HSH: Hero Heist Chap 31-32
The Final Chapters
Chapter 31
Homecoming
I wasn’t able to stay awake after hearing the news about Smith and Quinn. Again, the drug they’d sedated me with, had to be something powerful. Despite the grogginess, I was still able to ask one more question before totally checking out.
“What did you do with Peter’s body?”
“It’s already on its way back to the States,” Abby said. “I’m going to tell his parents when we get back tomorrow night.”
Then as hard as I tried to fight it, I fell back into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.
I don’t know how they got me through security, but the next thing I knew I was sitting on a plane, in coach, in between Ethan and Savanah. My boyfriend stared out the window like a five year old watching the white fluffy clouds pass by. Savanah listened to her mp3 player with her eyes closed.
But when they felt me move, their attentions were instantly focused on me.
“Hey, you’re awake!” Ethan said—his powers of observation never ceased to amaze me.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Savanah pulled the earbuds from her ears and rolled the wire around the mp3 player. “Somewhere over the Atlantic.”
Ethan handed me a bottle of water. “Bought this in the airport for you. Abby said you’d need something to drink when you woke up.”
Seeing the water made me realize how thirsty I was. My tongue felt like sand, and that sand was running down my throat. I opened the bottle and drank greedily, finishing off half the liquid before coming up for air.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes again. Even though I must have slept for hours, I was still tired. “ I don’t suppose I was dreaming last night when you guys said Smith had gotten away.”
“Nope,” Savanah said. “He’s long gone.”
“The good news is you don’t have to worry about those explosive-thingys he put in you. When P… when you got shocked, they all shorted out.” Ethan sqeezed my hand as he said this, obviously as a way of comforting me.
I pulled my hand away. “Would you say his name? Say it! Say Peter!” I said. “We can’t keep avoiding his name. Say it so you don’t forget.”
“Okay,” Ethan responded. “Peter.”
There, we said it. Now the healing could begin.
“Where’s Abby?”
“The witch got herself a first class ticket.” Savanah sounded none-too-happy about this turn of events. “Stuck us back here to ride with the rest of the cattle.”
I didn’t mind being stuck in coach. All I cared about at this point was getting home.
“I half-expected Abby to come and check on us at some point during the flight, but we didn’t see any sign of her until we arrived at J.F.K. Airport in New York.
She was waiting for us inside the terminal as we exited the plane. “Come on, we have to get moving. Our connecting flight leaves in twenty-minutes.”
“Couldn’t spring for a direct flight, huh?” Savanah asked.
Abby ignored the question and started walking.
“Wait, can I call my parents first and let them know I’m coming home?” I asked.
“Already taken care of,” Abby told me as we walked to the new gate. “I called them last night and explained everything.”
Apparently “everything” meant the cover story. We had been doing a dig with Quinn when there was an accident. Several beams holding up the roof gave way and the tunnel collapsed on top of us. Apparently I was lucky to come out with only a broken wrist and a couple of bruises.
There was more to the story, but I got distracted as we passed a newsstand. I stopped and the others continued for a few steps before realizing I was no longer following.
There it sat, plain as day, the New York Times. Normally, a simple newspaper wouldn’t have distracted me, but I was on the cover. Yes, that’s right, me, on the cover of the New York Times. Two pictures—one of them in the Swiss Guard outfit, the other in my black mask—sat under the headline that read, “Black Angel—Savior or Menace”.
I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up and read further. When Abby came to stand beside me, all I could ask was, “This isn’t good, is it?”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” she answered. Then putting a hand on my shoulder, she guided me away from the newsstand. “We have to catch our plane.”
Thankfully, the ride from New York to Pittsburgh was short, and when we disembarked and found baggage claim, my parents were there waiting for me. Ethan and Savanah, thankfully had separated themselves from me and Abby.
I have no idea how much time had actually passed since the battle with Quinn, but I do have to say, when my mother pulled me into that worried/relieved, incredibly tight embrace, it felt like every one of my injuries was brand new. I winced, but my mother either didn’t notice or refused to let go.
“You are never leaving my sight again,” she squealed. “Every time you go anywhere, you get hurt.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that. I couldn’t even if I tried.
When my mother finally let me go, it was my father’s turn. At least he was more gentle, and didn’t make every nerve in my body feel like it was on fire.
“You had us so worried,” he said. “I’m so glad you weren’t in Rome.”
“There was a terrorist attack there yesterday,” my mother added. “They crashed a plane and everything.”
