West Pacific Supers: Rising Tide (26 page)

“You probably need
to talk to the writers – that was a lousy line,” said Cosmic Kid as he
staggered over. He was already feeling better due to his superior immune
system, which wasn’t as potent as Starfish’s, but pretty damn impressive
nonetheless.

Camille laughed.
“The lines are supposed to be bad! The worse the line the more likely it becomes
popular. You kids today.”

“Bomb defused. Dr.
Wraith?” asked Blue Star as he came up.

“Dead?” asked Cosmic
Kid, looking at the mangled body in the pile of metal.

“If memory serves
you can’t kill Dr. Wraith as he is already dead – some sort of ghost I think,”
said Camille.

“Yeah,” said Blue
Star.

“So what do we do
with him?” asked Cosmic Kid.

“Ultimax – they can
hold all supervillains, even the living impaired,” said Blue Star.

“Containment team
already en route, he’ll be shipped to Alcatraz where all the undead get
dumped,” said Dr. Sterling over their headsets. “Good job, everyone. WPPD is on
the way for cleanup and the press is waiting in the lobby downstairs.”

Cosmic Kid had to
smile; this was what he loved about being a superhero.

5:21 p.m.,
Tuesday, April 30th, 2013

Mattheson
Elementary
School

West
Pacific, CA

“I’m
here!” yelled Camille, swooping in for a picture-perfect two-step landing next
to her husband, who was pacing by their car.

Jules looked at her
accusingly. “You’re late.”

“Look, I’m sorry, I
came as fast as I could.” Camille was annoyed. She had kicked ass in this
morning’s mock press conference, had one of the best training sessions of her
life this afternoon, and had just thwarted a bank robbery and saved the lives
of 15 hostages trapped in the vault. Sure, she was almost an hour late, but
hadn’t she been out saving the world?

“Sorry,” she
repeated, in a tone she knew sounded peeved. “Something came up.”

“Something always
comes up,” said Jules angrily. “But we agreed that when it comes to Meghan,
‘something’ has to take a back seat.”

He glared at her
testily and she felt her blood start to boil. Not literally of course,
literally was a much different and more unpleasant sensation as she’d
discovered when facing off against Inferno a couple years back. “Look, this is
only a parent-teacher conference, right? It’s not like I’m late for her
international stage debut.”

He gave her a
withering look. “Don’t try to brush this off, Camille. This is important and
you know that.” Whenever he lectured her, he looked older, she thought. Of
course, he was older, 12 years older as a matter of fact, but right now it
looked more like 20.

“Fine,” she snapped.
“Next time I’ll tell the hostages in the bank vault to just hold their breath
until I’m done with my parent-teacher conference. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
This was a cheap shot and she knew it. Jules didn’t even respond, just gave her
another disapproving look. They fumed silently into the building together.

Room 102
was located at the intersection of Respect Avenue, a hallway painted cherry
red, and Honesty Street, which was pineapple yellow. The large bulletin board
outside the classroom featured a laminated tree on which was taped an apple for
each member of the class, with a close-up picture and first name. Meghan’s eyes
were wide in her photo as if she was surprised or maybe scared. Camille
suddenly felt nervous. Jules was right; this was important. She had to get out
of hero-mode and remember that when it came to Meghan, the most important thing
she could do was to be just a mom.
I
am just a mom,
she thought to herself as they entered the
classroom.
It’s not always
about me; this is about Meghan. I am just a regular mom.

To Camille’s
surprise, Ms. Mallory couldn’t have been more than 25. She beamed at them and
cried out “Mr. and Mrs. Camille!” Camille could feel Jules blanch beside her.

“It’s actually
Richardson-Franklyn,” said Camille quickly, shaking the woman’s hand. “But you
can call us Camille and Jules if you like.”

The young woman
looked so excited as she shook hands that Camille was sure she was about to ask
for an autograph. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Camille said, sitting in one
of the small red chairs across from the teacher’s desk. “I am sorry we’re late,”
she added, with sincerity this time. Ms. Mallory brushed the apology aside with
a wave.

“Don’t be silly!”
she laughed. “Mrs. Brown-Kennings popped her head in earlier to let me know
about the bank robbery. How terrifying! Did you save everyone?”

