Not Your Sidekick Read online

  “A person in a mecha-suit? Like Master Mischief used to clunk around in?”

  “Kind of. Monroe Industries is a tech company, so it makes sense.”

  Bells laughs. “Oh gosh, remember when Mischief did that thing where he like, put soap all over the golf courses and then activated the sprinklers?”

  Emma nods, then laughs. “I totally haven’t seen that video in a while, it’s great. Here, let me pull it up.”

  Emma pokes about on her DED until she finds the video: a grainy holo of the golf course, its perfectly manicured grass startling green against the red-gold landscape of the desert. Jess and Bells lean close to see the projection, and Jess can’t help chuckling before she even sees it happen. Then there’s movement, sprinklers going, bubbles floating everywhere, and in the midst of the chaos, Master Mischief strikes a dramatic pose. Then, he attempts to fly out of the bubbles, but the suit freezes up. He gets a foot high in the air before the suit clanks to the ground, when Smasher and Shockwave arrive on the scene, apprehend him, and hand him to the authorities.

  “This is your favorite part, here,” Emma says, rewinding the holovid with her fingers and pausing on the exact moment Master Mischief strikes his pose. Bells dissolves into peals of laughter, shaking as he slumps onto Emma’s shoulders, and she props him up. “Look, I think there’s one of this bit on a loop.”

  Jess grins as she scoots back, watching her friends.

  A stray curl falls in front of Emma’s face, and Bells tucks it behind her ear. Emma scrunches her nose and looks up at Bells, who looks away quickly.

  Jess bursts into giggles.

  “What?” Emma asks.

  Bells’ eyes widen.

  “Ah, did you see this holo of this cat Bells sent last night?” Jess says, deftly changing the topic.

  The image of Master Mischief’s suit malfunctioning sticks with Jess, and the next time she’s at work, she eyes M’s mecha-suit until finally she can’t bear not knowing. “Is your suit waterproof?” she blurts out.

  “Oh God, yes, my—er, Master Mischief discovered that not having a waterproof suit was incredibly debilitating. Especially after the soap bubble incident.”

  “I thought the soap idea was pretty funny.”

  “Yeah, good, it should teach the country club not to waste water. Those fairways are ridiculous. We live in a desert!”

  Jess pauses. She always just thought the Andover Heights Country club paid for the water. Images from her history holobooks flick through her mind, of people desperate for clean water during the time of the Disasters. There are always public service announcements from the Collective about using only the water you need, but Jess never really thought about where the water had to come from. Those desalination plants and reservoirs always just seemed like a distant certainty, but it must take a lot of time and resources to get that water to where it’s needed. “I didn’t think about it like that. Everyone just said it was to be funny, you know, like how Mischief’s always doing these pranks—”

  “Yeah, because the press is too busy following Smasher’s newest hairstyle or like, I dunno, whatever they want to focus on. I guess our town isn’t so bad, but my dad says even if the Mischiefs spelled out exactly what they were trying to do, the media would probably still mess it up.” M’s face panel lights blink colorfully.

  “I knew about the cheese! It was spoiled,” Jess says.

  “Yeah, thank God for Net conspiracy theorists. I loved your T-shirt, I think it’s great that you have one.”

  Jess grins. “My parents hate it.”

  “Ahahaha, most people think the shirts are dumb. Or that the Mischiefs are dumb. I know better—well, we know better. Like, don’t you think it’s weird that we don’t know much about historical heroes?”

  “What historical heroes? We know that Captain Orion’s grandfather was the first one who researched the meta-gene and the different ways it was expressed after the X29 incident.”

  “Yeah, but there must have been more meta-powered people who found out about their abilities right after the flare,” M says. “Why is Lieutenant Orion one of the few heroes mentioned in the history books?”

