Super Powereds: Year 2 (28 page)

“We need to talk about the party.”

“The party?”

“Yeah, the party. The shindig, the festivity, the kegger, the gathering. That enough synonyms?” Angela asked.

“I know what a party is; I’m not sure which party you’re talking about.”

“Look, October is winding down. That means pretty soon most of the cuts on the freshman class will have been made,” Angela said impatiently. “And as I explained last year when you came to the party at my place, it is tradition for the sophomores to extend an invitation to a social gathering for those newbies still remaining.”

“Wait, you want me to throw it?”

“Good thing you’ve got a knack for fighting, kid, you aren’t too quick on the mental upswing. Yes, you need to throw it. You’re a sophomore and you have one of the few houses with adequate size, location, and residents that are all Supers.”

Thomas resisted the urge to ask how she knew so much about his living space: a girl this determined probably had methods he was happier being ignorant of. Instead he focused on diffusing the situation. “I might have the means; however, I’m not really the most gregarious person in our class. Perhaps there is a better fit for this duty.”

“You’re joking, right? Look, being a good host in this situation isn’t about creating fun. The kegs and attendees will handle that all on their own. No, it’s about being respected and powerful enough to impose order when things get out of hand, which they will. Take last year, for example; if I hadn’t broken up the pissing match that started over beer pong, a lot of bad shit could have happened.”

“If it’s power and respect, why not someone like Chad? I doubt anyone would question his authority to impose peace.”

“For one thing, because he lives in the dorms and doesn’t have a place. For another, because Chad, while hunky, is pretty anti-social. I don’t know how many people would show to something he organized. Having a good number of sophomore attendees makes the freshmen feel like they’ve walked into part of an existing community. If the party consists of five people, they’ll feel like they’re courted by a fringe of losers who can’t make friends with their own class.”

“I suppose I can see the point there,” Thomas conceded. “I still have some-”

“Listen, I don’t have time for this,” Angela cut him off. “The torch is passed, you have been tasked. If you want help and advice, by all means come to me. If you want to slide the burden to someone else, that’s your call. Just remember, we have this tradition for a reason. Freshman year is scary as shit, and letting those kids know that they have some support coming from higher up the ladder can make a big difference for some of them. So if you want to blow it off, I can’t stop you. Then again, if I thought you were the type to do that, I wouldn’t be having this talk with you in the first place.” Angela turned and began to walk away.

“You don’t know me beyond a few times we’ve briefly spoken,” Thomas called after her, his words bouncing in the now empty hall. “What makes you think I’m a good fit for this?”

“Shane recommended you,” Angela replied, turning around and giving Thomas a half-smile. “Funny thing about that kid, he has an odd knack for getting a sense of people. He said you were the most responsible guy in the whole class. That was enough for me.”

Thomas took a breath and cleared his head as Angela’s sunshine-colored locks swayed off in the opposite direction. He really didn’t want to throw a party, especially not with kegs and drinking and the like. It would be a large inconvenience for him and his roommates. Despite his wants, however, it seemed this was a duty, and Thomas Castillo had a very firm understanding of duty. He set his resolve and began heading toward the lifts.

On the upside, at least Violet and Stella would be happy about the news.

52.

“I don’t understand why I can’t just be a knight again,” Vince protested as he stared at the racks of colorful ensembles arranged along the walls.

“Because Halloween is a chance to have a little image experimentation, and doing the same costume over and over is not an acceptable social practice,” Nick explained. “Plus, shopping for them is half the fun.”

“You have an odd idea of fun,” Vince said with little conviction. He’d already given up and resolved himself to this fate; he was merely making sure to officially log his protests on the way down.

“Look at it this way: if you don’t dress up then you’ll stand out at Screamtopia. We’re supposed to blend in,” Hershel pointed out.

“Which I could do in the knight outfit I already own.”

“You just don’t get it, Vince,” Nick said, turning his own attention back to costume selection. The three boys were at a party supply store that was decked out in appropriate Halloween decor. After some discussion, Hershel’s haunted house suggestion had won out for their October 31 plans. Team One would all be going in a few days along with Thomas, Stella, Violet, Will, and anyone else they opted to bring along. The girls had gone on a shopping trip, leaving the three boys to their own devices. This had culminated in procrastination, leading them to search the already-scoured store with mere days to the deadline.

