The Trials of Renegade X (5 page)

“And last year you were so sure you were going to get your
V
. Not that you thought to inform me about that. You just let me believe you were some kind of hero.”

The way I remember it, she wanted to believe I was a hero. But I did also sort of not tell her I was raised by a villain instead of her idol, the Crimson Flash, as she mistakenly assumed, or that I was intending to shirk all of my hero genes as much as possible. So I can see how she might think I was somewhat at fault.

“I
could
end up getting a
V
,” I admit. She’s right—not that long ago, it was all I wanted. Now, I’m not so sure. Kat would be happy if I got a
V
, and her parents wouldn’t exactly be too broken up about it, either. Mom might even start talking to me again. Not that I want her to. But it’s not like I could go back to my old life, even if I did get a
V
. Plus, I’d lose my entire hero family. And now I find out Sarah would abandon me, too. So, it kind of has to be an
H
. It’s just the only option that makes any sense.

“I can’t be a sidekick for a villain,” she says quietly, almost to herself.

I nod. I get it. Sort of.

“But even if that happens, we’ll still always be friends.”

I feel like I’m going to throw up. Why does that sound like a breakup line? Especially if we’re not, you know, breaking up. She was supposed to realize she needs to ditch Riley in this scenario, not me. “Right. Just you, me, and good old Riley. Best friends forever.” Until he mysteriously disappears and his body is never found, and
not
just because he can go invisible.

“It probably won’t happen,” she says. “It’s only hypothetical.”

Yeah, but I don’t know how long it’s going to take for my thumbprint to change. It might stay an
X
for years, or it might turn into an
H
tomorrow. Except, if it really did change tomorrow, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be into an
H
.

“So,” I say, “hypothetically speaking, if I had a
V
but you still agreed with what I was doing—fighting crime and stopping bad guys and stuff—you’d have to leave. For Riley, just because his genetics have given him some seal of approval.” Because I’m not going to change my ways just because I get an
H
, so I don’t really see the difference here. I’ll be the same person with either letter.

“Damien, it’s not that—”

Heraldo barks, interrupting her. He leaps out of his dog bed and races to the front door, arriving just as there’s a knock.

“—simple. That’s Riley. I’m going to have a talk with him. About telling you things that aren’t true.”

But even as she’s talking about scolding him, her face lights up when she says his name. And when she opens the door, Riley pulls her into an embrace and kisses her before she can say anything. It’s a really intimate kind of kiss and pretty disgusting—not like when me and Kat make out in public—and I look away, feeling uncomfortable. And maybe a little guilty. Not because I shouldn’t be seeing this, but because I’m pretty sure I never kissed her like that when we were together. We weren’t exactly together very long, and the point
was
to be messing around ... But still. Maybe Sarah deserves to have someone kissing her like that, like they really mean it. I just wish it didn’t have to be
him
.

My phone rings—probably Kat calling to tell me how awesome Vilmore is—and startles Riley, who was too busy kissing my sidekick to notice me. I let it keep ringing. I’ll call her back when I get outside, plus as long as it’s annoying Riley, I don’t see any reason to stop it.

“Oh, hey, X,” Riley says, finally breaking away from Sarah before they both asphyxiate to death, “I didn’t see you there.” He doesn’t sound embarrassed, just surprised and annoyed. “Did you come over so we could help you with your homework? I know pretending to be a hero is hard for you, so here’s a tip. Any of the questions that ask what you should do when confronted by a villain? The answer isn’t to congratulate them on the crime they just committed. Or to make out with them. It’s to put them in jail,
where they belong
.”

Sarah jabs him in the ribs. “
Be nice
.”

And he’s the only one in the room with an
H
on his thumb. Must be great for your genes to lie for you like that. I wonder if it would still be an
H
if the letter he got was based on his actions instead of his parents. I’m pretty sure stealing another hero’s sidekick is a crime. Or at least it should be.

My phone chimes, indicating there’s a voicemail. I ignore both it and Riley and pretend like he isn’t even there. “Well, Cosine old pal, I know you’re going to be devastated by this, but it’s time for me to go. No, no, don’t beg me to stay. I couldn’t possibly.”