  Jess shrugs. “He’s not the only one,” she says. “I mean, there were a bunch of people, Gravitus, Photon—”

  She really doesn’t know much about Gravitus or Photon or any of the early meta-humans other than Lieutenant Orion. “There probably weren’t a lot of people documented until after Lieutenant Orion because well, people were just figuring out about meta-humans back then. And it wasn’t until Lieutenant Orion was established as a hero that the vigilantes started stepping forward.”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that. What about…”

  Talking to M is easy. Jess enjoys the electronic cadence of her voice. Emma and Bells have been encouraging her to use this time to get to know Abby, but the minute she gets in the same room as her crush, she gets distracted by the color of her lips or the way she scrunches her nose as she types, and freezes up.

  Jess’ seventeenth birthday is a relatively quiet affair; her parents take her and her friends out for dinner and cake. Emma gives her a set of collector’s edition Captain Orion comics and Bells hand-painted the covers of three new journals for her to write in.

  Jess sits back, full of food. Bells and Brendan play with the light-up display that reads “JESS” in colorful blue lights, a gift from Brendan. It’s a thoughtful present, and Jess is thankful for the dinner at her favorite restaurant.

  Her parents haven’t said anything to her about not presenting with any powers, but they’re probably waiting until Emma and Bells go home.

  “Oh, isn’t that Elizabeth Phang?” Jess’ mom asks.

  Sure enough, a few tables away, Elizabeth looks as if she’s out with her parents.

  “Why didn’t you invite her to your party? You two used to be such good friends,” Li Hua says.

  “Not really. Uh, we were gonna go see a movie, right?”

  “Yes, the movie starts in twenty minutes; thank you for dinner, Mrs. Tran,” Bells says as he gets up.

  They make their escape before it gets awkward.

  “Happy birthday to youuu,” Emma singsongs at her.

  “Thanks, you guys.”

  They’ve bought tickets, and Jess and Emma are waiting for Bells to come back with the popcorn. He does, but he’s also staring at his DED and frowning. “Sorry, guys, there’s an emergency at the restaurant; my parents need me to come back.” He hands them the bucket of popcorn and gives them each a quick hug before running off.

  “Bells! Do you need a ride?” Jess calls.

  “Ah, my brother is picking me up, thanks!” Bells calls back, running toward the parking lot.

  “That sucks,” Jess says as they sit. “He was really looking forward to this one, too.”

  “Isn’t his older brother away at college?” Emma asks, narrowing her eyes.

  Jess munches on popcorn. “Simon works weekends sometimes.”

  “Do you think Bells is mad at me?”

  “No, why would you think that?”

  Emma shrugs. “I haven’t seen him around much. We used to hang out all the time after school, and I know he works at his family’s restaurant, but not that much, you know? And since you started working too, it’s like… I think he doesn’t want to hang out with just me, you know? These past few weeks it’s just been him coming up with these lame excuses, like… I’m doing homework or I’m dyeing my hair tonight; we used to do that together, and I…” she trails off, a forgotten piece of popcorn in her hand.

  “That does sound weird. I’m sorry, I’ve been super-busy at work after school and …”

  “I know, I know, you’re hanging with your girl. And I miss all three of us spending time together, and for some reason… I dunno. Bells is just being weird, you know? Do you think he’s dating someone secretly, a
nd why would he hide it from us?”

  “No idea.”

  * * *

  Friday nights, they usually plan to hang at Emma’s house; they always rewatch a few episodes of The Gentleman Detective before watching the newest episode. Bells is late. Jess and Emma have already seen three episodes when they hear the doorbell ring. Emma beats the Robledo’s MonRobot to the door and flings it open.

  After a few hours of “Hey, where’s Bells?” and “What is that supposed to be anyway? Ugh, Bells would know,” and “Jess, Bells said today that he was coming, right?” Jess thought Emma would be pleased to see their friend. But instead of giving the expected hug, Emma stands in the entryway and gives him a flat stare.

  “Hey, where’ve you been?” she asks.

  “Oh, I had family stuff. Ran late,” Bells says.

  “Like what? My mom ran into your mom at the grocery store. Apparently everything is chill?”

  “I like your new hair,” Jess says, trying to diffuse the tension. She doesn’t want her two best friends fighting. “Did you get extensions? It looks great longer; I like it a lot.”