“Yeah, we did,” said
Camille, feeling awkward again and flushing slightly as Jules stiffened on the
chair next to her.

“Fantastic! After
you beat Dr. Wraith and the team secured #4, you’ve got a real chance to sweep
the Conference,” Ms. Mallory said. “Faust is missing after that fight with the
dragon in San Francisco and he’s all that’s holding Golden Gate Heroes
together. The Firebirds are overrated and the High Rollers always fall apart at
the end of the Season. #1 is West Pacific’s to lose!”

“Can we talk about
Meghan, which is the point of this meeting?” asked Jules icily.

“Oh, she’s a
delight, such a precocious little girl! She particularly enjoys her specials -
art, music, PE. She’s had a little trouble sitting still for reading group, but
she’s bound to have lots of energy, isn’t she? I did want to ask - there’s
nothing in her record, but… does Meghan have any special abilities I should be
aware of?”

“Special abilities?”
asked Camille blankly.

“She has an
excellent ear,” replied Jules, rather dryly Camille thought.

“Oh, no, I more
meant in the way of… ” Ms. Mallory’s voice dropped as she leaned forward.
“Super powers.”

Camille laughed.
“No, no Meghan isn’t a mutant.”

“That we know of,”
added Jules.

“So she could still
develop powers!” said Ms. Mallory excitedly. “I’ve been reading about that.
Times of stress, often around puberty, right? Girls of course do get an initial
dose of hormones around seven, though that wouldn’t be until next year… ” She
looked disappointed to realize that Meghan was unlikely to manifest super
powers in her classroom.

“How is she fitting
into the class?” asked Camille, desperate to get the conversation back to
something normal.

“Quite well,”
responded Ms. Mallory. “I’ve paired her with Julie Chao, the daughter of Dr.
Steven Chao, the well-known physicist at West Pacific Laboratories. He’s a
mutant too.”

“Why did you think
they’d make a good pair?” Camille asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Ms. Mallory looked
confused. “Well I thought it would make Meghan feel more at home to know that she
wasn’t the only one with a special parent.”

Jules’ hands
tightened on the edge of his seat.

“Why don’t you tell
us about your plans to catch Meghan up with the rest of the class?” said
Camille brightly. Jules was clearly pissed off and not about to contribute to
this conference and Ms. Mallory seemed incapable of picking up on how poor of
an impression she was making. As usual, it was up to her to save the day.

Jules
was silent as they got into the car, but Camille knew he was just waiting for
the car doors to close before exploding. All things considered, she wished she
was the one driving.

“The nerve of that
woman,” he breathed heavily as he pulled out of the school parking lot. “We
have to change schools.”

Camille sighed.
“We’re not going to change schools,” she said. “Meghan just got to this school
and she’s doing well. You were just telling me yesterday how lucky we’d gotten
that she likes her new teacher.”

“That was before I
met her,” fumed Jules, accelerating to change lanes towards the expressway ramp.
His scowl deepened as Camille unconsciously braced herself against the turn.
“That woman has mutant-envy. It’s not healthy.”

“It’s better than
the alternative,” said Camille wearily, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t flinch
when he merged; he hated when she did that. “The fact is that a lot of people
are still prejudiced against mutants. Isn’t it better for Meghan to be in a
supportive environment?”

“We don’t know that
Meghan is a mutant,” said Jules, braking suddenly and cursing as a white van
sped by without letting him in.

Camille waited until
she felt the car matching highway speeds before she opened her eyes again. “We
don’t know that she’s not,” she finally said in a low voice. “But I am. Whether
or not she has to deal personally with the difficulties of being a mutant, she
will always have to deal with the fact that her mother is one.”

Jules shook his
head. “Look, I’m not saying it’s not difficult to be a mutant, but there is
another side to it - the fame, fortune, and glamour side. I don’t want Meghan
to get sucked into that, to feel less if she never develops superpowers.”

“Is that how you
feel?” Camille asked quietly.

Jules took a while
to answer. “I don’t feel less, necessarily, but sometimes I feel that I can’t
compete.”

“It’s not a competition.”

Jules shrugged.
“True - it shouldn’t be a competition. But it’s hard not to feel that way when
our daughter’s teacher describes you as the ‘special parent’ or when your
exploits make national headlines and the highlight of my career has been a
booking at the
Birchmere
!”

