“I had no choice,” Jeremy howls.
I look around for my best friend, but she’s nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Rebel?”
“On the balcony. She got fed up and went outside.”
I consider joining her, but since Draven looks like he’s on the verge of committing murder, I decide I should probably stay—at least if I want Jeremy and Nitro to stay whole and relatively healthy. Mental health is obviously another issue altogether.
Nitro gets set to lob another fireball, but I step directly in front of him and block his path. “Stop it! You’re going to burn down the whole damn hotel!”
“But he—” Nitro starts to argue, but I cut him off with a fierce glare.
“And you!” I whirl on Jeremy. “Get down from there this instant.”
“I can’t. I’ll be in range of the electricity.”
“Here’s a thought,” Draven bites off sarcastically. “Maybe you should stop trying to electrocute people, then.”
“That’s what I said!” Nitro shouts as he builds another fireball between his hands.
I count it as a small victory that he holds it in his palms instead of throwing it straight at Jeremy’s ass.
“Shut up, moron!” Draven snaps at him. “Are you trying to get us caught?”
Nitro pouts. “He started it!”
I look to Jeremy for confirmation, but he shakes his head vehemently. “No way, man! He’s the one who turned off my laptop right when I was in the middle of finessing—”
“I tripped, asshole. It was an accident!”
“How do you accidentally turn off a laptop?” I wonder amid the chaos.
“Exactly!” Jeremy crows. “I told you he started it.”
“It’s hard to take your argument seriously when you’re hanging from a ceiling fan,” I tell him, as deadpan as I can manage. “It’s like you guys are three years old.”
“Fine.” Jeremy lets go and lands on the floor with a thump that I’m certain our downstairs neighbors don’t appreciate. “But tell him to stay away from my stuff.”
The zing of electricity in the room dies down. Seconds later, all our hair settles back to normal.
“Like I’d purposely touch your stuff?” Nitro demands. I’m relieved that he’s snuffed out the fireball in his hands. “The last thing I want is zero cooties.”
I scowl at the derogatory hero dig.
“Seriously?” I say again, more forcefully this time. Because, come on. They really are acting like toddlers. “Get it together.”
Besides, if Draven and I can put aside our less-than-ideal first meeting, surely these two idiots can try to get along. For Deacon’s and my mom’s sake, if nothing else.
I leave Dante and Draven to sort out the mess and I join Rebel on the balcony. She’s sitting on one of the two chairs out there, her legs folded up so that her chin rests on her knees. And though she’s right there in front of me, I can’t help thinking that she’s really a million miles away. That she’s lost deep inside herself, tangled up in the mess our lives have so quickly become.
“Nice show,” I tell her, settling into the chair next to her.
After several long moments, she rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure who’s the bigger moron.”
“Nitro, definitely.”
She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”
“No ‘probably’ about it. He just told Jeremy he had cooties.”
“Nice.”
“Do you ever wonder how we’re going to break into the lab with these guys when the group can’t get along for more than five minutes at a time?”
“Pretty much every second of the day.” She closes her eyes and blows out a long breath.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
We sit in silence until—eyes still closed—she asks, “Do you ever wonder what that’s like?”
I’m not following. “What do you mean?”
“Nitro knows exactly who he is. So do Dante and Draven and Jeremy. Villain. Hero. They wear their labels proudly. Absolutely.” She opens her eyes and gazes off into the distance. “It’s the same at home. Dad, Riley, even Mom. They know which side of the line they stand on. They know who they are and never question the fact that they’re the good guys. And me”—she breaks off and takes a couple deep breaths—“I’m the black sheep. The rebel. Between the pressure to live up to the family name and the fear that I’ll never live it down, I don’t know if I even have a clue who I am. Hero. Villain. Both. Neither? I don’t even know.”
“You’re a hero,” I tell her firmly. “The real kind. More so than your dad or any of the others working with him are. “
“Why? Because I don’t buy into the bullshit?”
“Yes.” I lean back and stare up at the starry sky. “And because you’re willing to do something about it. You’ve always known the superheroes had a weird agenda. And you’ve fought it. That’s totally heroic behavior.”