  Bells blinks. “Ah, no, it must be the way I’ve styled it.”

  “Oh, so you had time to go do your hair, but you don’t have time to message me and say you’re gonna be late? What’s going on with you, Bells? You know you can tell us anything, I just—feel like you don’t trust us anymore.”

  “I can’t tell you everything!” Bells snaps. “You know what, I came here to relax and hang out, not get interrogated.”

  Jess’ mouth falls open; she’s never heard Bells raise his voice, ever.

  Bells turns to Jess. “Are you just gonna stand there and let her accuse me of this?”

  “Emma’s feelings were just hurt because you kept blowing her off,” Jess says. “Us, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see her getting all high and mighty with you and your big new job, busy every day after school now!” Bells says. “You know what, I don’t need this.”

  He whirls around, leaves, and slams the door behind him. He hadn’t even stepped past the entryway.

  Emma and Jess stare at the closed door, and then Mrs. Robledo calls out, “Was that Bells? I made horchata; he likes it better than hot cocoa!”

  Emma sniffs, grabs Jess by the elbow and leads her back into her bedroom. “We don’t have to marathon this anymore; Bells is the only one who likes this dumb show anyway.”

  Jess sinks onto Emma’s bed, deflated.

  “I don’t think those extensions looked that great,” Emma says. “Who gets extensions like, for two inches of hair?”

  “Bells is very serious about his hair.” It wouldn’t seem like a stretch for him to ask for a specific thing, like only two inches or so, but it’s not as if Jess is an expert on hair extensions.

  “Yeah, but it’s not possible to just get your hair just a bit longer. It’s usually at least six inches. My cousin, for her quinceañera, had the whole nine yards: hair, makeup, everything. Isn’t just a little bit longer weird?”

  “I guess,” Jess says.

  Emma changes the channel; the characters from The Gentleman Detective dissolve and reform into Lilliputian and Starscream. Wilton Lysander stands in front of the camera, gesturing frantically. “I’m here in Orange Port where Lilliputian and Starscream are taking on Coldfront.”

  Lysander nearly gets shot with an ice blast, but ducks just in time. The narration is interesting, despite the somewhat routine fight. Lilliputian and Starscream apprehend the villain easily, and soon Emma is rewinding the clip to play it again.

  Something occurs to Jess during the rewatch. “I wonder how the cameraperson knew they were there,” she says.

  “They probably just showed up.”

  “But look at all the angles. Like how we can see Starscream’s face perfectly here, and then Lilliputian here when he gets small, and then here when they fight again on this ledge. This fight only takes about five minutes total, and there’s no way there was a photographer at each of these spots with a holocam. It’s put together like a movie.”

  Emma blinks. “I guess? But look how you can see Starscream’s face here. Aren’t his eyes dreamy? And that jawline. And the stubble.”

  “Yes, he’s hot, but I’m saying that … actual news footage wouldn’t look like this. It would be super-zoomed in, unless they were fighting where people were already set up for the angles.”

  “Maybe the reporters are just really good at their job,” Emma says. She props her face in her elbows, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not in the mood to figure out what’s going on here. I just want to veg out and watch Starscream’s butt in his tights.”

  “All right.” Jess says. “Hey, come here.” She pulls Emma into a hug and Emma sniffs, as if she’s been holding back tears. Jess rubs her back; Bells is better at this than she is, but Bells is the reason Emma’s upset.

  They settle back and watch the fight again. Starscream and Lilliputian work together effortlessly, and Coldfront goes down, shuddering when the two heroes slap the tantalum cuffs on him and lead him away.

  With a neat, packaged finish, it’s not unlike any of the other battles Jess has seen on television, but now she remembers how other battles were similar, from the confrontation to the one-two punch and right down to the final arrest. It varies depending on the hero and the powers, but the pattern is totally familiar.

  Emma seems as though she’s doing better after a few video compilations of Starscream’s greatest battles. Jess looks at the pile of snacks and vintage board games Emma had pulled out in preparation for the night. There’s even a brand-new sketchpad and a set of expensive markers Bells would never have bought for himself. With a sad smile, Jess touches the gifts and hopes that things work out soon.