Camille turned to
look at her husband’s profile. “Are you envious of me, Jules Franklyn?” she
asked with a sad smile.

“Not per se,” he
said. “Envious implies that I want what you have. I couldn’t do what you do and
I wouldn’t want to. But I would like be given some respect for what I do, even
if it’s not saving the world.”

Camille closed her
eyes again. She hated these conversations. She never knew what to say because
there was no right thing to say; she never knew whether they were
representative of feelings Jules always had but seldom shared or if they were
one-off flare ups. Being a mutant was hard; being married to one was probably
more difficult than she generally recognized.

“I’m sorry you don’t
feel respected,” she finally said. “I hope that you know I respect you.”

“Usually,” he said
with surprising frankness, putting on the turn signal for their exit.

“Look,” she said,
feeling hopeless. “I’m really sorry that Meghan’s teacher acted like such a
groupie. I’m really sorry that I had to ask you to move back to West Pacific
after asking you to move to Chicago and then Minneapolis and then the Yukon. I
never wanted to drag you all over the place; it’s not fair and you deserve
better. I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s not the
moves,” he said without looking at her, though in all fairness, he did have to
watch the road. “I mean, the moves have not been ideal, but it’s more the
little things… ”

“The little things?”
repeated Camille.

“Yeah, like you
being late tonight,” Jules offered.

“Goddammit!” Camille
exploded. “I’ve already said I’m sorry about that! I couldn’t help it - you
know that! I had to save people, that’s what I do, Jules! I save people. I’m
sorry I was late but that’s just how it is sometimes. I’m not trying to blow
you off or disrespect you, it’s just… ”

“I thought you were
dead,” Jules interrupted quietly.

“What?”

“I thought you were
dead.” Jules blinkered to turn on their street.

Camille stared at
him, not knowing what to say, feeling like an idiot.
He wasn’t mad, he was terrified!
she thought with a sinking realization.

He
pulled the car into their driveway, turned off the ignition, and turned to look
at her. “I never know what’s happening to you, Camille. An hour late in your
job and, well - I fear the worst.” He looked pale, old, and on the verge of
tears.

She laid her hand
gingerly on her husband’s arm. “Jules, I’m sorry, I… ”

“I listened to the
radio but there wasn’t anything about you,” he continued, staring out the
windshield at their house; the light inside suggesting that Meghan and the
babysitter were probably eating dinner. “We don’t have the police scanner
hooked up yet and I left my HoloBerry at home. I didn’t know what was
happening.”

“You don’t have to
worry so much,” she said softly, wishing she could put her arms around him to
reassure him. “I’m quick and pretty darn hard to hurt. You know that.”

He shook his head.
“Remember
Les
Mis
?” he said.

She fell silent. How
could she possibly forget? It had been their anniversary and they had a
babysitter for the first time since moving to Chicago. Jules had made
reservations at a fancy Italian restaurant and she had scored front-row seats
for the revival of the famous musical. They were supposed to meet up at the
restaurant at seven; the show was at nine. She never came.

“I didn’t even start
to worry until quarter to eight,” he said, his voice distant, as if lost in the
memory. “You’re always running late. And even then, I was more worried that
we’d have to rush dinner or risk not being seated before intermission. When I
called, you didn’t answer, but you hardly ever answer, so that wasn’t a big
surprise. I just ordered another glass of wine and kept working on the lyrics -
I was writing
Autumn Day
then and I couldn’t get the second verse right…”

She took his hand in
hers and squeezed it.

“Around 8:15 I
started getting upset. I thought maybe you’d forgotten. I tried calling
Infinity HQ, but I couldn’t get through. That’s when I started to worry. And
then I heard the sirens and started to panic. I ran out and grabbed a cab to
head downtown, but the traffic was gridlocked. The cabbie was the one who told
me that there had been a
superbrawl
downtown - that’s
when I knew you were hurt. I didn’t get to the hospital until nearly midnight.
You’d already been through two surgeries…They didn’t know if you were going to
pull through… ”

Camille squeezed his
hand again, feeling close to tears herself. “I’m so sorry, Jules, I didn’t mean
to put you through that again - I didn’t think…”