Super Powereds: Year 2 (53 page)

Nick slid away from the concerned crowd mobbing Vince, finding himself standing on the fringe of the group with Alice.

“Some night, huh?”

“Never a dull moment with these guys,” Nick replied.

“You did a good job calming things down.”

“Calm? Things aren’t calmed, they’re just delayed. Chad pretty much just accused Vince of being raised by the most notorious villain in recent history.”

“You’re forgetting something,” Alice pointed out. “Globe is dead. His team killed him after he murdered Intra.”

“That’s the story,” Nick agreed.

“You don’t buy it?”

“I prefer to say I have my doubts. Besides, it would certainly help explain why some random drifter was able to teach Vince to fight so well.”

“I see what you mean. Speaking of seeing, I was at about the same vantage point as you during that fiasco.”

“And?”

“And I know the table didn’t stop an inch from Vince. It hit him full-force,” Alice said.

Nick turned a curious eye to her. He wondered when his former admirer had gotten so observant. It was certainly a useful trait, but one that could create problems in the future. “Yeah, he took it right in the spine. He should have a broken back right now, yet he looks no worse for the wear except for some bruising on his wrist.”

As Nick spoke Camille plowed her way through the crowd and laid a hand on Vince’s hand. The two shared a look of understanding as the red marks on his wrist in the shape of Chad’s hand began to fade and then disappear entirely.

“What do you think it means? Has he been hiding his abilities from us?”

“Vince couldn’t hide water in the ocean. It’s not who he is. Besides, he was more surprised than we were when this night didn’t end with him in traction,” Nick explained.

“So it’s something new then, like what happened with me?”

“If I were a betting man, and I am, that’s where I’d lay my odds. We can tackle that tomorrow. Right now we should really get him home so he can calm down.”

“He looks fine,” Alice said. Nick smiled inwardly at her words. If she hadn’t noticed the small tremors in Vince’s hands or the nervous way he was licking his lips then her observation skills were still at a manageable level.

“Trust me, he’s putting on a brave front. We need to get him home.” With that, Nick stepped forward and began herding the crowd with kind words and frequent assurance. He gave his apologies to the birthday girl but was insistent that they all head out. Some were electing to stay and keep the party rolling, however Nick spared his people from obligation with excuses, false commitments, and just the right amount of guilt. It took nearly ten minutes, but in the end, all of Team One was heading toward their respective dorms, an uncharacteristically silent Vince left alone to unwind in the back of Nick’s car.

That was the end of their party. For two of them, it was not quite yet the end of their night.

103.

Vince stepped back into his room after a long shower, only to find his phone vibrating aggressively across his desk as the screen flashed an unfamiliar number. He let it bounce around the wooden surface as he got dressed, not in a mood to talk to anyone, regardless of who was calling. Eventually the phone ceased its rattling, only to begin once more mere moments later. He let this call extinguish, too; however, when it began again he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Hello?” He tried to sound curt, but deep down he suspected he merely came off as tired.

“Hey. I’m outside your dorm’s front door. Come let me in already.”

Although the caller couldn’t see it, Vince’s face furrowed in uncertainty. He was pretty sure he recognized the voice, but he had no idea why that person would be calling on him so late. Ultimately, Vince wasn’t one to turn away someone in need, even if his own night had been a spectacular shitshow.

“I’ll be right out.” He closed the phone and headed out of his room. Both the boys’ lounge and the common room were empty, as he’d expected. No one else had been up for keeping the night going after the inadvertent showdown at the Karaoke Barn. Well, almost no one, anyway. He went down the entrance hall and pushed the front door open. While a finger print was required to get in, getting out was less secured. This was, allegedly, in case of an emergency that required immediate evacuation. A small figure trundled through the open door, arms heavy with several grocery bags that likely would not have been so cumbersome on a larger person.

“Is everything okay?” Vince asked.

“I’d say it’s far from it,” the figure responded. It set down a few of its burdens, revealing Camille’s delicate features and pale blonde hair. Vince obliged his male duties by scooping up the bags she let down, a quick peek showing him one was filled with junk food and the other various drinks in aluminum cans.

