Sidekicks Page 19

  “I know,” Allison says, and smiles at me. “It’s very sweet.”

  “Sweet is going to get you both killed,” Jake says.

  “Nonsense,” Allison says. “Scott’s already faster than him.”

  “I am?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah. We think you’re going to be even stronger.”

  “Eventually,” Jake yells, “but he’s not there yet!”

  “Please stop yelling,” Louis chimes in. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “Look,” Allison says, “Trent would’ve figured this whole thing out eventually, anyway. Right?”

  No answer.

  “Then don’t we stand a better chance against him if we’re all together?” she asks. “That is, if Scott still wants to be near us.” She looks at me, hopeful but wary. “Near me.”

  She wants me to say I do … but I just can’t. I’m still reeling. “I … it’s too much,” I say. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  She looks disappointed, and that hurts … but I barely know what’s going on, let alone how I feel about it.

  “I understand,” she says.

  “I have to think about it.”

  “OK.”

  “And please … all of you … get out of my head.”

  “OK,” Jake says.

  “All right, kid,” Louis says.

  “Me, too?” Allison says.

  “Especially you,” I say.

  She’s crying now. “I’m sorry, Scott. I’m not sure you’ll ever know how much.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I guess that’s another ding against the nonintelligence in the crowd. I’ll never know you that well.”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “So what did you mean?” I yell, because confused or not, I’m angry. “You don’t want a little something like lying about your death to get in the way of us trusting each other?”

  “Does it have to?” she asks sheepishly.

  “It crushed me,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  “I know.”

  “Yeah, and that kind of makes it worse. You knew what it would do to me, and you did it anyway.” I walk to the edge of the building. “I need some time.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” she says.

  “Don’t. I don’t know how long it’s going to take.”

  Tears are streaming down her cheeks. “Take forever. I’ll be waiting.”

  I give her a solemn nod, then dive off the building. I swing off the fire escape and land silently on one of the window ledges. I stand there, count to “ten Mississippi,” then quietly climb back up onto the roof, about a foot from where I dove off. Allison’s back is turned to me. I can see her shoulders shaking as she cries.

  “OK,” I say.

  She jumps, startled. She turns around.

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  “What do you think?” she asks, between sobs.

  “I think this sounds kinda dangerous,” I say, “and I don’t like to do anything too crazy, you know. I’m a pretty levelheaded guy.”

  I smile at her. She laughs and sprints over to me; I catch her and hold her as tightly as I can without breaking anything.

  She looks at me. “You sure you’re OK with this?”

  “No,” I say, “but I don’t want to waste any more time trying to make sense of it. One way or another, it’ll work itself out. Right, Louis?”

  “Well said, kid.”

  “Just please,” I say quietly, leaning close to Allison’s ear, “please don’t do that to me again. I can’t—”

  “I know. I won’t.”

  “Promise.”

  She puts her hands on the sides of my face and pulls me in and kisses me.

  “Will that do?” she asks.

  “You know, I’m not sure it will,” I say. “I mean that was a pretty traumatic experience. It’s going to take something a little more than—”

  She grabs me, dips me, plants one on my lips, and holds it.

  “Ugh,” Jake says. “I’m out.”

  “You weren’t even supposed to be here still,” I think.

  “All right … I’m out, too,” Louis says. “Hey, Allison, just be home on time, OK?”

  Allison puts one of her thumbs up, but keeps kissing me.

  “Atta girl. Hey, kid, don’t tire her out too much, got it?”

  “It’s not him you should worry about,” Allison says. Then she throws me off the roof.

  “Untraditional way to show affection,” I say as I plummet toward the ground.

  “That’s what you love about me, though, right?” she says, suddenly beside me.

  “Who said anything about love?”

  “I did.” She grabs me, then puts her arm up just in time to grab the fire escape. We swing around, then flip up toward the roof of the next building.

  “Which one was that?” she asks as we land.

  “We never labeled fire escapes,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “No. Of course, we did. That was FE-212. I just didn’t want you to start thinking I was a dork.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” she says, laughing. “I’ve always thought you were a dork.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Which brings me to my next topic,” I say. “If we’re going to make a go of this, I think we need some new names. I don’t think I want to be Bright Boy anymore.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Woof. Plus the words Monkey-wrench and Bright Boy wouldn’t fit on the merchandise.”

  “Merchandise?” I ask. “And why does your name get to go first?”

  “Ooh! I’ve got it!” she says, pretending like she didn’t hear me. “How about The Viper?”

  “I like it. Who are you going to be?”

  “The Viper.”

  “Well, then who am I going to be?”

  “The Viper’s assistant?”

  Suddenly, the sound of a man screaming for help echoes in the distance.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” she says. She takes my hands in hers, then leans in and kisses me. “Now I’m ready.”

  “Then let’s go get ’em.”

  She leaps off the roof. I follow her.

  To Stephen Barbara, who has listened with patience and good humor to my ridiculous ideas and has talked me off many a ledge. DYJ, Stephen, DYJ.

  To Susan Van Metre, who responded to my psychic message about wanting to write this book and then provided me with unerring guidance and support. You make the impossible possible, Van Metre! Hee-yah!!!

  To Chad W. Beckerman and Joshua Middleton for their patience and for an amazing cover.

  To Jason Wells and Laura Mihalick for their endless enthusiasm and tireless efforts.

  To Jason Dravis for helping me put some stuff in perspective.

  To Trexler, Jody, Davio, Danielle, Emily, Chris, Jef, Jess, John, Aya, Grant, Steve, Justin, Pops, Amanda, and Patrick for their patience and feedback.

  To Melissa and Peter, Steve and Sarah, Will and Sara, Joe, Bill, John and Melannie, Lisa (Chica!), Joe and Anita, Chris K., Ryan R., Patti and John, Mike and Dannah, Brad, Paul, and Dorria for their support … and for checking in every once in a while to make sure that I was still alive.

  To Nonnie, Auntie, Aunt Santella, Uncle Vinny and Linda, Maria and Rob, Will, Jeffrey, Frances, Bachan, Garret and Kerry, Uncle Denny and Donna, Katie, David, Lauren, Ryan, Bobby and Renee, Kristine and Todd, Vincent, Dave and Karina, Jackie, Kim, and the rest of my family for their love and support.

  To Laura for always making comics cool. Grab some paper and a stapler and let’s make some Wonder Woman boots! To Mom and Dad for their love and faith … also for that sweeeet Batcave when I was seven, and for never throwing out any of my old comics.

  To Emily and Matthew for being amazing … and for unintentionally giving me some great ideas for fight scenes.

  And finally, to my wife, Teryse, for everything you do to make this possible. Love ya, T.

  grew up in southern Conne
cticut and currently lives in northern Massachusetts with his wife, Teryse; daughter, Emily; and son, Matthew. He has been writing and editing for television animation for more than a decade. He developed, and writes for, WordGirl on PBS, for which he received an Emmy. The New York Times called his first novel, The Big Splash, “entertaining and thrilling” and Publishers Weekly called it “ingenious junior high noir.” Find out more about Jack D. Ferraiolo at www.jackferraiolo.com.

  and designed by Chad W. Beckerman. The text is set in 12-point Adobe Garamond, a typeface based on those created in the sixteenth century by Claude Garamond. Garamond modeled his typefaces on ones created by Venetian printers at the end of the fifteenth century. The modern version used in this book was designed by Robert Slimbach, who studied Garamond’s historic typefaces at the Plantin-Moretus Museum in Antwerp, Belgium.