  Emma suggests that Jess sleep over, but Jess doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Mrs. Robledo likes sleepover guests to have a big breakfast with the family, but Jess wants to avoid the awkward questions about why Bells isn’t there.

  After Emma drops her off at home, she looks for footage of previously aired battles, starting with the major heroes in New Bright City.

  Jess compares. Same too obvious camera angles. Same finish with the tantalum cuffs. No one ever gets injured, no one is actually in danger, and nothing is really at stake. Jess hadn’t realized that what she’s been seeing play out in her own small city—the Mischiefs causing a minor disturbance, her parents chasing them away or recovering the item they stole—was happening all over the country. Jess thought the harmless pranks were just because they were C-class heroes and villains, but it’s the same everywhere, though at grander scales.

  There’s a cheeping outside Jess’ door, and Jess opens it to find Chả blinking up at her. “Hey dude.” Jess says. “Come on in.”

  The MonRobot rolls inside, knocks into the foot of Jess’ bed and continues vacuuming haphazardly. It’s only halfway through with the room before it runs out of battery and cheeps sadly until Jess picks it up and carries it to its charging station. “Poor baby, I just charged you yesterday. Hey, I wonder if I get some sort of employee discount and can get you an upgrade?”

  Chả cheeps.

  * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Jess takes the bus downtown. She straightens her best pair of jeans. M said to wear whatever she wants, but she can’t help but worry that jeans are unprofessional. Still, they are a lot more comfortable than her dress slacks from freshman year.

  The Monroe building is fairly empty, and the robot at the front desk bobs at her in greeting and says, “Hello, Jessica,” in an even tone.

  Jess swipes her own keycard to access the special floor on the elevator, and it whirs to life, heading downstairs.

  Abby is already at the reception desk, typing away at something at the computer. “Hey,” she says with a disarming smile. It’s blinding, that’s what it is, and Jess doesn’t assume that
it’s meant for her; Abby’s just nice to everyone.

  Say hello. Say something. Anything. How’s the weather? You look great. Your skirt is amazing. Why do you smell so good?

  Finally Jess just nods, and congratulates herself for not saying anything awkward.

  “M will join you in your office in a bit,” Abby says. She stands up and brushes off imaginary dust.

  “Are you—are you going to be doing more robotics work today?” Jess asks.

  “Yeah. And M liked your idea about the casual attire—as long as you’re comfortable, you know.”

  “You’re still wearing a dress.”

  Abby lifts an eyebrow, and a smile tickles the corners of her lips. “I’m wearing a dress because I like it. I’ll see you later.”

  Jess mutters to herself and walks right into the wall. She winces and rubs her shoulder. Ugh, at least she was out of sight. She can’t believe she said that. It sounded awful, as if she was judging Abby for her fashion choices. She cringes. You’re still wearing a dress? There’s nothing wrong with dresses, in fact Abby looks great wearing them.

  Abby looks great in her volleyball uniform. Abby looks great in her workout clothes. Jess probably has no chance of interacting with her like a normal person because she always is gorgeous, no matter what she wears.

  Jess slumps face first onto the desk until she gets motivated to pick herself up and read today’s to-do list.

  The first item is to go up to the fourteenth floor and pick up parts for M. Jess pulls the instructions onto a DED chip and loads it into her own, and then adds the three more orders of magnesium and aluminum alloys M mentioned she needed yesterday. The elevator is empty all the way up to the first floor, and then dings for the lobby. The doors open, but no one enters.

  “Close doors,” Jess says.

  “Wait, wait, hold the elevator!”

  Jess sticks her arm out so the doors don’t shut, and a breathless teenage boy dashes in.

  He’s wearing what seems to be a flashy blue designer suit; it looks exactly like the one Wilton Lysander wears on the news. The boy grins at Jess and runs his hands through his blond hair; there’s a matching blue streak running down the left side. “Hi! Thanks so much,” he says.