The nurse sighed. “Not too many people have ever come in contact with young Mr. Everhart. We must be cautious.”
“Well,” Nova said, finishing the latches on her boots, “if I die, I’ll let you know. Until then, I have things to be dealing with. And”—she gestured at Danna—“apparently, so do you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“OKAY, THERE’S YOUR NEW HOSPITAL TOWER,” said Adrian, pushing the building into Max’s enclosure. “What else got broken?”
“Just those apartments you fell on,” said Max, pointing toward the exit.
“Right,” said Adrian, starting to sketch. Inside the quarantine, Max carried the new tower over to the hospital building. He set it down on the broken stump, working mostly single-handed, as his right hand was heavily bandaged. Adrian watched as Max used his forearm to hold the tower in place while wrapping his left hand around the break. Slowly, the glass began to melt together, forming a seal that wasn’t perfect—a visible crack was still evident where the material had merged—but it seemed solid enough.
Adrian swallowed. He had seen Max use that particular gift a number of times, probably more than any other power he’d absorbed. It made him think about what Nova had seen—Max using his telekinesis to hold dozens of glass buildings in the air at once. Truthfully, that mental image had not left him since Nova had told him. He’d been trying all morning to find a way to ask Max about it, but he hadn’t yet found a way to do it that didn’t sound accusatory.
Instead of asking the question he really wanted to ask, he said, “How’s the hand?”
“Could be worse.” Max looked down at his bandaged palm. “They had to cauterize the artery—that’s where all the blood was coming from. But the spire went through right here.” He lifted his left hand so he could show Adrian. “In this meaty part between my thumb and finger. So it missed all the bones and tendons.” He shrugged. “I guess it would have hurt a lot worse if the wound had been more central. And, you know, it hurt pretty bad as it was.”
“With any luck, you’ll have an epic scar to show for it.”
A fleeting smile passed over Max’s face. He stepped back to inspect the hospital, then picked his way back toward Adrian. He sat down at the edge of the bay while Adrian sketched out the crushed apartment building.
“Hey, Adrian?” he started, cradling his bandaged hand in his lap, picking at the edges of the wrapping.
Adrian looked up, immediately hesitant. It wasn’t very often that he heard Max sounding worried about anything. “What’s up?”
Max sat up a bit straighter, but still didn’t meet Adrian’s eye. “I have Ace Anarchy’s power.”
Adrian watched him, waiting for him to say something else, but this seemed to be the extent of his confession.
“Yeah,” he finally responded. “I know.”
Max shifted slightly, clearing his throat. “Do you think…” He trailed off.
“Do I think what?”
“Do you think I might be evil?”
Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned back, pulling the marker’s tip away from the unfinished drawing.
“Or…,” Max continued, “that I have some evil powers in me?”
Adrian waited for Max to look up at him, but the kid kept his gaze resolutely on the floor. “No, I don’t.”
Max’s mouth puckered to one side, unconvinced. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Because it’s true,” Adrian said with a laugh. “Is this why you pretend you’re no good at it? Is this why you’ve hidden how strong you are, all these years?”
Max looked up, his face rife with regret. He didn’t answer, but Adrian could see the truth written plainly on his face.
Sighing, Adrian capped the marker. “For starters, most of the horrible things Ace Anarchy did, he could only do because he had that helmet. Once they got the helmet, he was … I mean, for a telekinetic he was still pretty strong and all, but not nearly like before. And more important than that, what we do—what any of us do—it’s just a series of choices, right? Take … take fire elementals. Every fire elemental has a choice. They can burn down buildings, or they can make s’mores.”
He intended it to be funny, but Max frowned, looking unimpressed at Adrian’s attempts at being clever.
“If you had the power to do everything Ace Anarchy could do, you would have chosen differently. You would build things, not tear them down.” He gestured at the glass city. “Case in point.”
This, finally, brought a small smile to Max’s mouth.
“Speaking of building things,” said Max, his eyes brightening. “I discovered something this morning. Want to see?”
Without waiting for an answer, he got up and bounded back to his rooms, returning a moment later with a slim red marker.
He crouched down in front of the wall and began to draw onto the glass. Soon he had completed a rudimentary sketch of a car. When he was finished, he capped the marker, then pressed his forefinger into the car’s center and pushed.
Adrian was already grinning by the time the car popped out of the wall, landing in the palm of his hand. It was roughly the size of his palm. A little lopsided. The wheels did not turn. It also did not have the same solid feel that one of his own glass figurines had, but rather there was a softness inherent in the material. A malleability. Like glass that was on the verge of melting.
All that aside, it was real.
“Why, you little bandit,” he said. “You stole my power.”
Max grunted. He was staring at the car with obvious disapproval. “I’m not a very good artist. And there’s something wrong with all the things I’ve made so far. They’re not stable like yours. I did some things on paper first, and they just crumple like tissue paper as soon as I pull them out.”
Adrian turned the car over, holding it by the hood, when the whole thing drooped down toward the floor, bending nearly in half. “Ah! Sorry.”