Sidekicks Read online

  “Wait—”

  “No. No time for waiting. Catch me and win a prize.” She smiles at me, then grabs onto the fire escape overhead and hoists herself up. She scales the metal bars and, in the blink of an eye, she’s standing on the roof. She looks down on me, her expression full of joy and mischief. “Come on! Don’t keep a girl waiting!”

  I smile at her, then leap, grabbing onto the fire escape more than half of the way up. She takes off as I’m climbing to the roof. I hit the roof and give chase.

  She sprints toward the edge and leaps without hesitating, easily crossing the thirty feet between buildings. I do the same. I can hear her laughter in front of me, echoing through the streets. She leaps for the next roof, but this time she spreads her arms wide, as if she’s going to start gliding around the city … but then she tucks her legs under her and does a front somersault. She lands on the roof of the next building, sprinting without breaking stride.

  I run and watch her leap gracefully over chimneys, flip effortlessly over air conditioners, fly across the blank space between buildings, and I wonder if this is what regular people feel when they watch us: the feeling that nothing else in this world could possibly move and fly and leap and laugh so effortlessly. I want to watch her fly across rooftops forever.

  She looks back at me. I can see the gleam of neon and streetlights reflected in her eyes. “Hey, slowpoke!”

  I laugh. I still have a couple of gears left, so I slip into one and gain some ground on her. She turns around and I’m almost on top of her. “HEY!” She tries to speed up. But she’s too late. I put my hand on her shoulder. She grabs it, and, using her forward momentum, flips me over. A split second after she releases me, I’m already adjusting midair. I land on my feet, ready to go.

  “Ooooo,” she says. “Bright Boy wants to play?”

  I nod.

  “Too cool to speak,” she laughs. “Looks like I’ve created a monster.”

  “You going to talk, or are you going to fight?”

  She smiles at me, then follows it up with a roundhouse kick to my head. I drop forward onto my stomach to avoid the kick, then try to sweep her leg. She does an evasive little hop, then falls on top of me. I’m no longer sure I want to continue the fight. I have a moment where I wonder if she’s starting to think the same thing. Then she whispers in my ear, “We’re still fighting.” With that, she puts both hands under my chin and pulls my head back. I push myself up into a standing position, so that she’s now riding me piggyback style. I run backward, knowing that there’s a chimney behind me at ten paces. Apparently, she knows it, too, because just before impact, she climbs onto my shoulders and does a front flip off of me. I slam my butt into the chimney, chipping away some of the brick.

  “That looked like it hurt,” she says.

  “It tickled.” I lunge at her with a right hook, but it’s only a feint, used to set up a scissor kick. She manages to grab my foot midair, but I use my other foot to knock her hand off.

  It’s like we’re dancing across rooftops, perfectly in sync with each other … laughing through the punches and the kicks and the blocks and the counters.

  She kicks me off the roof of one building, but FP-769 is right there. I flip off it and land on the top of a parked cargo truck. She comes flying in after me and I somehow manage to catch her in a bear hug. I clasp my hands together and keep her off the ground so that she can’t get any leverage. She tries to struggle free, so I start tickling her.

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-stop-it-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  “I caught you! Say uncle! Say uncle!”

  “Uncle! Aunt! Freakin’ cousins, just stop tickling MEEEE!!”

  I stop tickling and put her down, but I don’t let go. She stops struggling, stops moving. She looks up at me. “You said something about a prize?” I say.

  She puts her hand behind my head, pulls me in, and kisses me. Her lips are salty. I smell cinnamon and flowers. I can hear my heartbeat in my temples. Then I realize that it isn’t my heartbeat. We stop kissing, then peer over the side of the truck. About seventy-five people are standing there applauding. At least ten of them are filming us with their phones.

  We start laughing. Allison waves and blows kisses.

  “We’re dead,” I say, but I’m still laughing. I can’t help it.