I let out a nervous laugh, but made no comment.
“Yes, we were far from the action, I’m glad to say,” Abby mentioned. “Mr. Quinn is sorry he couldn’t bring her back personally, but he has a lot to deal with, with the accident and all. But he sends his regrets.”
My dad shook her hand. “We’re glad our daughter’s home safe. Thank you for everything, Ms. Davidson.”
We got my bag and my parents took me to the car. My dad turned on the radio after we pulled out of our parking spot.
“And have you heard this story coming out of Rome?” the radio announcer said. “There are reports this supposed Black Angel may very well have foiled the terrorist plot. Instead of crashing into the airport terminal, as is officials initial theory of the intended target, it seems the angel guided the plane into a vacant hangar, where no one was injured.”
I shrank back into the back seat, my cheeks reddening in embarrassment as the announcer continued.
“We have the video up on our website, where you can clearly see someone jumping from the top of the plane, as it crashes into the hangar and explodes. This is truly an amazing thing to see.”
The man gave the website where people could view the video and opened up phone lines to hear his audience’s comments.
“Can you believe that?” my mother asked. “All these people thinking an angel saved them?”
“Sounds more like a superhero to me,” I commented. A mental slap followed for saying anything at all.
“You’ve been hanging around with Ethan too long,” my father said. “Superheroes. If only there were such a thing.”
“I’m so happy she was in Turin yesterday and not Rome,” my mother commented. “Can you imagine if Christine had been at that airport trying to come home?”
“Yeah… imagine.”
I tried not to listen as my parents talked about the Black Angel and the terrorists in Rome. I didn’t want to think about it. I would have been perfectly happy if no one ever mentioned this ill-fated trip again.
I would like to say this is where the story ends, however when I returned home, I realized it had only just begun.
When we walked in the door, we found my grandparents sitting and watching the news with Conner. Even they couldn’t be torn away from the Black Angel story. As soon as I stepped through the door, my grandfather gave me a look as if to say, “What were you thinking?”
My grandmother looked away from the news report long enough to greet me. “Hi, Christine. How was your trip?”
“Fine,” I lied. She wasn’t listening anyway.
She hadn’t even bothered to ask how my arm was, and if I was okay. It was strange, being ignored. But, at the same time, they were paying attention to me, only they didn’t know it.
My parents sat on the couch with my grandparents, all of them transfixed. I couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like it had happened here. It was half-a-world away—surely the incident didn’t require this much media attention.
Not wanting to watch it, I grabbed my luggage and said, “I’m going upstairs to unpack.”
As soon as I turned around and took one step, the sound on the television cut off. “Hold on a second, young lady.
Oh, this is bad. I could tell by hearing his tone. It was the kind of tone that said, “You’re in deep, deep, deeeeeeep trouble, Christine.”
I closed my eyes and turned around before opening them again. Oh yeah, I’m in trouble.
My mother and grandmother stared at me, jaws hung open with shock. My father scowled, his brow furrowed so much, his eyes were almost completely obscured by the shadow it formed. My grandfather continued with his, “What were you thinking?” look.
“Is there something you’d like to tell us?” My father pointed at the television, where he’d paused the live news report. I am so sending a threatening letter to the guy who invented DVR after this is over.
It was a close-up of my face, covered by my mask. Though the mask covered the top half of my face and would fool the average person, anyone who knew me would have no trouble recognizing me—not from that close anyway.
My first reaction was to act confused. Then, I thought about denying the whole thing. I could always claim the whole evil twin thing. My mother and grandmother enjoyed enough soap operas to actually believe it. But, I figured, what was the point? I’d been found out. It was time to come clean.
“Okay,” I said. “But you’ve gotta promise not to freak out.”
**********
Well, my parents took it better than expected. Not that they took it all that well. As a matter of fact, I think when I mentioned I could fly and read minds, the words actually took ten years off my father’s life. Then he turned a sickly shade of white when I proved it.
I told them everything: when I discovered my powers, what I could do, what really happened at the school the day of the fire, what really happened in New York, and what really happened on my latest adventure in Italy. I even told them about Ethan, Savanah, Peter, Abby and Quinn. The only piece I didn’t mention was my grandfather. He’d asked me to keep his secret, and I would.
My grandfather remained silent through much of my talking, his arms crossed over his chest, as if disappointed in me. It wasn’t until my parents asked the big question when he finally chimed in.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” my mother asked.
