Not Your Sidekick Read online

  Something electronic sparks behind M, and M topples over with a metallic clank. Jess can hear some cursing and then the call ends.

  Jess snorts and then turns off the desktop projector, unsyncing her DED. She goes back to her room, shaking her head. A job would have been cool, but this seems like a joke.

  Maybe she should just apply to that sandwich shop downtown. At least she’ll get discounted sandwiches. And it wouldn’t really be that impressive on her college resume, but maybe if she got to be like a manager. If she worked steady hours, wouldn’t that show she was responsible?

  Jess starts works on an outline for her history paper on the causes of the third world war. She opens a new browser to look up more information about the nuclear meltdown sites and possibly some images, and then mooches around on the Net and reads up on the latest comic book news. Her bedroom wall is covered in projections—Jess’ outline, her history notes from class, articles about the Disasters—but most of the holos are images of Captain Orion and Jess’ favorite excerpts from the latest comic.

  Her DED chimes with a new message notification.

  To: Jessica Tran

  From: M, Monroe Industries

  Please disregard the interruption during our video interview; we had an electronic malfunction. Our company would be pleased to hire you for our office intern position. We are located at 3529 Seventh Street. Pay starts at twenty-five credits an hour, starting Monday.

  -M

  Attached is a short list of office duties, not much more detailed than in the job listing: filing, sorting, answering phone calls, organizing. There’s also an “as needed” clause for “various office duties.”

  Jess rereads the email. Her heart skips a beat when she sees the pay rate. That’s way more than double minimum wage. And Jess thought getting nine credits an hour at the sandwich shop would have been great.

  Looking up Monroe Industries again, she searches “experimental divisions” and then blinks. She finds many holopages; apparently there’s a whole bunch of archiving for old projects that needs to be done, and there’s a list of other mundane duties that anyone can do.

  “Strange,” Jess mutters. She swears they didn’t have this section of the site yesterday. Maybe she just didn’t see it before.

  Still, the job is worth checking out, and M did say they would answer any questions. Showing up for the first day isn’t committing to anything if she hasn’t signed any paperwork. Jess just wants to see what this is about.

  Jess sets down her stylus, shuts the textbook browser, and closes the outline for her paper. She yawns, and then notices a new message blinking.

  From: Emma 8:42pm

  hey how’d the interview go?

  To: Emma 8:43pm

  got the job! it’s kinda weird tho? the interviewer didn’t show their face

  From Emma 8:45pm

  bad hair day

  Jess laughs; that’s not really a reasonable explanation. But they are a tech company. Maybe they were testing something. She chats with Emma and her worry lifts as Emma makes a joke out of the entire thing. She’s doesn’t think it’s that weird that the interviewer wasn’t visible on the video call. Emma has a good idea about asking Jess’ mom to investigate Monroe Industries.

  Li Hua Chen, now Tran, had been a journalist before she took on real estate as her “official cover.” Apparently when the Heroes’ League of Heroes signed her on as Smasher there were already enough people using “journalist” as a cover. Jess thinks it was a waste; her mother is a great writer and definitely still has the investigative chops to figure out if M is using Monroe Industries as a front.

  “Hey, Mom?” Jess finds her mom in the study, where she’s got a communication link set up on her DED, and is apparently talking to Victor while he’s out on patrol.

  “All right, see you soon,” Li Hua says into her wrist with a note of exasperation in her voice.

  “Dad find something to do?” Jess asks.

  Her mother shakes her head. “Apparently he tried to stop a robbery, but it was actually the owners of the house who had locked themselves out.”

  Jess can picture it: her dad, in full Shockwave gear, giving the supposed robbers a speech on honesty and integrity.

  “Is he really embarrassed?”

