Page 21 of No Capes
“Good morning, Capital City Sharks, and pardon the interruption. Students and faculty, please convene in the auditorium for a very special guest speaker. Second period has been canceled. That’s all for now, have a FIN-tastic day!”
High-fives and excited expletives explode throughout the classroom, except from Aaron, who lies his head on his desk like he’s having sleep withdrawal. He must have some seriously late nights. I haven’t talked to him yet, which is good, because I have no clue how to find out if he has powers.
Sweet,Kristen scribbles.No calculus.
Kristen, too, has yet to actually speak with Aaron.
Ten minutes later, we wait in gum-covered seats in the largest room our school has. The place is already packed, and the freshmen haven’t even arrived yet. The combination of sweat and hormones makes the air feel sticky.
“I can’t believe they’re trying to get us all to fit in here,” Kristen mutters. “This room is definitely not up to fire code.”
“Who do you think the speaker is?” I ask. Our school holds assemblies a few times a year, but they’re broken up by grade level, so we aren’t normally all in here at once. Assemblies usually involve a businesswoman outlining her ten tips for a successful morning routine or a comedian performing skits about how to turn down crystal meth. They’re also usually planned.
She scrunches her nose. “I hope it’s not more about that Dark Static guy. I think they’re blowing that ship way out of proportion.”
“He almost killed Dr. Milligan,” I say, shocked that those words had come from her. Kristen is always the first one toget a political debate started. It’s kind of her passion—she once started a “save the spiders” campaign to make people bring spiders outside instead of squishing them, although that one failed big time.
“He didn’t, though. D.S. could have, but he didn’t,” she replies.
I remember the first time I went to Kristen’s house. We were twelve, and Materio was still the preeminent Super in Capital City. Materio had just vanquished Poseida, a villain who threatened tsunamis if Capital City wouldn’t give her access to our treasuries, and Kristen had covered her room with newspapers, trying to prove that Poseida had been trying to help us all along. Kristen also decorated t-shirts alleging Poseida’s righteousness. She sold only one—to my dad.
Reflexively, I scan for Damian Scott Jr. There’s an empty seat next to Molly. Make that two empty seats: one for Damian and one for Fox.Where is everyone?I highly doubt they’ve all taken a magical quest to the bathroom at the same time.
My throat dries as anxiety seizes my thoughts.Did D.S. attack again? Is that why we’re having an assembly? Who did he hurt this time?
“I’m going to get some water,” I say to Kristen. “Save my seat, please.”
“I’ll guard it with my life.” She leans back and closes her eyes.
I climb over the students between me and the aisle and finally step out of the packed auditorium. Quiet air fills the hall. The closest drinking fountain is just around the corner, but I head in the opposite direction, walking a full lap around the auditorium, so the stuffiness from being too close to eight hundred other teenagers can wear off. Curving into the final turn, I stop—Holy Aces.
Literally.
The water fountain is a few feet away. Standing over it is Golden Ace. He wipes off his gilded spandex Supersuit.No freaking way.
Like Dark Static, Golden Ace’s mask conceals his face, and bulletproof fabric covers most of his skin. A sheepish smile forms beneath his mask. “Oh, sorry,” he says, “Am I blocking you?”
I hesitate. Then I realize he’s talking to me.
“Oh gosh, don’t worry about it,” I say. He steps sideways to make room for me, and I approach the drinking fountain of life. Of all the times I’ve dreamed about meetinghim, it’s never been by accident, and never in school.
A brown stain smears his suit, just to the left of his bellybutton. Golden Ace frantically dabs the spot with his finger.
I sip the cold water and instantly feel better. The dryness behind my throat fades, my brain works again, and my feet remember how to do their job. I glance at the Superhero.Is it a good idea to talk to him? Is that the normal thing to do? Would he hate it if I tried?
Then again, I’ve waited for five years to meet him. “That looks like a burrito stain,” I say.
Golden Ace sighs. “Yeah. I keep telling myself to quit eating when I wear this, but I still do. And nine times out of ten, this happens.”
“I, too, am a fan of burritos.” I say. “Soap usually helps me… And, sir, Mr. Gold?”How do I address him?“You’ll need a paper towel.”
“I’ve gotta go make a speech soon.” He studies the mark on his suit. “Figured I’d work on this thing for a few minutes and head in, stain or not.”
I attempt to hide my shock. “Golden Ace has a human side.” I can’t imagine D.S. being okay with a stain on his suit. Maybethat’s why he wears black, so the dirt—or blood—doesn’t show as easily.
“More than you would think.” Golden Ace continues to smudge the fabric. “I mean, here I am…” He tilts his head in my direction.
“Madeline,” I fill in.