“We’re on for Saturday,” Sarah says. “I have a new gadget for you to try out. We’ll go out patrolling. There’s got to be
some
bad guy out there we can test it on.”

The way her eyes glint, I hope all the bad guys stay home on Saturday, at least if they want to keep all their fingers. But I don’t tell Sarah that—I know from experience reminding her that crime-fighting tools don’t have to be deadly is a waste of time. Instead, I say, “Wouldn’t miss it,” and then ever-so-casually bash my shoulder into Riley really hard as I make my way out the door.

My phone chimes again, not letting me forget I haven’t listened to the voicemail Kat left me. I smile a little, thinking about calling her and telling her about my first day at Heroesworth. She’s the only one who’ll really get how stupid I felt in class today, being the only half villain in a school full of heroes. She’s also the only person I’d admit that to. And she’s going to laugh so hard when I tell her about how each wing of Heroesworth is named after a different heroic virtue, like Courage or Honesty. And how, despite one of the wings being Generosity, no one would lend me a pencil when mine broke during a pop quiz in Morality about who we would save if we had to make a choice—a runaway train full of gradeschoolers, or a loved one about to be hit by said train.

I grab my phone, ready to call Kat without even listening to her message first, when I notice the caller ID says the call wasn’t from Kat at all—it was from Gordon. Great. He probably wants to know how my first day went and why I’m not home already for some quality bonding time about how great it is to go to Heroesworth. As if that’s going to happen.

I almost don’t even listen to it. He’s going to say the same things when I get home—why listen to them twice? It’s going to be boring enough the first time around. But then I give in and call my inbox, just in case. Like maybe he was calling to tell me I got a letter from Vilmore saying this was all a big mistake and they want me there tomorrow.

Not that I’d go, but it would be nice to be
asked
. And then to throw the invitation in their face.

And okay, maybe I’d at least think about it first. I mean, being surrounded by superhero kids who won’t give me the time of day because they think they’re all better than me—even if it’s actually the other way around—doesn’t exactly compare to pretty much moving in with my girlfriend. Then there would only be two places on our checklist—my room and hers.

“Damien,” Gordon’s voice says in the message. He sounds out of breath. And kind of freaked. “There’s been an accident.”

My stomach clenches and my blood turns cold. It’s the hiccup in his voice when he says “accident.”

“Alex is hurt. We need you at the hospital.”

Chapter 4

I CALL GORDON ABOUT a million times on my way to the hospital, but he doesn’t pick up. I try calling Helen’s phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. I would call Amelia—there’s no way she would ever not answer a phone—but she doesn’t have one, thanks to Gordon’s and Helen’s “it’s a privilege, not a right” policy. Which translates to, “Really we think you’ll run up our bill too much and get in trouble at school.”

Obviously, Gordon doesn’t know the first thing about phone usage. If it was up to me, I would revoke his “privilege” of having a cell phone, because
why would anyone leave a message like that
? There’s been an “accident”? What the hell
kind
of accident?! My little brother is in the hospital, and Gordon calls me, freaks me out with his vague-but-terrifying message, and then doesn’t even have the decency to answer his phone when I call back?

My thoughts race the whole bus ride there. I think about how Alex is only eight and gave up his room for me without ever complaining. I think about our ongoing game of trucks vs. dinosaurs, and what if I never get to find out what happens? I play the T-Rex, and occasionally a very sneaky Velociraptor, and Alex plays everybody else. And you can’t really play trucks vs. dinosaurs with only a Tyrannosaurus and his Velociraptor sidekick, who is usually away on spy missions and so is never around. You just can’t.

The bus gets slowed in traffic, and it takes what feels like a million years to get to the hospital. I jump out the second the bus stops and race through the main entrance and up to the reception desk. I’m out of breath and sweaty, and I’m pretty sure my hair is all over the place, because I couldn’t stop running my hands through it like some kind of hair-touching maniac.

“My dad called me,” I pant, not waiting for the receptionist to look up at me or finish typing on her computer.