  “He’s having a moment. Flying over to the other side of town, buying your favorite sponge cake. I think he feels bad for being too hard on you at dinner the other day, too.” Li Hua’s eyes soften a bit, and she stands up to pat Jess on the shoulder. They don’t touch much; her family isn’t big on physical affection. Li Hua’s voice is sincere and even, as if she’s thought about how to say this for a while. “We don’t mean to come off that way, and we just want the best for you. And your brother doesn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine, Mom.” Jess pats her hand, wondering if her mother would be weirded out by a hug. She settles for an appreciative nod.

  Her mother nods back, and Jess impulsively goes for the hug.

  Li Hua strokes Jess’ hair. “You know, if you don’t get—”

  “I applied for a job, and I actually got hired, but I wanted to see if you knew anything about the experimental divisions of Monroe Industries. It seemed kind of odd.” Jess explains about the video interview and how strange the interview had been.

  “Oh! That could have been the electronic firewall we have around the house. To prevent villains from hacking into our servers, you know. It’s such a nice thing that the Associated League does for us, to protect our secret identities…”

  Jess nods and listens for a while about the heroic agency and how amazing it is, and finally is able to duck free and head back to her room. Flashing lights shine from under Brendan’s bedroom door, and Jess considers asking about them, but keeps walking.

  An hour later into homework, her mom knocks on her door and pokes her head in before Jess can say anything. “Hey, Mei-Mei.”

  Jess bristles at the nickname. Her parents use it a lot, and she’s the only one of their children that actually gets called the childhood nickname. She’s not even the youngest—they didn’t stop using it when Brendan was born, but he got to be Bren-Bren, so it’s not that bad.

  “I’m so proud of you for getting this internship, and with Monroe Industries too! The company does so well, nationally and overseas. It’s a great start to be around all those amazing and talented people. The experimental division checks out, definitely. They’ve had a few projects in Crystal Springs and apparently now they’re here.” Li Hua smiles, her eyes alight.

  “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

  “Do you want me to take you shopping for work clothes?”

  “Ah, they want me to start on Monday? And I have some clothes from debate team last year that still fit. I’ll just wear one of those outfits.” Jess smiles at her mother, who nods back and ducks out of her room, closing the door behind her.

  The weekend is slow; her parents are called away to Las Vegas for an Associated League of Heroes meeting Saturday, and they expect it will run late. Jess is supposed to be watching Brendan; she wastes time flicking through the Net and idling through her homework, listening for any explosions from his room.

  It’s not until Jess looks up and notices that the sky outside her window is dark that everything seems to catch up to her, especially that sharp, aching hunger that comes from forgetting to eat. Brendan must hungry too; lunch was so long ago. Ugh, it’s almost eight o’clock.

  She sighs and goes to Brendan’s room. “Hey, what do you want to do for food? There’s some frozen dumplings I can make. Or some leftover rice from lunch that I can fry with eggs.”

  Wearing a pair of safety goggles on his head, Brendan opens the door. He scrunches his face. “Mom and Dad leave you any credits?”

  “For an emergency,” Jess says, rolling her eyes. There’s plenty of food in the house.

  Br
endan raises his eyebrows. “What about Bells’ restaurant? I like the food there.”

  Jess’ stomach grumbles; Creole food does sound amazing right now. She hasn’t eaten since lunch and was too focused on her research to snack. It’s a great idea, and wouldn’t cost too much. Bells is on shift today, and the Broussards love her. And seeing Brendan flail over Bells is always entertaining.

  Jess conjures up that image and snickers. “Okay. Do you need like, an hour to change?”

  Two spots of color appear high on Brendan’s cheeks. “What? No. I’m ready, just—”

  Grumbling, he closes the door, and Jess laughs to herself. She flicks through her notifications on her DED until the door opens again. Brendan has changed into a clean T-shirt and jeans, and there’s some gunk in his hair. It takes a moment for Jess to realize it’s a temporary hair product, and there are clunky red streaks in his hair.

  She grins but doesn’t say anything.

  The minivan takes forever to boot up as usual, and it also tells them, “You have arrived at your destination,” when they’re still two blocks away from the Broussard family restaurant. Jess and Brendan get out of the car and walk; it’s not as bad as the time the car almost took them to Las Vegas when they just wanted to go to the Andover Mall.

