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. . .