“You know you can talk with us about anything, Christine,” my father added, turning even paler by the second. “Even this.”
“That would be my fault,” my grandfather said before I could answer. I let out a sigh of relief. “I told Christine not to say anything to you. Neither of us knew how you would react?”
“She told you?” my father asked. He looked at his father with such raw anger, I thought he might actually get up and hit him. “Dad, how could you condone this? What if she’d gotten hurt?”
My grandfather held up his hands as if in surrender. “Oh, I’ve told her time and again she shouldn’t be gallivanting off, looking for trouble.” He looked my father dead in the eye. “Besides, what would you have said if I told you your little girl was flying around in spandex, acting like a vigilante?”
The words seemed to subdue my dad, who no longer appeared as if her were about to perform patricide.
“Christine and I share a bond,” my grandfather continued. “She feels she can share things with me that she can’t share with anyone else. Understand that she has been helped through these troubling times by someone who loves and cares for her a great deal. Take comfort in it.”
“Why you, Frank?” my grandmother asked. She was less upset by what I’d been doing and more upset that I’d confided in my grandfather and not her.
He hesitated answering. It looked as if he was going to say something several times, but each time thought better of it. I couldn’t blame him. This was a secret he’d kept for nearly seventy years, and once the words came out of his mouth, there would be no undoing them. “I think the only one who could answer that question is Christine.”
Great, put all the pressure on me.
All eyes were on me at that point, even Conner seemed interested in what I had to say.
Did he want me to lie for him? Or did he want me to tell them? I looked him in the eye to see if he would give me the answer. No answer came. I didn’t know what I should do.
“Well…”
There was a knock at the door, cutting off any further conversation. Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief—at least I had a few seconds to think up what I was going to say. Any break in the tension was very welcome.
Or so I thought.
“Don’t move,” my father grunted. He rose and went to the door.
He swung it open violently, his anger getting the better of him. The knob banged into the wall, putting a dent into the sheetrock.
“What do you… Oh, I’m sorry.”
He backed away from the door and an officer stepped inside. He held a badge out for all to see, but dressed in a nice shirt and pants. For a second, I thought it might be an Agent, here to silence me for spilling secrets. It turned out, he was from the Pittsburgh Police Department. And he wasn’t alone.
Two other men stepped through the door behind him, similarly dressed, but hands resting on their guns. There were three more squad cars sitting in front of the house. Several officers could be seen through the window, dressed in the typical black uniform of the Pittsburgh Police, approaching the house.
Again, I feared for myself. They had to be here because they ran my face through some database and found out I was involved in the Roman airport fiasco. They had to be here to take me in for questioning.
Wrong again.
“I’m sorry to bother you sir,” the lead officer said politely, “but we’re looking for Frank Carpenter.”
My father, trying to look over the officer’s shoulder to see the action taking place outside, asked, “What’s this all about?”
All politeness left the officer, and he too glanced over my father’s shoulder at our gathered family. “Is Frank Carpenter here?”
My father purposely blocked his line of sight. “I’m not answering any questions until you tell me what you’re doing here. Why are there so many officers on my lawn?”
“Tell me where Frank Carpenter is, or I’ll have you arrested for impeding a police investigation.”
“It’s fine, Larry,” my grandfather said to my father, rising from the couch. “I’m Frank Carpenter. What’s the problem?”
The officer pushed my father out of the way and walked straight to my grandfather. “I have a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Carpenter.” He produced a pair of handcuffs.
If my grandfather was at all surprised by this statement, it didn’t show.
“Frank, what’s he talking about?” my grandmother wailed.
I grabbed Conner from her, fearing she would drop him, as she rushed over to my grandfather’s side.
“It’s okay, Sandra,” he told her.
“My grandmother wasn’t listening. She strategically placed herself between the officer and my grandfather. With her being half the officer’s size, it made for a pretty pitiful display.
He moved passed her as easily as he had my father, and grabbed my grandfather. “Frank Carpenter, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stephenson.”
“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping Conner myself. “He couldn’t have!”
Then Quinn’s words echoed through my head. If you’re really eager to find the Stephenson’s killer, I suggest looking a little closer to home.
My protests were echoed by the rest of my family.
“My father’s not a murderer!”
“He never hurt anyone!”
“You have the wrong man!”
Everyone was yelling at the officer—everyone, that is, except my grandfather. He stood, head bowed and silent, his hands extended in front of him for the officer to cuff.
