Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a Supervillain (6 page)

Forget cafeteria pizza. They brought ours to the table, with the fluffy, dark brown crust and the pepperoni slices curling up on top of the cheese, and I grabbed the first slice and stuffed it in my face. It was greasy, but not grease. Hot cheese, greasy, full of flavor, with a sharply spicy sauce.

“I’m really proud of you, Pumpkin,” Dad told me after a couple of measly bites. I reached for my second slice.

I glanced up at Mom.

“Three Pumpkins, two Princesses,” she recited.

And that was just since I got out of school. Once I made a deposit in my bank account, I’d be buying the Candy Chainsaw expansion pack to Teddy Bears and Machine Guns this weekend. That was a pretty good bonus reward.

“I’m serious, Penny,” Dad went on, all stubborn. “Every parent in the community wonders whether they do or don’t want their children inheriting their powers. It’s a dangerous, crazy life, sometimes.” I shot a glance up at Mom. Yeah, she had that wistful look too. “I’ve asked myself that question more than once in the last year, but, when I looked at the mechanisms in your little creation there, I felt so proud I thought I would explode. I know it’s going to hurt waiting four years for your power to really emerge, but when it does it’s going to be something else.”

“Until then, you’ll have to be patient. Like the other Birds And Bees speech, you can’t rush this. It will happen in its own time,” Mom added. They’d switched roles, and now she was the designated Bad Cop.

I bit into another slice of pizza. So good! So good! Was it any wonder this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant was where superheroes went for their pizza?

Speaking of which, I gaped as a suit of shiny brown armor hit the sidewalk. I wasn’t alone. Yeah, the superheroes ate here, but in costume?

And Mech himself?

Mr. Grigoryan had to slap his workers around to get them moving again. I could have used a slap myself as Mech entered the store, walked right up to our table, took off his helmet, and told me, “I hear there’s a new mad scientist in LA. Welcome to the brotherhood, sister.” And he winked at me.

I was going to fall out of my chair. I couldn’t feel my butt. And he took off his helmet! Yes, the goggles and the flight suit underneath with all the metal to fit into the suit were nearly as good as a mask, but it was still a risk.

I should have protested that mad scientists are villains, but if Mech and my Dad both used the term…

Dad just couldn’t let me enjoy it. “Tell the rumor mill they’re jumping the gun, Mech. Penny’s powers showed themselves rather spectacularly today, but it’s only a flash. She won’t be one of us for a few years.”

Bah.

“Those few years will disappear, Brian. Be ready for it. So, what did you make?” Mech looked at me again!

I held up my wrist. Then I felt like an idiot, so I told The Machine, “Uncurl.” It didn’t. I’d have to restart it.

“Artificial life and a perpetual motion machine in one go,” Mom filled in. Now she looked pleased. Both of my parents did. Proud.

“I can’t figure out how it works. It appears to eat ambient energy to keep moving and stores it in a nine-volt battery, of all things. It isn’t even electrical. The actual method of operation is a mystery,” Dad explained.

Mom flashed a whimsical smile. “And it crank starts.”

Yes, I’d had to grab it and twist it around, feeling it grind reluctantly until it picked up speed and came to life. Uncurling, The Machine climbed up onto my upraised hand and reared up facing Mech.

“May I?” Mech asked me, personally.

“Absolutely.”

I knew I blushed. I sounded like an idiot fan girl. It’s just that Mech was talking to me, and he’d taken off his helmet, and, even with the gold mask of the flight suit, he had a jaw that rounded down in a way that was almost pretty, and his dark skin (Indian, maybe? I didn’t know him out of the suit) and his black eyes ….

Get a grip, Penny. Get it fast. Mech is just the top of the game. Smart, powerful, dedicated. When those aliens with the drone army attacked, Mech was one of the heroes who went out to destroy their warp gate.

Actually, as a superhero’s daughter, I was one of the very few non-heroes who even knew that had happened, and I was in the process of “superhero.”

He had a thousand idiot fan girls, but treated me with respect regardless. While my brain raced, he picked up The Machine.

I heard a nasty scraping noise, like metal fingernails on a blackboard. It came from The Machine. What the frog? Was it chewing on the thumb of Mech’s suit?

“Stop that!” I scolded. It went still.

“Voice commands, no identifiable power source, and it’s packed with gearwork. I’m impressed. The first thing we invent is often our greatest creation. Your father has warned you about that?” Mech asked, peeking up from squinting into The Machine’s open panels. They were convenient for showing off, but it looked half-built with a casing only on some of its segments.

“Yeah,” I answered. Was absolutely everyone going to try and give me the speech?

No, he was going another direction. He gave me a warm smile, and he looked impressed. He really looked impressed. “If the rest of your inventions are only half as brilliant as this, I look forward to adding some of them to my armor.”

