bunny. “You.” Her voice burns with pure rage and her hands are shaking. “You did this. It’s not bad enough that you had to come stay here with us and go to school with me and embarrass me in front of my friends! You have to take my stuff and destroy it, you sick freak, and then hide it in my bed for me to find!” Amelia takes a deep breath and looks to Gordon for help. “Dad, why did you have to bring him here?” She’s nearly in tears.
Gordon doesn’t bother answering her, turning his attention to me instead. His tone is calm but accusing. “Damien, I understand if you’re having trouble adjusting, but there’s no reason to take that out on your sister.”
“Uh … sorry to disappoint both of you, but I didn’t do it.” This is what I have to look forward to in a house full of superheroes. Every time something goes wrong, they blame the villain.
“You’re lying!” Amelia shouts, and she’s actually crying now. “I’ve had Blue Bunnykins forever . Dad gave him to me for Easter when I was three, and you murdered him!”
“I thought you didn’t approve of kids’ toys? And, like I said, I didn’t do it.” I clearly enunciate the word didn’t , in case she’s hard of hearing, as she seems to be. And if I had done it, I wouldn’t have hidden it in her bed, as that would involve going upstairs.
She scoffs. “Why should I believe you?” She shakes her head before I can answer, glares at Gordon, and then stomps her way back up to the attic.
“Damien,” Gordon says, once she’s gone, “you should apologize to your sister.”
“Half sister, and what for? Some superhero you are if you can’t tell I’m innocent. How many other innocent parties have you put in jail just for having V s on their thumbs? That’s kind of letterist.”
“Whether you did it or not, she’s obviously upset, and an apology from you would help smooth things over and make this transition easier for both of you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Maybe you should wait until tomorrow, when she’s calmed down some.”
I ignore him and pretend I didn’t hear that little bit of idiocy. Apologizing for something I had nothing to do with? Not going to happen. I clear my throat. “As I was saying before the interruption, I like villainy, and I like things how they were before you dragged me here. I want to be accepted by other supervillains. I want to go to Vilmore. I want a supervillain girlfriend. You know what they say: supervillains have more fun.” I lean in close and stage whisper, “It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve had both—you can tell me.”
Gordon stands up, flailing his arms in frustration. “This conversation is over.”
“Good. I’ll still be wearing my gloves and hiding my X.” And wearing my new thumbprint, when it arrives. I should probably have it sent to Mom’s house, since the prints are custom made and take four to six weeks for delivery. I’m sure I’ll be back home before then. At this rate, it’s not going to take long to prove I’m not a hero.
“We’ll discuss it more later, but in the meantime, I want you to think about something. Other people’s actions might not determine what letter they get, but yours will. You’ve got options. You could be accepted by either heroes or villains, depending on the choices you make. I just hope you make the right ones.”
Sarah comes to school the next day wearing a gigantic pair of sci-fi-looking goggles. They’re attached to a big metal helmet she has strapped onto her head. She looks like she meant to dress up as a robot but forgot the rest of her costume. The “goggles” part looks more like the eyepieces from some high-tech pair of binoculars, and they extend a couple inches from her head.
I hear people yelling “Freak!” in the hall before she comes into math class. When she walks through the door, people giggle, and one person erupts in a snorting fit. Marty and Jill come in behind her.
Marty shoves Sarah out of his way.
Gordon doesn’t bother answering her, turning his attention to me instead. His tone is calm but accusing. “Damien, I understand if you’re having trouble adjusting, but there’s no reason to take that out on your sister.”
“Uh … sorry to disappoint both of you, but I didn’t do it.” This is what I have to look forward to in a house full of superheroes. Every time something goes wrong, they blame the villain.
“You’re lying!” Amelia shouts, and she’s actually crying now. “I’ve had Blue Bunnykins forever . Dad gave him to me for Easter when I was three, and you murdered him!”
“I thought you didn’t approve of kids’ toys? And, like I said, I didn’t do it.” I clearly enunciate the word didn’t , in case she’s hard of hearing, as she seems to be. And if I had done it, I wouldn’t have hidden it in her bed, as that would involve going upstairs.
She scoffs. “Why should I believe you?” She shakes her head before I can answer, glares at Gordon, and then stomps her way back up to the attic.
“Damien,” Gordon says, once she’s gone, “you should apologize to your sister.”
“Half sister, and what for? Some superhero you are if you can’t tell I’m innocent. How many other innocent parties have you put in jail just for having V s on their thumbs? That’s kind of letterist.”
“Whether you did it or not, she’s obviously upset, and an apology from you would help smooth things over and make this transition easier for both of you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Maybe you should wait until tomorrow, when she’s calmed down some.”
I ignore him and pretend I didn’t hear that little bit of idiocy. Apologizing for something I had nothing to do with? Not going to happen. I clear my throat. “As I was saying before the interruption, I like villainy, and I like things how they were before you dragged me here. I want to be accepted by other supervillains. I want to go to Vilmore. I want a supervillain girlfriend. You know what they say: supervillains have more fun.” I lean in close and stage whisper, “It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve had both—you can tell me.”
Gordon stands up, flailing his arms in frustration. “This conversation is over.”
“Good. I’ll still be wearing my gloves and hiding my X.” And wearing my new thumbprint, when it arrives. I should probably have it sent to Mom’s house, since the prints are custom made and take four to six weeks for delivery. I’m sure I’ll be back home before then. At this rate, it’s not going to take long to prove I’m not a hero.
“We’ll discuss it more later, but in the meantime, I want you to think about something. Other people’s actions might not determine what letter they get, but yours will. You’ve got options. You could be accepted by either heroes or villains, depending on the choices you make. I just hope you make the right ones.”
Sarah comes to school the next day wearing a gigantic pair of sci-fi-looking goggles. They’re attached to a big metal helmet she has strapped onto her head. She looks like she meant to dress up as a robot but forgot the rest of her costume. The “goggles” part looks more like the eyepieces from some high-tech pair of binoculars, and they extend a couple inches from her head.
I hear people yelling “Freak!” in the hall before she comes into math class. When she walks through the door, people giggle, and one person erupts in a snorting fit. Marty and Jill come in behind her.
Marty shoves Sarah out of his way.
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