How could he do that? He was innocent. He had to prove it. He shouldn’t walk away with this policeman to be locked in a cell. My grandfather couldn’t kill anyone!
As the officer tried to put the metal cuffs on my grandfather’s wrists, I nudged the man’s arm so he’d miss. His arm swung down awkwardly since he’d expected to contact my grandfather’s flesh.
Grandpa Carpenter looked at me, knowing what I’d done. He shook his head slightly and sent a simple message. Don’t. I’ve been expecting this.
No! Don’t let them!
The officer, a little confused for a second, quickly decided my grandfather had moved to make him look foolish. He slapped the cuff on one wrist this time, wrapping my grandfather’s arms behind his back before binding the other wrist.
The three officers then lead him out of the house, followed by the rest of my family. By now, all of our neighbors were out in the street, watching the events and wondering what was going on.
“Christine, don’t you leave this house. Watch Conner,” my mother shouted as she went out the door to help my father and grandmother plead my grandfather’s innocence.
But was he innocent? He said he’d been expecting this, and Quinn had said to search closer to home. Did that mean my grandfather really had killed Savanah’s grandparents? If he had, then why? I had to find out, but now wasn’t the time as my family fought to get passed the line of officers to stop my grandfather from being put in the back of a squad car.
I couldn’t stand. I collapsed on the couch. What was I going to do? Every time I think things can’t possibly get any worse, they do.
What happened Grandpa? a tiny voice filled my head.
Normally, the voice in my head didn’t squeak so much, and it spoke in proper English. So, I knew the voice hadn’t come from my own head. But there was no one else in the room with me except for…
Conner? I asked mentally.
The little boy giggled. His eyes focused on me. Silly sissy.
Oh, this is soooo not what I need right now.
He giggled again, then stuck his tongue out at me.
All I could think was, I’m going to kill Quinn if I ever see him again.
Chapter 32
Junior Year
The rest of my summer was dreadfully boring. Thankfully, the whole situation with my grandfather distracted my parents enough that they didn’t think questioning me about my powers was a priority any longer.
My grandmother had moved in with us in a more permanent way, while we waited for my grandfather to go to trial. They set his trial date for the beginning of October, which I hear is rather speedy in today’s legal system. My grandmother went to the prison to see my grandfather three times a week. I went with her the first couple of times, but he seemed rather distant and cold toward me every time, so I stopped going.
I didn’t know what to believe anymore. No matter what, I couldn’t picture my grandfather as a killer, but the more I heard about his arrest, the less I could deny the possibility he had actually done it. They found his DNA underneath the Stephenson’s fingernails, and traces of his blood were found nearby. What the police had first thought of as a wild bear attack, now pointed more and more toward my grandfather.
I was kind of surprised that Savanah still talked to me. She seemed to have more faith in my grandfather than I did at this point. “Someone’s obviously framing him,” she said. “It’s probably Quinn.”
I wanted to believe her, but she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen my grandfather leave with them, acting like a guilty man.
Conner’s sudden ability to read minds and speak mentally also had me worried. I had Abby bring in a team to check him out. They couldn’t detect anything abnormal about him, other than the same genetic markers that gave me my abilities. I couldn’t help but believe his sudden use of powers had something to do with Quinn’s blood test though.
But by far, the hardest thing I had to do that summer was attend Peter’s funeral.
Only the first few rows of the church were filled. The casket was closed, which I thought was wrong. It was the thing Peter had feared the most, being inside a closed casket. I know the thoughts were irrational, but I wanted desperately to open it up so he wouldn’t be frightened anymore.
His mother was a wreck. I’d only met her once, back in February. She’d seemed like such a nice, pleasant woman then. Now, she was nothing but a broken woman, completely empty of happiness.
Peter had a little brother who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. I never knew he had a brother. The little boy didn’t understand what was going on, and kept asking his mother when Peter would wake up. Each time he did, his mother’s sobs grew louder.
Only a few people showed up from our school. Me, Ethan and Savanah were the first to arrive, but Tiffany, Sam and Samantha soon followed us in. I could tell Samantha didn’t really want to be there, but at least she was respectful enough not to throw any insults in my direction. The only other people I recognized there were Brian Falkner, from our chemistry class, and Wesley Holton, one of Peter’s skateboarding friends. Mr. Philmore also attended, but sat in the back row, away from everyone else.
Ethan had been a little off lately, I think it had a lot to do with my spending so much time with Klaus in Rome. I never did tell him what had gone on between us, and with Klaus an ocean away, I didn’t feel the need to. I would gain Ethan’s trust again, and telling him about a simple kiss I shared with another guy I had no feelings for, would only ruin that.
