It’s this Scott Summers that I love the most. Somewhere between good and bad. Somewhere between a stiff and a revolutionary.
“Caught me,” I say with a half-smile.
He sets his duffel on the free bed and then glances back at Ryke. “What are you drinking?”
He shakes his energy drink can and then takes a large swig.
“Try this.” Sam rummages in the pocket of his duffel before pulling out a slim black can with a lightning bolt insignia. He tosses it to Ryke, who easily catches it in one hand.
My brother reads the label. “Lightning Bolt…with an exclamation point. What is this shit?” He inspects it like Sam handed him arsenic. And then Ryke pops the f**king tab and takes a sip.
I just shake my head. How has he not died yet?
“You didn’t know what it was, and yet you still drank it?” Connor says aloud. “Now I’m questioning our friendship.”
“Good,” Ryke says, “because I question it every f**king day.”
“I remember now, why we’re friends.” Connor steps into his costume’s black pants. “Every man needs a dog.” He pauses. “Lassie taught me that.”
I slow clap.
“Fuck you,” Ryke says.
“I thought it was a compliment,” Connor replies casually with a grin. “Everyone loves Lassie.”
Sam sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re holding an energy drink,” he tells Ryke, circling back to the point. “Fizzle created it. We’re unveiling the product in a few days.”
“It’s not bad,” Ryke says, scrutinizing the Lightning Bolt! can.
“Good because if you’re around Lily at all, you can’t drink brands from Fizzle’s competitors. It’s bad marketing.”
“No problem.” Ryke stands and tosses his old energy drink in the wastebasket.
We all concentrate on changing clothes. Sam rises and tugs his shirt off before unzipping his duffel. I become acutely aware that he has four years on Connor and Ryke and six years on me with the way he begins commanding the room. Confident posture, assured stance—a build that would suit someone heading into the army. Not that he’s ever going to enlist like his father and four brothers.
Sammy took another path in life to be with the rich and now the famous.
By the time I have the gold belt around my waist, along with tight navy pants and boots, Ryke lounges on the chair.
“You can’t seriously be finished,” I say, scanning his dark green leather jacket, a hood attached, and an identical colored crew-neck. Black jeans to top off his simple look.
Sam scrutinizes him. “Who are you supposed to be?”
“Green Arrow.”
I shake my head in disapproval. He wore the same exact costume almost one year ago—when I first met him.
“It’s the only thing I have,” Ryke says to me. “And what does it f**king matter?”
“I can see your face.” I point at him. “You can pretend your little hood will conceal your features, but the moment we hit the convention floor, people are going to swarm us.”
“I’m going to shave,” Ryke declares. “And I have black paint that I’m going to use for a mask.”
“Where’s your bow and arrow?” Sam asks, scanning the room for Ryke’s props.
“I left them at my apartment—”
I groan.
Connor says, “Not surprised.”
“Look, I already had one of the girls swing by my place and pick them up on their way. Problem solved.” Probably Daisy…but I smother that suspicion. It shouldn’t matter if she was the one—they’re just friends. Like he said. I’d rather not put my doubts in Sam’s head either.
Ryke zips up his leather jacket. “And worry about yourself, Cobalt.”
“That’s the thing,” Connor says, “I don’t have to worry about myself.” He fits his black mask over his eyes and nose, shrouding half his face. “It’s called confidence, in case you were confused.”
“Sounds more like arrogance,” Ryke says.
“Closely related,” he says, not denying a thing.
Sam snaps his blue belt around his waist. “Poppy has my shield,” he says to Ryke, “so do you want to stop by the girls’ room with me?” He’s being all buddy-buddy with my brother, which has me a bit on guard.
Connor checks his watch on the bed. “Rose already texted me that they’re waiting on the ballroom level.” Everyone is pretty much ready except my brother, who’s been slacking. “Hurry up and shave, Ryke.”
“I’ll just meet you f**king down there.” Ryke heads to the bathroom.
“No,” Connor says. “A man never leaves his dog behind.”
Ryke flips him off, not turning around as he does so. He disappears in the bathroom.
Connor grins. We end up waiting for Ryke in the doorway. Sam leans his shoulder on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The expression he wears—the faint humor mixed with seriousness as his lips rise—fits his character too well.
“Captain America,” I say. “Aren’t you glad you left your four-year-old at home? She’d learn words like f**k off and f**king f**k all within the span of thirty minutes.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sam says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap back.
“He’s your brother, right? Cut from the same cloth.”
I don’t curse as much as Ryke, not even close, but he’s saying that he’d be hesitant to let his child around me. I can’t do anything but glare.
Sam sighs, seeing that I’m taking offense to this. “I didn’t mean anything by it other than you’re both rough around the edges.” I don’t tear my gaze off him, and to throw up a white flag or maybe prove a point, he calls out to my brother, “Do you plan on procreating, Ryke?”
“Yeah,” Ryke shouts back. “And I hope my kid is a horrible influence on yours.”
Sam looks at me and outstretches his arms like am I right?
Yeah. My lips lift. Maybe he is.
7
0 years : 02 months
October
LILY CALLOWAY
“Batman?” I stand beneath a towering figure with pink lips and broad shoulders. And I think: Please let this be Connor Cobalt. Within ten minutes, I lost my sisters among the costumed-clad masses. I was distracted by the best Ninja Turtle cosplay, of all things.
I’d search for the numerous Captain Americas and Black Widows, but it’s easy to tell which ones aren’t Sam and Poppy. Same goes for Cyclops—who’d be my first choice.
But the Batmans—I can’t discern from faraway. So this is my fifth attempt at rejoining my group.
The guy lowers his head a little so his blue eyes meet mine. And then he says in a deep voice, “I am Batman.”
Okaaay. “But do I know you?” I ask. I wish I could just be like: Hey, Connor, are you messing with me? I’d rather not shout his name too loudly. Even though “Connor” isn’t so original, people could put two and two together, right? And then they’ll figure out that I’m Lily Calloway.
I straighten my blonde wig in anxiety, hoping that the glitter on my face is a good enough disguise. If it was up to me, I’d be a pink Power Ranger—totally hidden from head-to-toe. However, Rose and Lo said I need to be partially exposed to the world because I can’t dress up all the time.