Sketch Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The man spins us around and I get a good look at him. He’s tall, maybe in his late twenties, and bulking with muscle. We couldn’t have taken him in the first place. Along with a scraggly reddish-brown beard and mustache, he wears a crisp blue and black suit, with a silver tie.

“You’re the kids with the powers, right?” He asks. I glance at Drew, who looks confused, skeptical, and annoyed, all at the same time.

“Is he crazy?” Drew says to me, with eyebrows raised, and nose scrunched. “We’re just kids.” The man holds up a cellphone and speaks into it calmly, like that was what he’d been waiting for. So much for acting.

“These are the ones. Pull the car up.”

“Woah, dude!” I hold my hands up as if to push him away, and back up quickly. “We don’t-” He grabs my arm, and pulls me back surprisingly gently. Ignoring what I said, he turns to Drew.

“If you don’t come, we’re ready to use precautions.” I can’t pull away.

“What precautions?”

“We’d have her, for one.” Drew hesitated. Hesitated. Hello? Use your powers and get help already! I wanted to scream at him so bad. Why was he being so. . . stupid? I stare at him in disbelief. He was always like the smart one, the one who was thinking ahead, always practical, and prepared. Drew often made plans, bade his time, while I wanted to go in, charging. He held me back, a lot, and I usually trusted him. Yet. . . what the heck was he waiting for? He looks back at me, concern clearly plastered across his face, arms locked, his hands subtly formed into fists. Then he stared. . . at my ponytail? Where was his priorities?

“So, hypothetically, if I ran, you wouldn’t chase me?” A sleek black minivan pulls up, and I can see the gears spinning in Drew’s head as he looks it up and down.

“Not chased. You’d probably come on your own,” then the man pushes me into the backseat of the van, and slams the doors. I can only hear a faint murmur of their conversation.

“Not scared, are ye, dear?” I jump. A short woman with an odd accent sits at the wheel, giving me a once-over. “Not what I expected, either, hiring kids, and all; but I ‘ave ta do whatever Jim says. I owe ‘im a debt from a couple o’ years ago. Y’know what I mean?” Then she shakes her head. “Suppose ye don’t- ye must barely be in middle school.”

“W-who are you, uh- miss?”

“Kimberly Kale- Jim’s all-around employee.”

“Um, is Jim that guy. . . outside?” I glance outside and see Drew and Jim arguing passionately.

“’Course ‘e is. Who else-” Jim climbs into the car, and Drew stands outside, arms folded and pressed against his chest, biting his lip, staring at the sidewalk. He isn’t. . . No, Drew couldn’t. . . “Get buckled, dear, we’re getting on the highway.”

We drive.

---

After a bit, I find the courage to ask, “you let him go?”

“It’s only a minor delay,” said Jim, “but don’t worry; we’ll find your friend soon enough- if we need him.”

“Why-”

“-Did we let him go? If you found two pencils on the ground, would you take the longer, new one? Or would you take the short stub?” He turned in his seat to look me in the eye, “and you should relate to that very well.”

---

We’re heading west. I’m watching the street signs as we drive past, and it isn’t looking too good. The car must’ve been expensive, because we’ve been driving for two hours and haven’t even stopped for gas. Though, I’ve never actually been out of Illinois before. The only road trip I’d ever been on was to my cousin’s 8th birthday, down in Springfield, and after I’d become Sketch, Dad had never taken me to see them again. Dad- I’d seen him this morning, before he went to work, but that seemed like hours before. Sure, he knew I went out as a superhero, and of course he’d be worried, but I doubt he’d call the police.

Well, he would after a few days. I just hope a few days is enough. . .

---

“She’s asleep, Kimberly. She actually fell asleep.”

“That’s good. I ‘ate it when we ‘aft to use sleeping gas on younger ‘uns.” Consciousness floods in, and I force myself to not open my eyes. If they want me to sleep, there’s no way I’m going to. I hear doors open and close, and I’m lifted- again. What am I, a bag? I suppose I should be used to this. If you save people publicly, (like I have) then you get kidnapped like twice a month by people who want you to stop (like I do). Each time we’re kidnapped or whatever, Drew and I play innocent, up to the last minute, before we’re driven away. But. . . we left Chicago hours ago. Drew and I are a team, and teammates are supposed to trust each other, but it’s kinda hard to trust somebody who’s miles away.

“What’s the password again, Jim? I always forget.”

“They changed it again this morning. Ah, I think I wrote it down. . . Right, it’s in my pocket,” The arms holding me shift, so Jim must be carrying me. “Here it is: Veil2Brothers. Whatever that means.” Veil Brothers? If that’s the password, Drew needs to know it. . . But there isn’t much you can do while you’re pretending to be sleeping. I am getting tired. Maybe I can work it out tomorrow. . .