Page 39 of No Capes
“We rarely have Supers who set mayors’ houses on fire,” says Kristen. “Literally lighting a fire under them. What a mess.”
This is what Phil hired Dark Static to do,I realize. Phil wants to make the public hate the lightning Super.
Kristen slams her locker shut. “We’re still on for this afternoon?Après ma dètention, I mean.” She makes a face and I don’t blame her. If I had detention as often as she does, I’d do anything to escape. Of course, shecouldshow up to school on time.
“Sorry, what are we doing?” I blink, trying to remember what she planned.
Arielle usually cancels our afternoon practice on the days after swim meets to give us a break. We still have our morning practice, though. No one would ever accuse Arielle of being too lenient.
“You’re coming to see my dress? For Hallowfest?”
“Oh, yeah. Wait, you didn’t make one for me, right?” Every year, Kristen designs her own dress for Hallowfest, but she likes to get a second opinion on it before the debut. I would not be surprised if she blackmailed me into being her date at the last minute. I love Mr. and Mrs. Smithson, but they can go to desperate lengths to appease the upper echelon of Capital City’s social scene, including by making Kristen bring a date.
“I’m taking Aaron so you’re officially off the hook.”
My heart skips faster. “Swim team Aaron?” Who may or may not be Dark Static? “Since when?”
“I know, right?” She grins. “At the meet yesterday, Fox was bragging about Damian throwing a pre-Hallowfest party, and Aaron mentioned how cool it would be to attend the big shindig, so I asked him. So there, Fox.”
So there, Fox.
“Come over later. I’ll make brownies. It’ll be fun, I swear.” She blows me a kiss and runs to Mr. Tills’ classroom for her daily detainment.
“M’kay bye…” I twist the combination dial on my locker, wait for it to click, and pry open the door to find something unusual: a paper note—on white printer paper—stuffed on top of my junk pile.
As I lift it, I discover this note has not, in fact, been written in barely legible handwriting, nor was it signed by D.S. Instead it reads:
Madeline—
I’ll be at the pool after school today, and I’d like to work on strokes. Hope you’ll come.
—Aaron
Seriously? What has prompted Aaron to communicate with someone? Also, the last time we worked on strokes was totally not fun. Why does he still want to practice? Shouldn’t he be tuxedo shopping?
Why is he leaving notes in my locker? Is this Dark Static’s way of confirming that he and Aaron are the same person after all?
“Secret admirer?” Someone approaches from the nearly deserted senior hallway. I shove the note into my grody backpack and turn to find Fox.
Fox wears a soft sweater and faded jeans like he’s being paid to model them. His hair is so perfectly messed up that he either gelled it that way on purpose or hadn’t bothered to brush his hair this morning. Damian and Molly, his after-school posse, are nowhere in sight.
On reflex, I fold my arms protectively across my chest, half bracing myself for having a water balloon thrown at me, like he orchestrated a year ago, the last time he visited my locker after school.Not cool, Fox.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I say. “Aaron wants to go over his strokes with me.”
“Texting’s too normal. I get it. The third member of Lane Awesomeisquite the mystery. I’m offended I didn’t score an invite.” Hints of a laugh inflect his answer. He’s not offended at all.
“Are you saying you want the extra practice?”
“Nah. Don’t need it. But y’all knock yourselves out.”
“Thanks.”
Fox starts walking down the hall, then spins on his heel, changing his mind. “Need a ride?”
What? “Um…” Was this some kind of trick?
“It’s a ride, not a marriage proposal.” His emerald eyes hold a teasing glint. “C’mon.”
