The Betrayal of Renegade X (Renegade X, Book 3) (36 page)

“And then you went and gave Mason my number.”

Riley clears his throat, ignoring my last comment. “Your dad being on TV wasn’t the only reason I called. You know the Heroes’ Gala that’s coming up next weekend?”

“No.”

“That was a rhetorical question.
Everybody
knows about the Heroes’ Gala. It’s, like, the biggest event of the year.”

“I’m half villain, remember? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Seriously? Okay, well, it’s this big fancy party where they announce all the important awards. Like Most Beloved Superhero. You do know your dad wins that one every year, right?”

“
Yes
. I’m not stupid.” Though I did just find that out last semester, after having lived with him for months. “Let me guess—he’s not even nominated this time, because of me.”

“He’s still in the running. Your commercials probably didn’t help, but he’s also getting a lot of sympathy for them. Because he still supports the League and all that. But, listen, you know that award Mrs. Deeds nominated me for? At Heroesworth?”

“Yeah, I remember.” How could I forget?

“Well, they do a couple big student awards at the Gala, too, and that’s one of them. It’s kind of a big deal, and I’ve got tickets. Me and Sarah are going to be there, and Zach and Amelia. And I thought—”

“Are you seriously inviting me to watch you win some stupid award at the
Heroes’
Gala? And I thought Amelia was banned from all things Perkins.”

“She was, but then, after you left... Well, Zach was pretty upset, so Mom decided to ease up.”

“You mean Curtis decided. Because I wasn’t around to be a bad influence anymore, right?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

“I have five guest tickets. Amelia doesn’t need one, because she’s getting one through your parents, and if you don’t take the other one, then Mom’s going to bring
Curtis
.”

“Great. Good to know I still rank above that douchebag. Is that the only reason you’re inviting me, or did you need someone to make runs to the refreshments table so you don’t miss your big moment?”

Riley makes a frustrated sound. “I’m inviting you because you’re my
friend
. Because maybe something really cool is happening to me, and I actually want you to be there. But if you’re going to be a jerk about it—”

“I’m the spokesperson for the Truth. The League already tried to haul me off just for walking through the park. Showing up at their big awards ceremony would probably be, like, triple red alert.”

“You’re half superhero. We’re all going to be there, and we’re not going to let them do anything to you. Plus, your dad will be there. They’re not going to nab you in front of the Crimson Flash.”

I’m not so sure about that. “You really think I can just walk into the Heroes’ Gala?”

“You’d have a ticket, right? And I know you could probably get one through your dad, too, but I figured since you’re
actually
not talking to him, that you wouldn’t want to ask. And it doesn’t matter anyway, as long as Mom thinks there’s no extra ticket. I’m still not technically supposed to hang out with you, but she doesn’t have to know who I’m saving it for.”

“Who has the other one?” I tap my fingers against the edge of the bed, doing the math.

“What?”

“You said you have five tickets. You’re only inviting four people. Your mom, Zach, Sarah, and me, because you said Amelia doesn’t need one. So, Perkins, who else did you invite that you were just conveniently not going to tell me about and hope I didn’t notice?”

He sucks in a breath, obviously annoyed that I wasn’t fooled. “Mason was
there
. He’s the reason I got nominated for this award in the first place.”

“Because he wrote about what you did at the museum in his report. He didn’t lift a finger to actually
help
you.”

“He’s my friend, X. Just like you. I want the people who are important to me to be there. And I get that you don’t like Mason—”

“Don’t
like
him? That’s sugarcoating it.”

“—and I get that you’re working with the Truth, and you don’t think you can show up. But for once in your life will you just
listen
to me?! Will you stop thinking about yourself and what you want for five freaking seconds?!”