A priest stood before us, in front of the casket and led us in a prayer. “We are gathered here to say farewell to Peter Michael Perkins and to commit him into the hands of God.”
I couldn’t pay attention. I wanted to, but at this point, I was nothing but a sack full of tears, and my eyes were two giant, leaking holes. It was all my fault Peter was dead. If only I’d been stronger. If only I’d not hurt him all those months ago. If only I hadn’t trusted Quinn as much as I had. I couldn’t take it.
If only I’d given into the madman.
“God, we thank you for the life that you give us. It is full of work and of responsibility, of sorrow and joy. Today we thank you for Peter, for what he has given and received.”
He continued on for a while, talking about how we are all destined to leave the Earth eventually and ascend to heaven to be at God’s side. And as much as I wanted to be comforted by these words, I couldn’t find any peace within them. Every time I thought about it, all I could see was Quinn twisting his neck around and snuffing out that existence too early. How could that be destiny? How could anyone even think that a senseless murder could be part of some greater being’s grand scheme?
When Peter’s mother got up to give the eulogy, face covered with wet tears, I had to leave.
“Christine?” Ethan whispered as I walked down the aisle. I ignored him and left the building. I waited outside for the service to be over.
It should have been me lying there. Quinn should have killed me instead of him. Why did he let me live? He should have killed me as soon as he figured out I wasn’t going to play his game, not toy with me and use the lives of others as pawns in his evil game of chess.
Fifteen minutes later, everyone filed out of the church. Mr. Philmore stopped next to me long enough to offer his condolences before getting into his convertible and driving off.
“Chris,” Ethan said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I admitted.
“We can go home. We don’t have to go to see him buried.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Savanah, can you get Chris’ car? I’ll drive us back.”
“Wait,” I said. “I still have to say goodbye.”
I waited until everyone left the building, and then reentered.
The church was now empty, other than the priest who’d offered the prayer and a man in a dark suit.
“The hearse is running a few minutes behind,” the man said. “We’ll move the casket as soon as it arrives.”
“Good,” the priest said. “I’ll tell the family we’ll be a few more minutes until we leave for the cemetery.”
Then, they both left the room, leaving me completely alone.
Slowly, I stepped up to the casket. I fidgeted a while, not knowing what to say, or if I should even say anything. After about a minute of standing there, feeling like a fool, my mouth spewed out words.
“I don’t know what to say, Pete. I don’t even know if you can hear me. I know when you died, you said you hated me, but somewhere deep inside you, I hope you know I was your friend. I’ve never been very good at making friends, and I know you were the same way. But who would have ever thought a skating punk and a goth chick could hit it off like we did?
“I blame myself for what happened between us, and I want you to know how sorry I am for it. Yes, I knew what Quinn had done to you, making you forget, and I always wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you’d react just like you did. I didn’t want to lose you, Pete. But now, I can’t help but think if I had opened my mouth months ago, this wouldn’t have ever happened.
“I know you can’t say anything, but I’m begging for your forgiveness. You need to understand I never meant for any of this to happen.”
I stopped, looking at the closed casket and thinking again about how his greatest fear was becoming a reality again. True, Peter wasn’t being buried alive, but he was still in a cold, dark casket about to be put under the Earth. But I couldn’t bring myself to push aside the flowers laying atop the coffin and opening it up for him.
“I guess this is goodbye,” I said. “But I promise you one thing. I will see Quinn brought to justice if it’s the last thing I do. Goodbye, Pete. I hope wherever you are, it’s a better place than this.”
I kissed my hand and lay it atop the casket. Then I turned and walked out of the church.
Ethan, Savanah and I went back to my house and we hung out, telling stories about Peter and the good times we’d shared with him. They stayed until pretty late that night—thankfully my parents understood. When they finally left, well after midnight, I went up to my room.
I flopped down in bed, but couldn’t sleep. I was angry—at myself mostly—and now I didn’t even have my grandfather to confide in.
Opening up my closet, I slipped on my costume, threw on my mask and flew out my window. Alone that night, I nabbed four would-be criminals. Two young teens tried to break into a car on Grant Street in Pittsburgh and another pair, much older made an attempt to hold up the 7-11 in Bigelow Square. In both cases, I pounded on them with my powers until they gave up, then unceremonially dropped them on the stairs of the nearest precinct with a simple note:
Courtesy of the Black Angel.
