“just you think about that” tone, like passing this class should be my most important goal in life.
“Well,” I say, “at least we understand each other.”
Chapter 8
“SO,” SARAH SAYS SATURDAY night, while we’re out patrolling, “I heard you failed your poster.” She says it very matter-of-factly and pushes her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, or at least as far as they’ll go with her blue eye mask on. Sarah’s costume is blue and black spandex with a big silver Theta symbol on the front, marking her as the Cosine Kid. My costume is similar, except it’s green and black and has a big silver X. They’re her own designs, ones she came up with last spring when she decided she was going to be my sidekick or else. Back before Riley ever entered the picture.
And, okay, back before I mentioned I wanted to get a V instead of an H . But things have changed since then. Now I want to be a hero—sort of—and I don’t know what I’d do without her as my sidekick.
I roll my eyes at the mention of the poster. And since I know I’m not the one who told her, and she’s not exactly chummy with Amelia, that leaves only one other person. “So, I heard Riley’s been talking about me.” Probably trying to convince Sarah that I’m not hero material and that she should ditch me and start being his sidekick instead. As if he knows anything about it. He can’t even fall off a bed properly. Whereas I have fallen off a bed plenty of times without injury—just ask Kat.
We pass by a bunch of shops, making what are fairly usual rounds now in downtown Golden City. Sarah puts on a pair of homemade heat-vision goggles and peers into all the storefront windows, checking for any bad-guy activity.
“Don’t blame Riley for your failure,” she says, glancing over at me. Her goggles obscure her eyes, making her look kind of like a robot.
“It wasn’t a failure. I got a D .” D as in didn’t care. Alex’s class made posters last year, and he was in second grade. Plus, I’m pretty sure Kat and her classmates aren’t sitting around at Vilmore obsessing over getting their magazine cutouts just right. They’re too busy, like, actually learning how to defeat superheroes and stuff. It’s as if the teachers at Heroesworth want us to get our asses kicked.
Sarah tilts her head, giving me a knowing look, or at least what I assume is a knowing look behind her goggles. “You’re not going to get your H by getting D s.”
I sigh. “Don’t worry. I’m supposed to redo it. Since Miss Monk thinks I didn’t understand the assignment.” Which I did . She just didn’t understand my vision.
“Riley said the poster was supposed to be about what heroism means to you.”
“Right. I made a big collage with kittens in trees. And it’s not like there are just pictures of cats in trees in magazines. I had to splice them together, using the technological magic of scissors and glue. It took effort.” Okay, about half an hour of effort, which I spent mostly watching an episode of a new detective show Kat and I got hooked on over the summer. It’s about a superhero detective who solves all his cases by teaming up with a supervillain on the sly. It’s really popular, even if all the reviews say it’s unrealistic. Because a hero and a villain could never be in the same room, let alone work together for the greater good.
“That’s what heroism means to you?” Sarah asks. “Kittens? In trees?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It’s how I met my dad, remember? And it’s not like it’s the only thing I put on the poster. There were also old ladies crossing the street and a burning building.” Though now that I think about it, the way I structured it, it might have looked like the old ladies were crossing the street into the burning building. Oops.
Sarah wrinkles her nose. “We never do any of that stuff.”
Well, I did run into a burning building once, to save a supervillain kid, but Sarah wasn’t there for that one.
“Well,” I say, “at least we understand each other.”
Chapter 8
“SO,” SARAH SAYS SATURDAY night, while we’re out patrolling, “I heard you failed your poster.” She says it very matter-of-factly and pushes her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, or at least as far as they’ll go with her blue eye mask on. Sarah’s costume is blue and black spandex with a big silver Theta symbol on the front, marking her as the Cosine Kid. My costume is similar, except it’s green and black and has a big silver X. They’re her own designs, ones she came up with last spring when she decided she was going to be my sidekick or else. Back before Riley ever entered the picture.
And, okay, back before I mentioned I wanted to get a V instead of an H . But things have changed since then. Now I want to be a hero—sort of—and I don’t know what I’d do without her as my sidekick.
I roll my eyes at the mention of the poster. And since I know I’m not the one who told her, and she’s not exactly chummy with Amelia, that leaves only one other person. “So, I heard Riley’s been talking about me.” Probably trying to convince Sarah that I’m not hero material and that she should ditch me and start being his sidekick instead. As if he knows anything about it. He can’t even fall off a bed properly. Whereas I have fallen off a bed plenty of times without injury—just ask Kat.
We pass by a bunch of shops, making what are fairly usual rounds now in downtown Golden City. Sarah puts on a pair of homemade heat-vision goggles and peers into all the storefront windows, checking for any bad-guy activity.
“Don’t blame Riley for your failure,” she says, glancing over at me. Her goggles obscure her eyes, making her look kind of like a robot.
“It wasn’t a failure. I got a D .” D as in didn’t care. Alex’s class made posters last year, and he was in second grade. Plus, I’m pretty sure Kat and her classmates aren’t sitting around at Vilmore obsessing over getting their magazine cutouts just right. They’re too busy, like, actually learning how to defeat superheroes and stuff. It’s as if the teachers at Heroesworth want us to get our asses kicked.
Sarah tilts her head, giving me a knowing look, or at least what I assume is a knowing look behind her goggles. “You’re not going to get your H by getting D s.”
I sigh. “Don’t worry. I’m supposed to redo it. Since Miss Monk thinks I didn’t understand the assignment.” Which I did . She just didn’t understand my vision.
“Riley said the poster was supposed to be about what heroism means to you.”
“Right. I made a big collage with kittens in trees. And it’s not like there are just pictures of cats in trees in magazines. I had to splice them together, using the technological magic of scissors and glue. It took effort.” Okay, about half an hour of effort, which I spent mostly watching an episode of a new detective show Kat and I got hooked on over the summer. It’s about a superhero detective who solves all his cases by teaming up with a supervillain on the sly. It’s really popular, even if all the reviews say it’s unrealistic. Because a hero and a villain could never be in the same room, let alone work together for the greater good.
“That’s what heroism means to you?” Sarah asks. “Kittens? In trees?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It’s how I met my dad, remember? And it’s not like it’s the only thing I put on the poster. There were also old ladies crossing the street and a burning building.” Though now that I think about it, the way I structured it, it might have looked like the old ladies were crossing the street into the burning building. Oops.
Sarah wrinkles her nose. “We never do any of that stuff.”
Well, I did run into a burning building once, to save a supervillain kid, but Sarah wasn’t there for that one.
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