“Hey, I didn’t—”

“You never care what I have to say, or what the consequences will be for anyone but yourself. That’s how this whole thing started, right? During our final last semester.
You
chose to zap that superhero.
You
didn’t listen to me—you didn’t care what I thought or what might happen to me because of your actions. So I had to partner up with Mason. And you know what? If the situation was reversed, he wouldn’t be giving me crap about it. If I’d made plans with him and had to change them for some reason—and not getting kicked out of school is a pretty good reason—he would have
understood
. He wouldn’t have tried to make me feel bad about it every single chance he got for the next couple months, or for the rest of your life, or however long you’re going to hold this stupid grudge! Because you know what? That’s what friends do.
Real
friends, anyway.”

“Perkins. I
am
your real friend.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient for you. You might think this whole awards ceremony is stupid, but it’s important to me. It’s next Saturday night at the Grand Park Hotel. Seven o’clock, black tie. I’ll leave your ticket at will call. If you can get over yourself by then, you should come.”

I
T’S WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, EXACTLY two weeks since the incident in the park, when those superheroes attacked me and tried to steal Alex. And now I’m sitting in my grandparents’ living room with my phone, watching response videos to the commercials we made.

At first, most of the responses were people crying with relief that they could finally talk about what heroes had done to them and the people they cared about. Or they were angry people, railing against the League and their new policies—both the policy of capturing villains and asking questions later, and the one of completely ignoring us. Those were the extremes, but in the last couple days, the response video thing has really caught on, and now everyone’s coming out of the woodwork to tell their stories or just to thank the Truth for making all this possible.

And to thank
me
, since I’m their spokesperson. It’s kind of weird, but really cool, too. Gordon can go on TV and say I’m wrong all he wants, but what I’m doing is actually helping people. Helping
villains
.

A notification pops up on my phone, and I switch over to the chat window. There’s a message from Kat, along with another video link.
My friends made this for you. :)

It’s not one of the crazy ones where some girl says she wants to marry me and/or have my baby, is it?

It better not be. Though Jordan did tell me he thinks you’re hot.

I hit the link, and the video starts up. A bunch of Kat’s friends are all crowded together, smiling at the camera. It’s pretty much everyone who was at her party I went to, minus Tristan, of course.

Kat’s suitemates, Tasha and Liv, are in the front, along with June, the girl who told me about her mom getting taken by the League. They’re holding up a homemade banner that says,
We luv u, Damien!
The guys—Jordon, Cameron, Blake, and Nathan—are all in the back. Liv counts off, “One, two, three,” and then the whole group shouts at the same time, “Thanks for telling us the
Truth
!”

They’re not the first ones to say that—it’s become part of the trend with these videos—but they are the first people to say it that I’ve actually met. And who it would maybe be cool to be friends with. I mean, we’ll probably never play Monopoly again, after the way I kicked their asses, but we could still hang out.

I thumbs up the video and hit
replay
, right as Grandpa walks in from his office. He stretches his back and looms over the couch, squinting at my phone. “I don’t know how you can see that thing. You’ll ruin your eyes.”

I shrug. “It’s fine.”

“The public has really taken to you, you know.” He grins at me.

I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you couldn’t see it?”

“I can
hear
it. And everyone’s been sending me links on the computer. I watched a couple of them. A lot of good things are happening because of you.”

“It wasn’t
just
me. But thanks, Grandpa.”

He points a finger at me. “You practice your lightning yet today?”

“Yes. Geez.”

“Good. And Gladys wants you to get to work cleaning out the garage soon. It’s almost planting season, and all her tools are in there. Somewhere.”

“I’m getting to it. Tomorrow,” I add, when he tilts his head. “And it’s only February. The ground’s still frozen.”

“She’s starting them inside. And anyway, she said if you clean the garage like I do, you’re going to need at least a month’s head start.”

“You should just stop putting so much crap in there.”

He laughs, as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I’ve got something I need you to do for me. Since you’re not busy.”

I glance at him, then at my phone. “I was going to call Kat, but I guess it can wait.”

“I need you to shoot another commercial. We’re going to put this one up on that internet site.”

“You mean YouTube?”

He waves that away, like he can’t be bothered to remember. “I got a PR guy. He says this online stuff is the fastest way to get a message out. So I need you to tell everyone about a rally we’re having Saturday night.”

“
This
Saturday?”