And that’s how the legend began. At first, it was a way to let out my frustrations. I would let loose my powers on those who deserved it and it would make me feel better—for a little while. But the pain would always return and I would need to find someone else to pound on.
The rest of the summer flew by, and before I knew it, September was here again and it was time to begin school. The newspapers reported in the month of August alone there were no less than fifty criminals brought to justice by the Black Angel.
I couldn’t take all the credit though, after news got out of those first few night’s adventures, Ethan and Savanah were more than eager to help. We were the super-team Ethan had always dreamed of. Using our powers for the good of mankind.
Until, of course, that first bell of the fall semester rang.
“Carpenter, Christine,” Mrs. Steinbrenner, my new World History teacher called first period.
I waved my hand casually, not really paying attention to her. Who cared about school anyway, when there were bad guys out there that needed a walloping.
Ethan sat next to me, and whispered in my ear. “I heard she’s like the hardest history teacher in the school. You better pay attention or you’re gonna fail.”
All I cared about that day was getting my schedule, seeing what my classes were, then going home, getting my costume on and going flying around.
At least things had gotten back to normal with me and Ethan. Over the last couple of weeks it was like our trip to Italy had never even happened. By the time we’d stepped back into our hallowed halls of education, we were as inseparable as we had been when we’d left.
I shared two classes with Ethan, my first period, history, and my last, gym. It seemed this year Ethan was going to see what a horrible athlete I really was. We also had lunch together, along with Tiffany, Sam and Savanah. It felt like old times.
We found our table immediately, and sat, leaving one seat empty for our missing friend.
“So, how was everyone’s summer?” Tiffany asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you guys in, like, forever. I had a great summer. My family went to Vancouver. I’ve never been to Vancouver before, but it’s a really cool city. They put gravy on their fries there instead of ketchup. And boy are they into hockey. We stopped in Seattle while we were there. Did you know Seattle is only like forty miles from Vancouver? It’s weird, right?”
“Tiffany,” I said, interrupting her. “Take a breath. Jeez, you saw us all last week.”
“I know, but I’m so excited.”
I didn’t see anything to be excited about. With all the problems I was having, and everything I’d have to deal with in the coming months, like finding the shroud and cross, my grandfather’s trial, figuring out what Quinn did to Conner, stopping Smith from creating an army. There couldn’t be an upside to anything.
“Tiff,” Ethan said, “we all heard about your trip to Canada. I think you need to get some new stories.” He laughed, and everyone but me joined.
Without missing a beat, Tiffany continued. “Well, it’s over between me and Ryan.”
“Oh, he broke up with you?” I asked.
“No. I dumped him. He was just too boring, all he ever wanted to do was hang in his room and play video games.” She looked around the table at each of us and laughed. “I’ll tell you, I’m through with boys. They’re nothing but a headache.”
“Hey!” Sam said in mock-offense.
Everyone but me laughed again.
He squeezed my hand and turned on me. “Come on, Chris. Cheer up. Everything’s going to work out. You’ll see.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “You’ve been in a funk all summer. We’re back in school now. Time to take your mind off things a while.”
“Yeah, Loser,” Savanah added. “We’ve got your back. Just trust us and live a little.”
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Ethan said, turning away from me. “Superman and the Hulk. Who would win in a fight?”
“Which Hulk?” Sam asked.
“Green.”
“Oh, Superman all the way,” I said.
“No way,” Savanah argued. “The more Superman pounded on him the angrier Hulk would get. And when Hulk get mad, Hulk get strong!” She pounded the table to emphasize her point and we all laughed. Maybe they were right. Maybe I really needed to take my mind off things.
And then, the last nail was put into the proverbial coffin.
The empty seat reserved for Peter was taken and all eyes turned to the newcomer. Tiffany’s heart fluttered as she saw him, and she was already picturing this cute boy asking her out on a date.
Sam looked at him, wondering what the boy was doing there. “That seat’s taken,” he said to the newcomer.
Ethan stared at him with a contemptuous glare. Savanah’s gaze was indifferent.
With his spiked hair and plain white t-shirt and jeans, the boy paid no attention to Sam and looked at me. “Vell, are you going to velcome the new exchange student to the school?”
He’s lucky I didn’t punch him.
Like what you’ve read? Thought this is the end of the Hero Heist arc for our story, this isn’t the end for Christine and her friends. We will start our next arc Heroes’ Burden soon! Stay with us and enjoy the fun!
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