“No,” I shout, blocking the path. “This is mine. I’ll handle the inventory.”
They look at each other and shrug before moving on to the next cabinet. Mom may be okay with other people touching her research, but mine is off limits.
I make a quick sign that reads KENNA’S STUFF DON’T TOUCH in big red letters, and then draw a giant skull and crossbones on it before taping it to the door. With the kind of chemicals around here, the Cleaners should take the warning seriously.
“Excuse me,” a woman says.
She points at the floor beneath my stool where an ooze of green liquid is seeping out in an ever-growing circle. It looks like Mom’s Dissolve All—an acid formula that will liquefy any nonorganic material, so it’s safe to touch but incredibly difficult to contain. My stool starts sinking as the acid melts the legs.
I move away and let the woman do her job. I watch as she uses her hands to sweep the goo into a special organic container. Gross.
“Ooof.” Someone knocks into me, sending me stumbling.
“Sorry,” the guy says without taking his gaze off the ceiling.
I need to grab my stuff and get out of here. I’m in the way, and if I’m not careful, I’ll get hurt. Or worse, not hurt—as in my immunity will show, and then where will I be? Grounded for life, that’s where.
Avoiding situations that might reveal my immunity is an art.
On my way out, I collide with another person. God, could I be more useless? I start to apologize, then realize I’ve crashed into Riley. Damn.
He clutches his smartphone to his chest. “Kenna. Hi, hello.”
“Hey, Riley,” I answer.
“Terrible business here tonight,” he says, gesturing at the lab around us. “And you? Having to face down villains, um, face-to-face. That must have been awful.”
And without a single power to help you. He doesn’t have to say the words out loud for me to hear them. They’re written all over his face. As if he could outfly one of Nitro’s fireballs.
I’ve always felt like a powerless little goldfish in the big superpowers pond when I’m around him. He watches me. Studies me. I can tell he doesn’t understand how Rebel and I are friends.
Then again, Rebel is pretty much beyond everyone’s understanding most of the time.
“Not an experience I want to repeat, no.” I cover my mouth to hide a yawn.
Riley doesn’t take the hint.
“Well, it won’t happen again. The new security measures will be unparalleled,” he explains. “Retinal scans on the elevators. Freeze rays aimed at every entrance ready to stop any intruders in their tracks. An electromagnetic shield around the entire campus, configured to allow only authorized personnel signatures. It should all be up and operational within a week.”
I nod absently, wondering how long I have to stand here listening to him. Riley has a tendency to ramble. If he goes on much longer, I might pass out right here.
“The IT crew will also be installing security cameras in every hallway this afternoon,” he continues magnanimously. “Dad can ask them to add a camera in the lab too, if you’d like.”
“No,” I blurt out. “That won’t be necessary.”
Mom and Mr. Malone have had this argument before. Mr. Malone thinks we need cameras—for security and so we have a record of the research in case of an accident or another problem. Mom doesn’t want to feel like she’s being watched.
“It’s no problem,” Riley insists. “If it will make you feel safer—”
Something connects with my head. Hard. “Ouch.”
I rub at the sore spot and move out of the way of the guy hovering five and a half feet off the ground as he works on a sprinkler head in the ceiling above me.
Only I could get kicked in the head by a flying superhero. I don’t actually have the power of invisibility, but some days it’s hard to remember that. Especially around here. To the superheroes of the League, an ordinary like me might as well be nonexistent. The powerless are pretty much beneath their notice, unless they have a useful skill like Mom’s super brain.
When my research is complete, I’ll be invaluable to the heroes. They’ll have to notice me.
The collision draws Mr. Malone’s attention. “Kenna, sweetheart, I thought you were heading home.”
“I am, Mr. Malone.” I gesture at the flurry of activity around us. “Just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”
“Our team has the cleanup under control,” he says with his standard patronizing smile. He exchanges a look with Riley, who resumes typing on his smartphone. “You go on home. Everything will be good as new by morning.”
Before I can respond, he wraps an arm around Riley’s shoulder and guides him away. And just like that, I’m dismissed. I get it. I’m not a super, so there’s nothing I can do to help. I’m in the way.