“What about condiments?” Hershel suggested. “They have ketchup, mayo, and mustard costumes.”

“There are two problems with that. First, we’d look ridiculous. Second, we aren’t a trio of gay polygamists, so we don’t need to be dressing in theme,” Nick said.

“A ‘no’ probably would have conveyed that just as well,” Vince scolded.

“Sorry, my bad,” Nick said offhandedly. “Let’s think in terms of things that work well for us personally rather than as a team. Hershel, how do you feel about mummies?”

“Ambivalent.”

“Good enough.” Nick snatched up a mummy costume and held it out to the huskier member of the party. “Go grab a dressing room.”

“Why a mummy?”

“Because Jekyll and Hyde would be too obvious. Just go see if you like it.”

Hershel began to protest more, then realized he didn’t have any ideas for costumes better than the one in his hand and decided to at least see how it looked.

“Okay, that’s one down; now what to do you about you, Silver? If we play to your hair color we could do a rave druggie or an old man. Any preference?”

“Neither,” Vince replied quickly. He’d just seen how being noncommittal had played out for Hershel so he was making his opinions known.

“Fine, fine. So picky for someone who says he doesn’t care.” Nick kept scanning the racks, looking for anything that would provide a ready-made explanation for Vince’s hair. On campus it didn’t stand out too much: there were plenty of people with unnatural hair colorings walking the Lander campus. Screamtopia was different, it wasn’t associated with the school, so they needed to try and look as normal as possible under the circumstances.

“How about a ghost? We get you some white clothing, dust you up with baby powder, and you make some moaning noises on cue.”

“Maybe,” Vince said cautiously. “Hey, what about this one? It seems kind of appropriate when you think about it.”

Nick glanced at the costume clutched in his friend’s hand. It was appropriate - a little too appropriate, actually - but it could account for the silver hair under the right circumstances.

“Try it on. If it fits we’ll grab some accessories and call you done.”

“Cool.” Vince headed off toward the line at the dressing room, leaving Nick to dig through the racks for his own holiday-appropriate attire. Last year’s gunslinger had been fun, but this year Nick was feeling a bit more mischievous, like he wanted one that showed a touch of his own personality. He ran his hands through the patterns of cheap fabric one by one, dismissing each as he passed it by.

Nick found the right costume near the end of the store, just when he was resolving himself to pick something that fit rather than something he liked. He’d seen variations of this idea already, but something about this particular one called to him. He snatched it up and made a beeline for the dressing room. There was no question he was buying it; all that remained to be seen was if it would require alteration.

* * *

Chad was already in the gym when Shane walked in. He ignored the blonde’s presence and went over to the free weights, trying to seem indifferent. Of course Chad was already here; Chad was always here, always working on getting better. Not that he needed it.

The two boys were the only sophomores here today; most of the others had been taking a break since the test. Some were feeling smug, some were licking their wounds, and some were just too tired to put in the extra hours. Shane finished a round of curls and moved to the bench press. He was halfway through his first set when a familiar shadow fell across his face.

“Need a spotter?”

Shane checked the venomous retort that wanted to fly out of his mouth. He had to get himself under control. He’d always known Chad was stronger than him; that wasn’t new. His team being so thoroughly trashed had still left a sour flavor in his mouth, and he hadn’t quite been able to curb the bubbling anger directed toward his friend. In truth, that was the reason he’d been avoiding him; he didn’t want to say anything that would leave a lasting tarnish between them over something as ultimately trivial as a Capture the Flag match.

“Sure.” Shane kept the bar moving, pushing himself beyond where he would have stopped had a safety net not been present. In the end, he didn’t end up needing Chad’s help. His friend stayed silently present the whole time, waiting just in case. Shane set the bar down and grabbed his water bottle to take a drink.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Chad said. Something seemed different about him today. It took a few seconds for Shane to realize it, but Chad was awkward. It was something Shane had never seen before. Usually the boy was so self-possessed and determined that everything he did exuded confidence. Not right now. No, at the moment he looked like a trout trying to blend in at a hammerhead convention.