“One second,” she says, frowning at the screen and clicking her mouse a few times.

“It’s my brother.”

She holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait, and it’s about all I can do not to freak out any more than I already am. I want to shout that my dad’s not picking up his phone, and this is an emergency, and if I don’t find out what’s going on
right this second
, I’m probably going to die of a heart attack. Except that I’m already in the hospital, so maybe I’ll make it through. But still. That kind of anxiety can’t be good for anyone, plus how’s Gordon going to feel if both his sons end up in this place?

Then again, if he didn’t want me to keel over from assuming the worst, maybe he should leave better messages or answer his phone once in a while.

I tap my fingers against the counter. I run my hands through my hair again. “Look, I really,
really
need to find out what’s going on.”

She ignores me for a few more seconds until she’s done typing, then smiles and says, “Your name, please?”

“Damien Locke.” I think I hear my phone beep, so I grab it to check. Nope. Just wishful thinking.

“Locke,” she mutters, peering at the computer screen and clicking away on the keys again.

“Yeah, but that’s not the name it’s—”

“Here we are. Marianna Locke.”

“That’s my mom. But—”

“She’s in room 214. I just need you to sign in right here”—she shoves a clipboard with a space for my name and sign-in time at me—“and then you can go see her.”

“What?”

“Just make sure you knock first. There should be a sign on the door, but we don’t want to startle her.”

I’m pretty sure seeing me would be startling enough. “My mom’s
here
?”

“Yes.”

“In the hospital.” Villains don’t go to hospitals. At least, not if they can help it, and not if they don’t want the police asking a lot of questions. There are plenty of villain doctors who make house calls, so what would she ever be doing here? Unless something bad happened. Something so bad that she had to be rushed here for immediate treatment.

I swallow, not sure who I’m worried about more, her or Alex. It
should
be Alex—he’s the one I came to see. He’s the one I’ve been freaking out about since I got that call, and he’s never betrayed me or stopped talking to me. But ... I can’t help thinking my mom would
never
go to a hospital.

I picture my mom and Alex getting into some kind of head-on collision and both being rushed here. Except Alex is only eight, and my mom doesn’t even own a car. Or at least she didn’t five months ago.

“Your mother and your brother are both resting comfortably. Everything went smoothly—no complications.”

What the hell is she talking about? “So, Alex Tines, he’s okay?”

She scrunches up her eyebrows at me. “Who?”

I feel like I’ve stepped into some kind of alternate universe where nothing makes any sense. “My
brother
.”

“I think there’s been some kind of confusion. It says here your brother’s name is Xavier Locke. He was born this morning at ten fifty-two a.m.”

Oh. My. God, as Amelia would say. I don’t know what I would say, because I’m too stunned to speak, but I think it would involve some choice expletives.

My mom had a baby and didn’t tell me. She hates me that much that she wasn’t even going to tell me I have a brother. An all-villain half brother. A perfect little replacement.

My phone rings. I’m still too stunned to register what the sound is, but my hand moves to answer it completely out of muscle memory. “Hello?” My voice doesn’t sound like me. It sounds too numb, too dead to be me.

“Damien.” It’s Gordon. He sighs in relief. “I’m so sorry. I was so panicked, I left my phone in the car. I just realized I didn’t have it and that you might have tried to call.”

“Is Alex okay?”

“He fell down the attic stairs. He has a broken arm and a slight concussion, but he’s going to be fine. He’s getting his cast put on now, and Helen just took Amelia and Jess home.”

“I
told
you they were a deathtrap.” No one ever listens to me about the dangers of staircases, especially rickety ones that are about one stomp from Amelia’s hoof away from disintegrating into a pile of rusty nails and splinters.

“Yes, well, we’ll discuss that later.” He pauses, and I hear muffled sounds in the background, like he’s talking to someone else. Then he says, “Okay, I’ll ask. Damien, Alex wants to know what color cast you think he should get. Green or purple?”

“Green if he wants me to draw a T-Rex on it, purple if he wants me to draw a Velociraptor.” Ask me something I
don’t
know.