  The Broussard’s restaurant, Home Away from Home, is in an historical building, Art Deco reminiscent of twenty-first century roadside-diner architecture. The inside, however, is a riot of warm, friendly color, lush oranges and reds, a nod to the Broussard family’s roots in Louisiana before they moved west after the Disasters.

  Jess’ stomach grumbles as a waitress passes by carrying a steaming plate of jambalaya; the rich aroma of the spices wafts decadently.

  Brendan pulls her to a table in Bells’ section, and it isn’t long before Bells appears, with his bright hair—blue and orange today—tied neatly in a little ponytail at the back, and wearing an apron over his tank top and jeans.

  “Hey,” Jess says. “Little bro was hungry. Thought we’d come by and say hi.”

  “Of course,” Bells says with a wink.

  Brendan makes a high-pitched noise that could be a greeting.

  “Like your hair, dude.” Bells smiles at Brendan and then flicks off the holo projected on the table. “The usual?”

  “Yes, please,” Jess says in the wake of Brendan’s stunned stupor. She and Bells share amused looks and Bells heads off, chuckling to himself.

  “Shut up,” Brendan mutters.

  “Didn’t say anything.”

  Their food arrives quickly: the jambalaya special for Jess and red beans and rice topped with a heap of green onions for Brendan. Bells comes back with a generous chunk of cornbread for them to share and sits down, knocking Jess’ shoulder companionably before he has to get up and fetch things for other tables.

  Jess savors the way the textures and flavors come together on her tongue: the crunch of the green peppers and the vibrant flavor of the soft rice contrasting with the eggplant and zucchini. She drinks a sip of water and dives back in for more of the delicious spicy dish. The Broussards have their own way of spicing the protein that makes their “sausage,” and it tastes good, almost passes for meat.

  The vegetables are fresh and delicious, and Jess settles back in her seat with a happy sigh. She waves at the open window to the kitchen where she can see Bells’ older brother Simon working at the grill, and he gives her a jaunty wave.

  “How’s everything tasting?” Simon calls.

  “Delicious, as always,” Jess says back.

  “Home grown and organic, can’t go wrong with that,” Simon says, waving a pair of tongs at her. The Broussards have their own greenhouse where they grow all their produce despite the Collective guarantee that crops are stable and will continue to be stable. Bells’ great-grandparents survived the Disasters because a combination of paranoia and self-sufficiency led them to stockpile supplies. They’re still quite suspicious about the government. Bells and his siblings think that their dad’s rants about privacy and government meddling in farm management are silly, but they work the greenhouse and the restaurant anyway.

  “I like having fresh vegetables,” Bells said the first time Jess asked about it. “I don’t believe in all the theories my dad has about the government, but everybody’s got to have a hobby, right?”

  And all of Andover adores the Broussards’ “hobby.” Home Away from Home has been a beloved restaurant for years and was even featured in a newsholo feature in New Bright City.

  Brendan polishes off his dish with a happy sigh, stuffs a chunk of cornbread in his mouth, and mumbles something about winning prizes before he ambles over to the crane game machine in the corner.

  Jess watches him as he keeps swiping his DED for attempt after attempt at winning a stuffed animal.

  The dinner rush is over; they’re the only ones left in the restaurant. Bells sits down next to her, chuckling. “You wanna tell him that machine hasn’t given up a prize for anyone in ten years?”

  Jess leans back. “Nah.” She pokes Bells’ shoulders playfully, surprised at the firmness of the muscle. “You’ve been working out?”

  “Huh? Yeah, my brother was complaining that he didn’t have anyone to do weights with.” Bells shrugs.

  Something else is different, too, something that Jess can’t quite place. His tank top is well-fitted, stretched over his chest—

  “Oh, dude,” Jess says, nudging him with her hip. “It’s really late. You’ve been wearing your binder all day. Feeling okay?”