“Been sort of busy studying for midterms,” Shane lied.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense.” Chad didn’t have to study for finals. His power allowed him to keep his brain in peak efficiency, resulting in perfect recall of anything he’d read or seen when he needed it. Cramming for tests was just one of those million little inconveniences he didn’t understand. “Doing anything for Halloween?”

“I think my team wanted to hit up the frat party they throw every year,” Shane said.

“Sounds fun. Mine is going to that haunted house downtown.”

“You going to join them?”

“Not sure yet,” Chad said.

“You should. Party nights are a good chance to build team spirit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Um, so I was kind of wanting to check something with you. It might sound stupid but we’re okay, right?” Chad asked, his eyes staring intently at the weight bar.

“You don’t have a lot of practice with friends, do you?”

“Not really.”

Shane took another sip of water. It was almost unnerving to see Chad like this. Still, it was helping to diffuse the remaining anger from Shane’s defeat. Staying mad at him in this state felt like being mad at a puppy three days after it peed on the floor.

“We’re fine,” Shane said. “I just needed a little time to let my pride heal. You trounced us pretty well.”

“Maybe,” Chad said. “You should be aware, if we’d faced any other team we would have won in half the time. You guys put up a hell of a fight.”

“We did our best. You want to go grab some dinner after we finish down here?” Shane asked, extending an olive branch of his own.

Chad nodded. “Let’s run a few laps and get some grub.”

53.

To call Screamtopia a building would be akin to calling quantum physics mildly complicated. It was a compound, a series of warehouses that had been built upon and interjoined many years previous. After the original owner’s company collapsed, a few men with vision (as well as stolen plans and financial records from other haunted houses) saw what it could become and made the necessary alterations. Now it stood as a mecca for the Halloween devotees in California, people driving for hours to wander through its eerily enchanted hallways and yelp in terror. It wasn’t just the leaping actors that made it a special kind of scary; Screamtopia worked hard to create an entire atmosphere of fear. Visitors were allowed to come through in carefully limited groups so that they experienced a sense of isolation, a few Supers were kept on staff to bend the limits of what was and wasn’t possible in key areas, and of course there was the maze.

“Thews a mwaze?”

“For the love of god, man, give it up,” Nick said. All of Team One was walking through the parking lot, trying not to be intimidated by the daunting line jutting out from the surprisingly well-lit building. The seven students were in anything but normal garb, each costumed into a Halloween persona, some closer to the truth than others.

“Sahwy,” Vince replied, awkwardly spitting the plastic fangs into his hand. He wore a black cape and faux crushed velvet vest. His normally disheveled hair was slicked back, and a cheap plastic necklace hung around his neck. Even without the fangs he was easily recognizable as a classic vampire.

“To answer your question, yeah, the maze is a big part of the appeal here. It runs across a few floors of the complex, and there are tons of routes that force you to split up. All of them eventually lead to the end, but the first one of a group to finish it gets a free drink at the lounge,” explained Hershel the prisoner. The mummy costume had been a bust, and eventually he’d settled on a simple orange jumpsuit prisoner costume. It wasn’t terribly exciting, but it was functional and easy to move in, which was really all Hershel wanted. He usually got his fill of costumes from LARPing; for Hershel, Halloween was about the mystical sense of fear.

“Not that we can drink anyway,” Princess Mary pointed out. She wore a purple dress that trailed the ground and a glittery tiara in her hair. “This is a respectable business, not a frat party with lax rules.”

“If I’ve learned one thing about this town, it’s that the local population has the resourcefulness of black ops agents when it comes to finding ways to drink,” Alice the devil observed. She wore a tight pair of black leather pants and a black corset, pressing her noticeable chest upward. It was a corset with shoulders, and one that still left plenty to the imagination. Alice might be breaking out of her protected shell, but her risqué limit was still well below others her age. Atop her head was a pair of red horns that almost seemed natural, her voluminous locks hiding the string that held them in place.