“Of course this Saturday. What’s the matter? You got somewhere to be?”

Yep. Not that I can actually go to Riley’s stupid awards ceremony. “It’s kind of short notice.”

“That’s why we’re using the internet. But don’t you worry—I’ve had this planned for weeks. We don’t want people to get all fired up about it, then have to wait and let their enthusiasm die down. And the longer people know about it, the longer those damn heroes have to try and stop it. But now we’ve got to get the word out. All these kids making videos because of you—”

“They’re not all kids.”

“Well, whoever’s doing it, these are the people I want coming to this rally. Villains who’ve got something to say. Who want to do something.”

“I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?”

“Maybe someone else should make the video this time. Because if I do it, then everyone’s going to expect to see me there.”

“And?”

“And you’re right, I have plans.”

“You’ll bring Kat to the rally. It’s not the best place for a date, but you can go anywhere you want afterward. Say the word, and I’ll make you a reservation. I’ve got connections with half the four-star restaurants in town.”

“Um, yeah, me and Kat don’t really do fancy restaurants.” Especially not if Grandpa wants to stay on friendly terms with his “connections.” I’ve been officially banned from two of the swankiest places downtown. One of them because I brought my own ketchup bottle and poured it all over my plate when the chef came out to personally see how we were enjoying the meal. And one because we were making out in public, and when the waiter asked us to stop, Kat gestured to all the octopus decor—it was a seafood restaurant—and shouted, “How do you expect anyone to control themselves with all these
tentacles
everywhere?” I couldn’t stop laughing, but the waiter’s face turned bright red, and he threatened to get the manager if we didn’t pay up and leave on the spot, even though we hadn’t even gotten our food yet.

“I’m buying,” Grandpa says.

I consider it, just for a second. “I can’t. I promised a friend I’d be somewhere.” Okay, I didn’t promise. Actually, I said I wasn’t going. And I’m not at all sure that I’d get through the door, even if I do have a ticket. But if I get turned away, at least I can say I tried. That counts as being a real friend, right? Even if I’m a half-villain spokesperson for the Truth and the Heroes’ Gala is probably the last place I should be.

Grandpa narrows his eyes. “A new friend? Because as far as I’m aware, Kat’s the only villain you hang around with.”

“A different friend.”

“A
hero
friend, you mean.”

“It doesn’t matter who I’m hanging out with. I can’t be there, okay? And that means it would be hypocritical if I told people to come to the rally.” Not to mention false advertising.

He takes a deep breath. “This is important. I need those people there, and you’re the one they’ll listen to.”

“I can do it next weekend.”

“No. It has to happen this Saturday. Tell your hero friend you’ve got something more important to do. If they’re really your friend, they’ll reschedule.”

“That’s not... We have tickets. To a thing. There’s no rescheduling.” I’m not about to tell him where I’m actually going. “Why can’t you reschedule? You haven’t even told anyone about it yet.”

“Damn it, kid. It’s got to be
this Saturday
, or else there’s no point!”

I flinch when he yells at me. Grandpa never yells at me. Not like that, anyway. Not like he means it.

“I’m sorry, Damien,” he says, after he gets a hold of himself. “I’m just under a lot of stress here.”

I glare at him. “If it’s really so important, why did you wait until the last minute to ask me? You said you’ve been planning it for weeks.” We could have filmed it when we did the other commercials. I could have told Riley I had other plans—unbreakable ones—and then he couldn’t really blame me for having to miss the awards ceremony. I mean, he probably still would have, but at least he’d know I had a good reason for not showing up.

“I didn’t think I had to worry about whether or not you’d do it. I didn’t pick you to be our spokesperson just because you’re famous, you know.”

“Being your spokesperson doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.”

He ignores me. “I’m not saying it doesn’t help, but it’s not the real reason. You’re a natural leader, like me. You know how to make people listen. How to make them follow you. It’s part of who you are. And you’re dedicated to the cause. You don’t have to look very far to see you’re already inspiring that dedication in others. The Truth needs you. I need you. And you have to trust me that this weekend is important.”