’t sound confident, which made perfect sense because I wasn’t confident.

Lindsey wasn’t very good at hiding the disappointment in her voice. “No. Try again.”

“A star?”

“How about we move to the next card, hmm?” She pulled another one from the pack and held it up so that the back faced me and the front faced her. “What about this one?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Lindsey, maybe I should take a break or something.” I put my head on the table.

“But we just started.” She adjusted her glasses. “Just try. No one is expecting you to get every single one right. Just try,” she repeated.

I picked my head up and looked up at Lindsey, grateful that she seemed so invested in my success but also kinda sad for her. And that’s when I saw the card reflected in her glasses. I could clearly see that the red circle on the card, right in front of Lindsey’s encouraging gaze.

I took a moment to think about whether taking advantage of this person’s trusting and encouraging nature made me smart or a monster. “Circle.” I’d made my decision.

“Yes!” Lindsey was so excited. “And this one?” She pulled out another card and held it exactly the same way.

“X.”

“What about this one?”

“Cross”

“Oh my God, you’re doing so well!”

It went on like that until the cards were gone. I made sure to miss a bunch, though. I didn’t want a repeat of the last test. When we were done, Lindsey looked at her notepad with delight. “You did well, Penny. Sixty percent. You know the average person with no abilities probably only gets about twenty-five percent.”

“So what’s next? Am I in?”

Lindsey opened the file in front of her. “Yes, you did awesome on both tests. Congratulations, Penny. It looks like you’re—” She stopped herself in mid-sentence. “Wait. There’s a note here that you have to have a meeting with Miss Fine before you can go any further.”

I groaned and banged my head down on the desk. “Noooo!”

“Don’t be so worried, Penny. Miss Fine is actually really good at her job. She probably just wants to be the one to tell you the good news since you’ve done so well. I’m sure that’s exactly what it is.”

I looked up at Lindsey’s bright, shiny, optimistic face. I wish I could be as full of hope as she was. Unfortunately, I just knew too much about what was happening to do that.