Not Your Villain (Sidekick Squad #2)(44)
On a whim, he checks the notifications for his Barry Carmichael account. There haven’t been any new personal messages since “SURRENDER NOW AND YOU WILL BE DEALT WITH, CHAMELEON” from Captain Orion. She and the League must have taken his silence as a message. Bells has nothing from the League, but why would they message him? Bells groans again, and repeatedly mashes his face into his pillow. Finally he flips over and pokes through Barry’s messages, determined to find something interesting.
There are a bunch of automated messages from the forum he joined during Meta-Human Training. It’s unofficial, just something Sasha started as a way the kids can keep in touch after training is over. Most of the messages are dull: asking for advice on designing a superhero costume, name ideas, idle gossip. He scrolls through several weeks’ messages, deletes them as he goes, and finally catches up to the current discussion, about a party at Christine’s house in Vegas.
He likes Christine well enough; she’s funny, and has a great laugh. Maybe it’s time to hang out with some other friends.
Bells puts on crisp black jeans and a navy V-necked shirt, then looks at his face in the mirror. He can’t go as Barry Carmichael; he’s wanted all across the NAC.
Bells looks through the RSVPs. There. Ricky—Invisible Boy—isn’t going. Bells can definitely duplicate him: tall, skinny, with an upturned nose and messy brown hair.
He checks the city bus schedule. There’s a bus to Vegas in twenty minutes. Perfect.
Bells thought he’d seen rich, like the Robledos and other families that live in Andover Heights. But the homes in this Vegas neighborhood are massive, two-or-three story monstrosities with sweeping, manicured lawns.
He’s on the right street. It looks as though Christine lives at the top of this hill. The house can barely be called a house; it’s a gated estate, three stories high with several balconies, red Spanish tile roof, and orange adobe walls. Aside from a bed of flowers right outside the door, the lawn is tastefully decorated with a stone walkway curving around agave plants, yucca, barrel cactuses, and a few creosote bushes.
Bells types in the keycode that Christine gave the forum, and the gate creaks open. He can hear the splash of water and music and laughing.
Follow the path through the gate to your right. Party’s out back! Floating letters and dancing emojis are projected along the wall next to the path.
He opens the second gate and sees a sparkling pool surrounded by immaculately decorated greenery and colorful tiles. Bells recognizes other teens from Meta-Human Training, and figures everyone else must be their friends or trainees from other sessions. Tanya and Sasha laugh and lounge on floating donuts. An impromptu splash fight breaks out, and Bells blinks at the sight of so much water, just for recreation, in the middle of the desert. It’s a lot to take in: music, laughter, and a ridiculous spread on a buffet table by the side of the pool.
Bells lingers on the edge of the pool and considers dipping his feet in the water. Everyone seems wrapped up in their own conversations: the kids in the pool, the ones over by the grill. Maybe this was a bad idea; he doesn’t really belong here, after all.
“Ricky! I thought you couldn’t make it,” says a voice next to him.
Bells startles before he realizes she’s talking to him.
Christine is wearing a beaded blue corset and a wide, poufy linen skirt; the skirt is practically transparent and shows off the wired crinoline underneath and her multiple petticoats. The outfit is a bit strange, but the overall effect is quite lovely. Christine has her blonde hair piled up on her head; a few artful curls drop onto her face. She looks like a painting; Bells thinks of the old West, of stories of the frontier. She must be really getting into her hero name; she’s the only one dressed up.
“Hey,” Bells says carefully; now he remembers Christine and Ricky were seeing each other at the beginning of the summer session and broke up in a huge fight. Maybe this disguise wasn’t a good idea after all. But they were on speaking terms at the end of the summer, right?
Bells cringes, trying to remember. There really wasn’t anyone else he could have impersonated. “Change of plans, thought I’d come by after all.” He tries to clip his words, the way Ricky talks.
“It’s okay.” Christine twirls a curl around her finger and sits next to him. She dangles her bare feet in the pool, swishes them playfully, gives Bells a thoughtful look, and then laughs, light and bubbly, barely a care in the world.
“Great party.”
“Wanna get in?” Something about her smile is slow and calculating. Does Ricky swim? Is this a test? Did they reconcile after the summer session?
“Didn’t bring any spare clothes.”
Christine winks at him. “Not a problem. But if you’re shy, I’ve got spare trunks. Or I can turn those jeans into trunks if you like.” She wiggles her fingers.
“You don’t have to waste your energy on me.” He’s pretty sure that would eat up half of Christine’s power for the day.
“Aw, so thoughtful.”
She stands up gracefully, skirts swishing.
Bells looks around; Ricky was popular at training. Should I try to be more gregarious? But maybe someone will figure out I'm not who I say I am if I talk.
No one else approaches him; playing it cool and aloof by the pool is working.
There’s a full array of food on the tables. A kid whose actual name Bells doesn’t remember—Slingshot is his codename, or was it Buckshot?—is working the grill. Bells gets a plate.