Page 84 of Renegades

Adrian frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe, but let’s see what tonight turns up first.”

Nova peered at him from the corner of her eye. Is that where he would place the false evidence?

“My turn,” said Ruby, nudging Oscar on the shoulder while Nova and Adrian returned to the blanket. “I’m bored.”

“Oh yeah, because this is exciting stuff,” he said, but relinquished his place at the window without argument. Lying down, he stretched out onto the pillows.

“How about you?” said Nova, turning to Adrian. “Were you challenged at the trials?”

“Nope.”

“Adrian didn’t have to try out,” said Oscar, kicking Adrian in the shin. “Cheater.”

“Oh right,” said Nova. “Because of…” She hesitated over the right words. His family? His dads? His adoptive relations, who just happened to be the most influential prodigies in the city, perhaps the whole world?

“It’s not like they bent any rules for me or anything,” said Adrian. At some point he had pulled out his fine-tip marker and he was fidgeting with it now, twisting the cap back and forth. “But I was hanging out around headquarters since they first started renovations. By the time someone thought to start hosting trials to bring in new talent, I was already… you know. A part of the team. Obviously, I would have tried out, if anyone had asked me to.”

He scowled at Oscar, and something about his defensiveness made Nova relax.

“I know you would have,” said Oscar. “And you would have kicked ass.”

“Thank you,” said Adrian, scratching his temple with the pen. “I mean, I could have drawn a hand grenade. Come on.”

“No one’s doubting you,” Oscar insisted.

“And what’s your origin story?” said Nova. “I’m guessing that marker doesn’t contain magical ink?”

Adrian’s quiet smile returned as he glanced down at the marker. “No magic. Sadly, no thrilling near-death experiences or villainous jewelry heists, either.” He sighed heavily, as though he’d been dreading this moment, though a hint of a smile remained. “Like twenty-eight percent of today’s prodigies, I was born with my power. At least, I think I was. It manifested pretty much the first time I was handed a crayon.”

“Manifested how?” said Nova.

He shrugged. “I started to scribble, and those scribbles started to come to life and squiggle around the apartment like little primary-colored worms that my mom was always trying to sweep up. Now, things got really interesting when I was… maybe two or three? My power works by intention more than anything, so back then, I was still just scribbling random lines, but in my head I was drawing dinosaurs and aliens. So then the house became overrun with tiny little squiggle lines that believed they were dinosaurs and aliens and were always trying to chomp down on people’s toes when they were walking around. Which is about the time Mom thought it would be a good idea to hire an ex–art teacher who lived a couple streets away to start giving me drawing lessons.”

Oscar snorted loudly. “Notice how he complained about the lack of excitement in his story, but then it turns out there were actual meat-eating dinosaurs in it? You’re such a one-upper, Sketch.”

“It was a harrowing tale,” agreed Nova. She was grinning, though her thoughts were roiling in the back of her head. Adrian had mentioned his mom, and now she found herself comparing his face to pictures she’d seen of Lady Indomitable—the sixth and final of the original Renegades. The resemblance was clear. Nova could pictureher effervescent smile easily, a smile that rivaled the Captain’s in brightness and charm, and one Adrian had clearly inherited.

His mother had been a Renegade, too. Would probably be on the Council today, if she were—

Nova’s heart squeezed.

If she were still alive.

She racked her brain, trying to recall what had happened to the superhero, but all she knew was that she had died a long time ago. Nova had never really cared that much. One less Renegade to worry about. But now she found herself succumbing to curiosity, wanting to know what had happened to her, but not knowing how to ask.

“No more stalling, Insomnia,” said Adrian, yanking her attention back. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh.” Shaking her head, Nova flipped her hand through the air, like the story was so dull it was hardly worth mentioning. In fact, she had been born with her power—what she thought of as herrealpower, the ability to put people to sleep. She had a vague memory of her mom once joking about how hard it had been to breastfeed Nova as a baby because she kept dozing off every time Nova nursed.

But the powertheyknew about, the fact that Nova never slept… that had come later. When, for weeks, every time she shut her eyes, gunshots rang in her ears.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

“It happened when I was six,” she said, picking at bits of fuzz on the blanket. “I just… stopped sleeping.”

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