  “No, we’re not. Not yet, at least,” she says. She blows another kiss to the crowd, which is now cheering. She looks at me. She kisses her fingers, then places those fingers gently on my lips. I hold her hand there for a second, and then it’s gone. She’s backflipped onto the roof of a passing truck. “See you in school tomorrow!” she calls out. I watch her until she’s out of sight.

  “Hey!” some guy on the ground calls up to me. “Hey!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who are you?”

  I smile. “I’m Bright Boy.” I leap off the truck and disappear into the night.

  I can hear Louis calling my name, but I’m not ready to answer him. I’m too busy playing over the movie my brain made of last night: the leaping across rooftops, the fighting, the kiss … On command, my stomach does a flop.

  “Trying to move the carton of the orange juice with your mind?” Louis asks. He slides the plate of freshly made pancakes in front of me. They’re so perfect they look fake, like they were made out of plastic for a pancake ad. Louis takes his pancakes seriously.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Lost in thought there for a second.”

  “Yeah, I got that. Syrup or honey?”

  “Honey, please.”

  He pulls the honey out of the cabinet and slides it across the counter to me. “So … where were you yesterday?”

  My eyes go wide for a split second. I try to go back to being nonchalant, but I know it’s no use. Louis saw. He always sees. If he wasn’t our caretaker, I think he’d be a detective of some sort, one who secretly makes the world’s most perfect pancakes.

  “Do you want time to think of a lie,” he asks, “or do you wanna try your luck?”

  “I was out.”

  “I know you were out, that’s why I asked where you were.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So?”

  “I was walking around the city. I figure I spend so much time flipping off of rooftops, I might as well check it out from the sidewalk, you know?”

  “So … you went walking … around the city … by yourself.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  Louis laughs. I smile and shake my head. Getting anything past Louis is an impossibility. “What’s her name?”

  “I don’t … It’s … I’m not even sure she … uh …”

  “Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself,” he says. “I just hope to God that my life never depends on you keeping a secret.”

  Yeah, that one hits a little too close to home. “Come on,” I say, dropping my fork and grabbing my backpack. “I don’t want to be late.”

  Louis raises an eyebrow. “Well, well, well … look who’s suddenly anxious to get to school.”

  One of the great things about Louis is his ability to know when I want to be left alone. The drive to school is quiet. I try not to get my hopes up. Yesterday was yesterday. Allison and I had a great time. OK, an AMAZING time. And really, all I can think about is the next time I get to spend all day with her … but we are enemies. MAJOR enemies, in a constant battle that will never end until one of us is dead or in jail. Plus, she may not even really like me. I’m just going to assume that she regrets what happened last night and go from there. Let her make the first move.

  When we pull up to the school, I notice right away that something is different. Louis doesn’t seem to notice, but then why would he? He has no idea what goes on at my school.

  “Good luck, kid,” he says, and gives me a smile like he’s amused and delighted and wants to be supportive. It may be the best smile I’ve ever seen from him.

  “Thanks.” I get out and close the door. Louis gives me a little wave as he drives off. I can feel the energy of my classmates
on my back; I turn to face it. They’re all buzzing around the front steps, giddy and chatty and barely under control. Something tells me it’s about Bright Boy.

  “Did you see it?” one girl squeals to her friends, and instantly my heart sinks.

  Oh my God, my fly was open. Had to be. I go to all the trouble of getting a new outfit, and then I do something stupid like forget to zip up, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life being called a freak and a perv—

  “Oh. MY. GOD! THEY ARE SO AWESOME!” another girl screeches.

  OK, now I have no idea what they’re talking about.

  “He is SOOO hot! Can you believe it?”

  “I KNOW! I swear, I had no idea it was him, and then he looked at that one guy and was like, ‘I’m Bright Boy.’” She then makes a sound that I had never heard a girl make before. I swear it’s part feline.

  Another girl joins their conversation. “And that’s Monkeywrench!”

  “I KNOOOW!” the two other girls yell in unison.

  “But they’re enemies!”

  “She’s a villain!”