I laid my hands carefully on the table and tried not to geek out. Sitting on them would have been safer, but more obvious.

Dad smirked. “Throwing me over for the younger model, Mech?”

“I wouldn’t even be in the same league I am without your additions, Brian. All I invented was the armor,” Mech assured my Dad, giving him that warm smile now.

“Which I still can’t replicate. As efficient and adjustable as it is, you could go to anyone for weapon systems,” Dad answered in the same tone.

“Mech, how is Marvelous?” Mom inquired, slipping into the mutual congratulations.

“I got her a sample of dragon blood this morning. The real stuff, not a mutated super science lizard. She believes with that she can break the curse.”

“Dragon blood might help. Dragon genetics makes guppies look simple. Their blood is full of so many unusual enzymes, I’ve seen it spontaneously induce super-powered mutations,” Dad mused. Me, Mech, and Mom all had the same expression. Dad would fight to his last breath to describe magic as anything but magic.

“Where did you get real dragon blood?” Mom asked.

“From Malachi. Are you aware of another dragon who isn’t deep in hiding?” Mech replied. There was definitely a sardonic element in his tone.

“How did he take it?” Mom asked back, with the same tone.

“I need Brian to replace the shield supercharger, that’s how he took it,” Mech answered her.

They were drifting into superhero shop talk, which could be pretty cool, except I didn’t know anything about Malachi and I didn’t get the joke. It would only get worse from here. Anyway, I wanted to play with The Machine, now that I’d woken it up, but Mech was still holding it in his hands.

I reached down into Mom’s briefcase and pulled out a paperclip. I couldn’t play with The Machine, but paperclips had potential. They stored energy in tension well, like they were waiting to be springs. There was a lot you could do with that. I just had to twist, and twist, and use the edge of the table to make a sharp kink there, and I set the paperclip down on the table and watched it walk half a dozen steps before it fell over.

What…?

I picked up the paperclip, or at least the thing I’d made out of a paperclip. I’d made a thing out of a paperclip. My parents hadn’t noticed, but I could show them right now. I set it down to walk again, and it fell over. Oh, right, the tension had wound down, and I… had no idea how to reset it.

So much for showing anyone.

Wait! Dad told me it would be months before I had another flash like this. It had only been a few hours. My parents were expecting it to be years before my powers emerged properly.

My parents were in for a big surprise, very soon.

he next morning, or technically noon, I sat down at lunch with Ray; Claire was hardly a heartbeat behind us. I’d had just enough time to give them headshakes until now.

Claire laid her lunch box on the table with a clink. “So what’s the word?”

“‘Inscrutable?’“ Ray suggested.

“Did your Mom tell anyone I got my powers?” I asked Claire. The tone of accusation went right out of me when she unpacked her lunch and passed me her turkey pot pie. Where did a woman like The Minx, who never had to be domestic, learn to cook like this?

“Anyone? Everyone! And then I got home and they’re calling her back saying you don’t have your powers after all,” Claire filled in, cutting her lump of fried potato hash in half and slipping it to Ray.

“I’m fairly certain I remember standing there for half an hour while you giggled and your hands moved like lightning. That seemed a touch superpower-y to me.” Ray tried to look serious, but his voice cracked and couldn’t hold the deadpan.

“It’s a little of both. I’ve got super powers, but they’re not here yet. They’re just hinting at what they’ll be,” I replied, then took a bite of the pot pie before I had to speak again. It wasn’t pizza, but the crust was nice and fluffy and bready and blended perfectly with the chewy turkey. Even cold, it was good stuff.

“Ah, a super-powered adolescence. I’ve heard that happens.” Ray was much better at keeping the disappointment off his face, but now the noncommittal solemnity betrayed him.

“Mom’s happened all at once. She said it was scary, but it got her out of all the trouble it got her into. What timeline did your folks give you?” Claire asked.

“They said a year to four years. They meant four years minimum. I could tell,” I answered.

Claire and Ray looked at me. Apparently my poker face sucks, too. I had to go on. I hunkered closer and lowered my voice. “They’re wrong. I had a second episode while we were eating dinner. Just a little tiny one, but if it’s really going to be years that wouldn’t happen.” I might keep this secret from my folks, but there was no way I wasn’t sharing it with my best friends.

“So what are we looking at?” Claire pressed.

“Dunno. If they keep happening, maybe days? A week? I’m betting no longer than by summer,” I non-answered. I wished I had a real answer.

Claire frowned. “Six months would be a long time to wait.”

“I don’t know. I’m looking forward to six months of random super-science inventions,” Ray countered.

“That sounds fun for us, but the guessing is going to kill Penny,” Claire told him.

“I’ve got a distraction right here,” I assured them both. I held up my wrist, letting my shirt cuff fall away from The Machine.

“I know this thing does more than just move around. We need to find out what.” My co-conspirators grinned.