“If this is about the party, I’m really sor-”

Camille held up a now free hand to silence him. “First off, you threw yourself between me and life-threatening injury less than two hours ago, so even if I had been mad at you, we’d already be even. Secondly, what happened tonight was Chad’s fault, not yours. He flipped out and you were just trying to keep up. Lastly, I’m not here because anything is wrong with me. I’m here because things are pretty wrong with you.”

Vince blinked in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time Camille said that many words in one go, let alone that many to him. She was holding herself taller than usual, too; not that it made much difference on her minimal height, but it was still noticeable. Had he been awake for her fight in the first team event, he would have recognized the tone and posture. As it was, he didn’t quite know what to think of it.

“I’m fine,” he said at last. “I mean, tonight was really weird and all, but I’ll be okay.”

“Merde,” Camille replied, moving her way past him and into the common room.

“What does that mean?”

“Roughly translated from French, it’s a very emphatic version of ‘bullshit.’ My mother was a second-generation American from Paris, if you couldn’t guess from my first name.” Camille made it to the coffee table and began depositing her remaining bags across its plentiful surface.

“Look, Camille, I appreciate your concern, but it is really late and I kind of want to-”

“Toss and turn? Lay awake until dawn and gaze at the ceiling? Maybe stare at your watch until you can barely even focus your eyes anymore? If you were going to say one of those, then go ahead, I’ll believe it. But don’t insult me with some lie about going to sleep. We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

Vince had no response at the ready; she’d nailed him flat to the wall. While his body was weary and he suspected nothing would feel better than dozing off, deep down he knew the minute he closed his eyes all the questions would come bubbling up. There was so much about Father that Vince didn’t know, and while he certainly couldn’t believe the man who raised him had been involved with someone like Globe, it did seem evident that there was more to the wanderer than one might have originally suspected. A part of him had always wondered, only now instead of a dulling curiosity, it was evolving into a burning ember of uncertainty.

“You’re not a big drinker, are you?” Camille’s question snapped Vince from the reverie he’d drifted into.

“Not since Thomas’s party, no. That was enough for me.”

“I figured as much, but I brought a six-pack anyway,” Camille said, setting down a carton of glass bottles that were already beginning to show condensation in the warmth of the dorm. While Vince had been musing she’d also unpacked sodas, chips, marshmallows, cards, board games, and a small stack of DVDs. The bags had been stuffed into one another, so now only a single bloated plastic container remained.

“What is all this?”

“Distractions. Things to keep us occupied. I figured you might want to talk about stuff, or you might want very emphatically to not talk about stuff. The first one is easy, the second one usually requires supplies, so I came prepared for either.”

“You didn’t need to do all this.” Vince sat down slowly on the couch, still absorbing the deviation his night had taken from the plan of sleep.

“I’m the healer of this team, and I take that job seriously,” Camille replied, pulling open one of the bags of chips. “But not all damage is physical, you know. Sometimes the wounds you get are in places not even a Super can see. Those scars still need tending, probably even more than the purely physical ones. If I couldn’t tell when one of my teammates was dealing with an old injury then I wouldn’t be much of a healer, would I?” Camille crunched through a corn-chip and gave him a smile. He gazed back at her with a gratitude far beyond his meager vocabulary’s ability to express.

Looking into his eyes still made her feel flustered, still made her want to blush and hush and hide until his attention had turned elsewhere. Camille was still trapped under the weight of her own feelings for him, but at times like this, she could bear it. When he needed her, when he needed protection and help, she was no longer quite crushed by the burden of loving him.

“This... this is really nice of you.”

“I already told you, we’re teammates. And even if we weren’t, you’re my friend.”

“Still, it means a lot. I think I’d like to not talk. At least, not at first.”

“I suspected as much.” Camille reached down and shifted through the stacks of DVDs. “I don’t know what you usually watch, but I brought action, comedy, sci-fi, horror-”

“Anything but horror,” Vince said immediately.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about Nick’s slasher marathons.”