  Bells blinks. “Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Took a break after school.” He steals a bite of cornbread, talking as he chews. “Hey, first day of your new job is tomorrow, right? Downtown?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Not really a nice area. Are you driving?”

  “Bus from school, and then walking,” Jess says. “Monroe Industries is in the industrial part. It’s not that bad, really.”

  Bells furrows his eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry,” Jess says. “It’ll be fine.”

  Monday after school, Jess takes the school bus to Old Andover and transfers to a city bus. Bells gives her a new canister of pepper spray, just in case. It might be overkill, especially with her dad flying around looking for any excuse to help anyone, but she takes it.

  The bus is crowded, but Jess manages to get a seat next to a window. The glass pane vibrates as she leans against it and the bus rumbles as it moves through the colorful streets of Andover. From an advertisement on a wall for Eversparkle Teeth Whitening, Captain Orion’s gleaming smile beams at the bus riders. A video projection at the front of the bus shows a news-holo from New Bright City. Apparently the Heroes’ League has had another success: They found a Villain’s Guild base and destroyed it.

  When Jess transfers to go downtown, the new bus is so crowded with people on their way home from work, she has to stand. Everyone is in business attire and looking pointedly at their DEDS or talking to each other about things like stocks and portfolios and quarterly returns. Jess is painfully aware of how young she is. Her shirtsleeves don’t quite extend to her wrists; after a growth spurt last summer, her debate clothes don’t fit as well as she thought. She feels as if she’s playing dress-up.

  Jess sways as the bus turns and almost misses her stop. She jerks to attention when she sees the Monroe building at the end of the block.

  She holds the straps of her backpack so it doesn’t bounce as she strides quickly—she’s going to need to reschedule with M in the future if taking the bus from school is going to take this long.

  A bunch of people loiter about the street; some of them look unsavory. It’s not that this area is bad, but downtown is where a lot of people end up. Even though World War III was long ago, there are always conflicts abroad that involve the Collective. Jess doesn’t know too much except that there are always veterans on the streets without many reso
urces. There are a lot of drugs moving in this area, too, but no one ever talks about that.

  Jess is almost there when she’s taken aback by a headful of long, flowing red-gold curls next to her, almost the color of Abby’s hair, but too bright to be realistic.

  The woman walking alongside her is incredibly tall, with a long aquiline nose and wearing a sleek green dress. She smiles at Jess and slows her pace to match Jess’ own, and Jess nods, somewhat reassured by the kindness.

  “There is a man following you,” the woman says, and Jess starts.

  “Oh.”

  “I can walk with you. Where are you going?”

  “Just to the end of the block,” Jess says.

  They fall into stride. The woman is imposing, and familiar, but she can’t place how. Jess is struck by her blue, blue eyes; a crystal color that she didn’t think was possible.

  At the Monroe building, Jess nods at the woman. “Thank you.” The woman nods back, smiles, and strides down the street, her striking copper curls bouncing.

  Jess watches her and then kicks herself for not asking whether her hair was natural or dyed. That was the kind of thing Bells would appreciate.

  She shakes herself and straightens her shirt collar and turns to face the towering height of the office building. It stretches to the sky, large and imposing, shining in the afternoon sun. On the top floor, Jess can make out the huge letters spelling out MONROE. Shadows bustle about, and she can see the whizzing of elevators through the glass walls as people go about their business.

  Jess squares her shoulders and pushes open the door. The air conditioning is cool against her skin. The reception area is bare, except for a potted bird of paradise plant in the corner and some leather chairs. An empty desk bars the way to a long hallway. Beyond that, a few employees walk around in a central lobby, presumably heading for elevators and their own workspaces.

  “Hello?” Jess asks. She brushes down her now slightly wrinkled slacks and the prim button up that’s a little too tight around the shoulders. Looking nervously at her reflection in the sleek surface of the wall, she fiddles with the collar a bit more. At least she didn’t attempt to wear heels; that would have been a nightmare. Jess has no sense of balance whatsoever.