  “I KNOW!” The two girls look at the phone of the third. The sound of the video she’s playing attracts ten more kids who happen to be passing at the moment, like a magnet pulling in iron filings. I blend into this crowd and try to get a look at the video.

  It’s shaky, but clear. There I am … there’s Allison. We’re flipping and fighting, and it all comes rushing back to me. My face tingles; my heart speeds up. I can feel the energy as more kids filter over, until the video Allison and the video me kiss, and the crowd cheers, not just in the video, but the kids around me right now, watching.

  “Monkeywrench is a girl?” someone shouts.

  “You bet she is,” I almost say, but decide to keep it to myself.

  One of our teachers, Ms. Stanfield, comes to the front door. “I hate to interrupt this community gathering, but it would be nice if we could give your parents their money’s worth today. Let’s go. Inside. Start gathering into your groups.”

  Everyone starts filtering in through the doors. The girl with the video on her phone is right in front of me. When she passes, Ms. Stanfield whispers to her, “Is that from last night?”

  The girl nods, not sure if she’s about to get in trouble for it.

  “Which one is it?” Ms. Stanfield asks.

  The girl’s eyes light up. “Evan Rodriguez’s.”

  “I haven’t seen that one yet!” And now Ms. Stanfield is practically squealing. “Oh my God, when do you have some free time?”

  “Third period.”

  “Perfect! I’ll be in my room. Come find me.” The girl and teacher nod excitedly at each other.

  What is going on?

  Something grabs me and pulls me into darkness. I’m in the same closet as before, and once again, I’m looking at Allison. My breath catches. She looks beautiful.

  “What is going on around here?” I ask. “And you really have a thing for this closet, huh?”

  “Pretty wild, right?” she says. Her cheeks are flush with color. “Not the closet … the whole video thing. Looks like we’re a hit.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Uh … yeah! All the kids are talking about it … even the boys. And boys don’t usually go for that stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “You know … the mushy stuff,” she says, and looks down at her shoes.

  I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “Uhh … do you … uh”—I don’t want to say it, but I force myself to—“regret … it?”

  “What? The kiss? Yes. I woke up this morning and thought to myself, Oh my God, I can’t believe I kissed that loser!”

  “Oh.”

  She steps in close to me, reaches up, and pulls my head close to hers. “And I can’t believe I’m about to do it again.” She kisses me. Her lips are soft and taste like peppermint today. “What is wrong with me?” She whispers as we stop. She’s staring into my eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip and smiles, and every nerve ending in my body goes electric.

  “What are we doing?” I whisper back.

  “You mean you don’t know? I knew you were innocent, but I thought you’d at least know what making out is.”

  “Not that. I mean, that, but not like that … you know … we’re enemies! We’re going to have to fight each other! Probably tonight!”

  “So?”

  “SO?! I don’t want to fight you anymore.”

  She smiles. “Why not? We fought last night and it turned out OK.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. A million things are going through my mind. I think of my duty to the city, my commitment to Phantom Justice … and what I’m feeling for this girl in front of me right now, and all I want to do is leave all that hero/villain stuff behind.

  “Listen,” she says, “I know all the reasons why this can’t possibly work are running through your head right now, but stop. You like me … I think …”

  I nod until my head almost falls off. “Do you?”

  She laughs. “Yes, I like you, too.”

  I smile, relieved.

  “So let’s just keep it simple. You like me; I like you. My God, we’re like Romeo and Juliet! With superpowers!”

  “Allison, they die in the end.”

  “Yeah, because they didn’t have secret identities. Or superstrength. Look, we’ll figure this out, OK? In the meantime.” She kisses me quickly on the lips, then punches me hard in the arm.

  “OW! What the—?!”

  “Tag. You’re it.” And with that, she slips out the door. I open the door a split second later, but she’s already gone. Oh, this is not over.

  Two classes later, in English, I get up to go to the bathroom, and even though Ms. Stanfield is looking right at me, I punch Allison in the arm as I pass by her. The punch is so fast that no one sees it. Allison rubs her arm and looks at me, amused, annoyed, and impressed. She scrunches her face up in a “Oh, you’re in for it, mister” expression. I wink at her before slipping out the door.

