Teddy texted a dozen more times and tried calling; she ignored him. She didn’t want to see Teddy, or even Teia, though Teia would be interested to hear about her conversation with Paulson. The cops really were babysitting them.
Her power meant that even though she could tell Teddy was ranging the halls looking for her, she could stay out of his way. Teia and the others were parked at their usual spot on the front stairs, and Anna decided to share her discovery.
“You were right,” Anna said. “The cops are keeping an eye on us.”
Teia didn’t look at all surprised. “How? How did they know where to find us?”
“My mother knows everything. My dad probably told her. I don’t know exactly how, but she’s a crazy control freak and she couldn’t let this alone.”
“Then why? I mean, why not just arrest us? And how did they know where to find us? You don’t think your mom told my mom, did she?”
Anna’s frustration got the better of her. “I’m sure she did. It’s obvious, it’s like training wheels, they think we’re too young and stupid to do this on our own, and they’re probably right. We’re not real superheroes, we never were, this is all just some kids’ game in the park.”
Teia was a wall, no reaction except a twist of her lips. Anna wasn’t even sure the other girl heard her.
“Does that mean you’re quitting?” Teia asked finally. Like this was a game, like there could even be a winner.
“There’s nothing to quit!” Anna said. “I never did anything!”
She wanted Teia to admit she was right, but Teia would never do that. She just glared, another person feeling sorry for Anna.
Then Teddy was coming out the front door, and Anna stomped around the corner and to a side entrance so she wouldn’t have to look at him. So much for prom. So much for everything.
FIFTEEN
CELIA read the screaming headline on the Rooftop Watch website: “Five-Hero Smashup in Hell’s Alley!” with a subheader: “Trinity and Espionage Team Up?” The only picture the site had been able to get showed the aftermath, a soaking-wet street and a smashed SUV, reminiscent of the old days when Typhoon patrolled regularly. An “unnamed police source” revealed details, naming who’d been involved in stopping the high-speed car chase. Whether by chance or design, all of Commerce City’s newest heroes had come together, then scattered before police could stop them for questioning, or before any reporters could get pictures or interviews. All in all, a classic superhuman outing.
Mark called as she finished reading all the articles she could find on the incident. “Have you checked the news yet or do I get to be the one to tell you?” he said.
“Just reading it now. Pretty spectacular. What really happened?”
“Pretty much exactly as you read it.” He paused, and his tone changed, the overworked cop giving way to chagrined friend. “I sort of pretended to arrest Anna.”
Celia raised a brow and was grateful Mark couldn’t see her expression. “Oh?”
“I just wanted to talk to one of them. Show them that this isn’t a game, that they shouldn’t be screwing around.”
Oh, poor Anna, she must have been twisted up in knots. When he said “pretended,” how far did he get? Handcuffs? Driving her to the station? Celia had seen the girls briefly at breakfast, and she hadn’t noticed Anna being any more surly or upset than usual. The kid was burying it all down deep.
“Did it work?” Celia asked carefully, in lieu of yelling at Mark for scaring her daughter.
“Well, she’s onto us. She knows you know who they are and that you’re keeping track of them.”
Power or no, Anna was good at putting pieces together. Smart kid, and Celia was proud. “Mark—thank you. For looking out for her. For all of us.”
“It’s like you’ve always told me, we superhumans have to stick together. Take care, Celia. You sound tired.”
If all she did was look and sound tired, she was doing well, because she felt terrible.
Another week and another treatment passed. It was harder than Celia thought it would be. Mostly because she’d been so sure she could get through it without much trouble with sheer willpower, and that wasn’t how it ended up going. After the second treatment she threw up everything she’d eaten that day and slept for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to eat. She couldn’t focus to read. She dreaded the next treatment. And the next, and the next …
Claiming a sudden cold or flu would work only a couple of times without raising more suspicions—or proving the very reality she was trying to deny, that she was very ill. During just the second round, other people than Mark tsked her sympathetically over the phone and asked if this was maybe serious and should she see a doctor. That’s what got me into this, she wanted to mutter at them.
She needed more time, just another week or so, before she came clean.
She planned a “business trip” that would allow her to vanish for a few days. She arranged fake itineraries and ticket stubs, just in case someone, namely Majors, checked. Meanwhile, she could hide, be sick, recover, and no one would know.
“And how many weeks is this going to go on?” Arthur questioned, looking over her fake itinerary. Celia decided she could recycle the itinerary several times over, “traveling” as part of an ongoing project that would fall through at the last minute. She could account for six weeks doing this, almost the whole round of chemotherapy. She began to entertain a hope that she wouldn’t have to tell anyone at all, get cured and let it all fall behind her. A silly dream. She was only making things worse.
“Just a few,” she told him, without confidence.
When she started leaving chunks of hair on her pillow, she shaved her head entirely and took to wearing the custom wig she’d had specially made to match her own hair. She penciled in her vanishing eyebrows.
“I’m worried about you,” Arthur said. And she could feel it. The emotion was strong enough to slip past his barriers.
“I know. You’re very tolerant.”
“You’re lying to the people who love you most.”
“It’s temporary. Just till the lawsuit gets cleared up.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even seem to be thinking anything. He stood at the window of her sickroom, her temporary prison, gazing out to a constrained version of the panorama available in the living room. The view here offered a mere slice of the city, not half of it, like the other one did.
“Next week,” she insisted. “The preliminary hearing on the lawsuit will happen, we’ll get it dismissed, the planning committee will finally vote, and then I’ll be able to take off as much time as I need. I’ll tell everyone then.”
“And explain to them why you’ve been lying to them for the last month?”
He made it sound terrible. Because it was terrible. “Yes,” she said.
“We’ll have this conversation again next week,” he said.
She nodded. She’d be ready, one way or another.
Celia had contrived to bring the young would-be superheroes together. Now the problem was: Where to point them? Preferably someplace that wasn’t in the middle of a car chase and wreck, and that wasn’t breaking and entering. Something quiet, involving surveillance and reporting. She had an idea about that.
On the plus side, Celia had direct access to so-called Espionage. On the downside, she had to feed Anna the appropriate information without looking like she was doing it on purpose, or Anna would never take the bait. She left her office because she was feeling lonely and restless and wanted to be close to her mother, to be in the presence of the old comforting sounds of cooking and conversation, and to meet the girls when they came home, before she locked herself away on her so-called business trip. That was the excuse, a side benefit of the plan.