“Then consider yourself extremely lucky,” Vince shot back, reaching out and grabbing a handful of chips himself. Camille popped in a comedy and settled into a recliner as the opening menu appeared on screen. Part of her wished she had the courage to sit with him on the couch, where they might accidentally touch or fall asleep next to one another. Even if she could have done it, she probably wouldn’t have. Tonight was about making Vince’s life feel less complicated, not more.

* * *

Nick was the first one up the next morning, passing through the common room on his way to the kitchen for coffee. As soon as he stepped through the door he saw Vince passed out on the couch, a bag of marshmallows spilling out of his hands and likely already attracting ants. Camille was asleep in the chair, a throw blanket pulled up tight over her small body. Although they were several pieces of furniture apart, he could see they were much closer than they had been when seated next to one another.

“About time,” Nick mumbled as he continued his trek to the kitchen. He’d deal with this new situation in whatever way he deemed best, but only after coffee.

104.

“You know, this isn’t as bad as I expected.” Alice surveyed the porcelain domain, rubber gloves pulled tight across her hands and an already-soapy mop to her side. She’d picked out the grittiest clothes she had for this job: a t-shirt and sweatpants that were each designer label but from a collection now three years old. Most of the morning had been spent getting supplies and bracing for the worst, but the room before her was actually not as horrific as tales of men’s restrooms had led her to believe.

“We do have a cleaning lady that comes every few days,” Nick reminded her. “Melbrook might be cozy and odd but it’s still a dorm. Besides, there’s less mess when you have three guys who know each other sharing the same area. Not much opportunity for diffused responsibility.”

“I don’t want to know,” Alice said immediately. “I’m here to clean, not learn anything more about what goes on in here than I have to.”

“Fair enough. I must say, I’m surprised you still showed up for this after my mild deception.”

“You mean the fact that your singing is fantastic? Yeah, I’ll admit I thought about welching after that little revelation.”

“Stopped by a refined sense of honor?”

“Closer to pride,” Alice admitted. “When I thought about it, you were clearly leading me into this trap. The bathroom was my idea, but it could have been anything. I should have seen it; hell, you weren’t even really trying that hard. So that’s most of why I’m here. Like you said at the slasher marathon, lessons without consequences don’t take as well. This is my way of learning not to be fooled quite so easily.”

“There’s a bit of wisdom in such a philosophy,” Nick said, patting her gently on the shoulder. “Would you like me to keep you company?”

“Much as I’m sure you’d love to ogle my ass when I crouch down in these sweatpants, you’re out of luck. Mary flagged me on my way over. She said she wants to have a chat with you, captain to tactician,” Alice replied.

“This must be my lucky day,” Nick mumbled. He’d known this talk would be coming eventually, he’d just hoped to push it off as long as possible. Mary wasn’t going to like what he had to say, not at all. “Fine, I’ll go get my lickings.”

“Heh heh. And here I thought I’d be having the worst Saturday out of us all,” Alice chuckled. She pulled the mop clear from the bucket and plopped it onto the tile floor, a wave of bubble-infested water rushing outwards. Nick took a quick step back to keep it from getting on his shoes. He paused for just a moment to savor the sight of oh-so-proper Alice dragging a cleaning implement across the floor, then left the bathroom and headed toward the common area.

Mary was waiting for him as soon as he walked in; a book sat in her lap, clearly not being read. She glanced up and nodded to the seat across from her.

“Shouldn’t we go somewhere more private?”

“Vince and Camille went to get lunch, Roy is off doing more training, and Alice is on cleaning duty. I think we’re okay,” Mary said, nodding to the seat again. “Incidentally, when did those two start hanging out by themselves?”

“I think our little healer was working a different kind of ability last night after the party,” Nick replied. He gave in to her request before it became an order and took the seat she wanted him to. “Vince was visibly shaken up; I assume she came over and helped him feel better.”

“Feels like that should have been our job,” Mary pointed out.