  While I’m standing in line at lunch, Allison slips in and nails me. My hamburger almost hits the kid in front of me. I grin all the way through lunch. The kids at my table look at me like I’m an idiot, but as per usual, no one says anything.

  I get Allison again with the “heading off to the bathroom” trick in math class, but this time she’s ready for me, and as soon as I tag her, she tags me right back. The teacher walks over to the window and looks out at the clear blue sky.

  “Huh,” she says. “Thought I heard thunder.”

  Meanwhile, all anyone can talk about, kids and teachers alike, is what is going on between Bright Boy and Monkeywrench? When did he change costumes? When did she become a she? When did they start chasing each other around the city, kissing? Yesterday, yesterday, and yesterday, I mentally answer. For the first time in years, I feel good about both of my selves. I feel like I have a secret worth having again, and oddly enough, it makes it easier to keep.

  I head to seventh-period. Allison sits a couple of seats over from me. Her friends, Olivia and Charlene, come in, but Allison isn’t with them. So … if she’s been called out of school, then that means—

  “Will Scott Hutchinson please report to the office? Scott Hutchinson.”

  I’m already halfway down the hall by the second “Scott Hutchinson.” I’m excited, giddy, anxious to see—

  “Hello, sissy boy.”

  Standing in front of me, blocking my path, are Jake and his three meathead friends.

  “Shouldn’t you guys be in class?” I ask.

  The question seems to baffle them.

  “Are you talking to us?” Jake asks. “You’re not allowed to talk to us, sissy boy. You hear me?” His friends laugh.

  I don’t have time for this. I look around the hallway. Except for them and me, the place is deserted. A strange calm comes over me. “I’ll talk to whoever I want, including you and your idiot friends. Got it, Jake?” Jake’s mouth swings open like a trapdoo
r. “Oh, and call me sissy boy one more time, and you and your buddies will be waking up an hour from now, right here, wondering what just happened. Capisce?”

  For a second, I see something like worry pass over Jake’s face, but then it’s gone. He steps forward and puts his face a half inch from mine. His breath is unexpectedly minty. “Sissy. Boy.”

  I smile, crack my neck left, then right. Before Jake can even think to react, I hit him with an open left hand. I pull my slap at the last second, so as not to give him any permanent damage. He goes flying across the hall. His friends only have a moment to watch before I’m on them. I sweep Jimmy Douglas’s legs out from under him. Then I grab the front of Shane McConaughey’s shirt and pull him toward me, swirl him through a modified jiujitsu move, then send him sprawling on top of Jake. Andrew Buckley just stands there with his eyes wide, his mouth open, and his hands up. “Boo,” I say, and flick my hand open; he sprints away down the hall.

  “See you boys later,” I say, then head to the office. For some reason, I start whistling.

  As I expect, Louis is there, looking somber. As he tells the secretary the story of some dying aunt, I sigh impatiently.

  “OK,” I say after he wraps it up. “So are we going?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Right away.”

  “Uh-huh,” says the secretary behind the desk, who doesn’t seem to be listening to any of this. “Make sure you sign out please.”

  “Yeah, you bet,” Louis says. He signs the sheet of paper on the clipboard, and we’re on our way.

  Louis is not looking at me as we walk. He’s keeping a pace that, for someone with no abilities, is a little fast.

  “Something big happen?” I ask.

  He doesn’t say anything until we’re outside the school.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks without breaking pace.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In that office. I’m talking about your dying aunt, and you act like you couldn’t care less.”

  “She wasn’t even listening.”

  “That’s not the point! This is about keeping your cover. What if she was listening?”

  “Come on, Louis,” I say. “Kids get pulled out of class all the time. Plus, I’ve been down to that office a dozen times since school started. It’s a wonder I have any ‘relatives’ left to kill off. If you were worried about being conspicuous, you might want to either drop the ‘dying relative’ stories or think about homeschooling.”