The Dysasters (The Dysasters #1)(76)

“But it happened anyway, and I feel like I’m pretty shitty at keeping us safe.”

“Are you kidding? You’re great at keeping us safe! You figured out how to use music to calm our element. You figured out how to stop me from fading away, and you figured out how to float us down from, like, twenty feet or more in the air. Foster, I would’ve smacked into the ground or faded away into nothingness without you. You told me once that you thought I was a superhero. You were wrong, Foster. You’re the superhero. I’m just your handsome sidekick.”

She almost smiled at that. “I thought the sidekicks were super weird or extremely dorky, not handsome. I mean, think about it—Rocket, a raccoon, is Peter Quill’s sidekick. Super weird. Robin is Batman’s sidekick, and he wears his underwear on the outside of his pants. Major dork. And—”

“We’re a new kind of superhero, so I’m making up new rules,” he interrupted. “But you’re talking to me again, which makes everything okay. So if you want to call me your dorky, weird sidekick, I’m cool with it.”

Foster’s almost smile went away. “But everything isn’t okay. I keep hearing him yelling your name. He sounded so upset—so scared. I’m sorry they have your grandpa.”

“I know. Me too. But we’re superheroes. We’re going to rescue him.”

“How?” she said miserably.

“By sticking to your brilliant plan,” he said.

“By my brilliant plan you mean the one Sabine mostly thought of?”

“Yep, that one.”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want you to go in there by yourself.”

“I won’t be. You’ll be there, too. Close by. Waiting for an opening,” Tate said. “Plus, Sabine and Finn and you all agreed that it’s perfect to say you and I have been living on the streets in Portland.”

“There are a lot of homeless people in Portland,” Foster agreed reluctantly. “It’d be real hard for the Fucktastic Four to prove that we were, or weren’t, there.”

“Exactly. I give myself up to them in exchange for letting G-pa go free. I’m going to tell them that you took off—saying something about heading down the coast and crossing over into Mexico with the stash of cash Cora left you.”

“Be sure you tell them that you and I are supposed to meet up in Mexico after you get G-pa free,” Foster said.

“Yeah, so they’ll be searching everywhere but the Portland area,” Foster said.

“Which is exactly where G-pa is going to head once he’s free,” Tate said.

“And you. You’re going with him, Tate. Promise me,” Foster said urgently.

“Hey, don’t worry. Of course I’m going, too. I’m going to pretend to be the perfect kidnap victim. When you look up Stockholm syndrome, my face is going to be the definition.”

“Don’t let them take you to their island. I can’t believe they’re driving all over the U.S., not with the kind of money Stewart soaked up from his patrons. They have to be flying, which is great for us. You’ll be safe in the airport. As soon as you get there tell airport security you heard them talking about a bomb. That should do it.”

“Then I’ll take off and call your burner and you’ll know I’m on my way back to our Fortress of Sauvietude,” Tate said.

“Or get away before they do something like drug you so that you can’t tell on them at the airport. That’s even safer,” Foster said.

“Foster, that would be fine, but there’s one more little thing. Well, actually, two more little things.”

“Those water kids.” Foster looked like she’d bitten a lemon.

“Hey, don’t be like that. Right now those two are just like we used to be—clueless and getting ready to have their worlds torn apart on their birthdays, which are tomorrow. When we land.”

“Tate, save your grandpa. Let the water kids worry about themselves. We figured it out. So will they.”

“We figured it out after we lost our parents and got a lot of help from Cora’s Batcave. Not to mention Finn and Sabine. We need to help them, Foster. You know that.”

Foster deflated. “Yeah, I do. I’m just scared it’s going to be them or us.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means either we hang around and save them, or we grab your grandpa, retreat to Sauvie, and save ourselves,” Foster said.

“It’s not going to be like that. Foster, think about this—they’re bonded to water.”

“Uh, yeah. I know.”

He shook his head. “You’re not thinking. We join with them and the four of us are stronger together than the two of us alone. With them we have air and water!”

“If they really are bonded to water, and if they really will join with us.”

“You’re a cynic,” Tate said.

“I am a realist,” Foster countered. Then she yawned.

Tate dug into the flap in the seat in front of him and pulled out a plastic-wrapped pillow. He made a grand show of fluffing it, then he reached across Foster and pressed the button to recline first her seat, then his. He placed the pillow on his shoulder, patted it, and smiled invitingly at her.

“How about you sleep for the next four hours?”