Blaze (23 page)

“Wha—? How?” I’m completely confused. “What did you do? Fly here?”

Josh fingers his cape. “Yeah, sure, ‘like a bird!’” He pantomimes flying like Superman and laughs. “More like a ‘speeding locomotive.’”

“You boys took the train?” I’m ready to throw a full-on fit. “Do your parents know—”

“You mean the boys aren’t here with you?” The Red Cardinal asks me stupidly.

“Oh, they’re here with me all right…”

“Relax, sis, everything’s cool. We took the train right into Penn Station.”

“That’s just up the road,” confirms the annoying red bird at my back. “Good to see you, Josh.” He offers Josh a feather.

Josh ignores it. “I heard Dad’s message about Comic-Con and just knew you’d show up here. Mom thinks I’m sleeping over at Ajay’s house.”

“More asking for forgiveness, not permission?” I ask, and Josh nods sheepishly.

“We got here faster than you did driving,” says Andrew. He adjusts his mask by sticking his fingers in the eyeholes and pulling up.

“It seemed way longer, though, since I forgot to bring my charger.” Ajay glances back at the three-story Nintendo banner. “Once I lost power, there was nothing to do but count cows.”

“I won.” Josh raises his hands in victory just as a busty girl wearing a slave Princess Leia coat-hanger bikini walks by and smiles at him. Andrew has to physically restrain Dylan from chasing after her, but regardless, the boys are obligated to observe a moment of silent worship, which is when the stupid Red Cardinal decides to chirp in.

“So, Blaze, I really need to get back to work here.” He’s still trying to hand red feathers out to random people. “But if you could get me those comics, that would be awesome.”

Josh’s gaze abandons Princess Leia to look me in the eyes. I roll mine.

I finger my new ring. I know Butterfly had her own meaning attached to it, but as soon as I saw the hidden bird, for me, it was all about the Phoenix Force. The nexus of all psionic energy, the Phoenix Force bonds with its host and wields almost limitless power. With Jean Grey it embodied everything from the powerful White Phoenix of the Crown to the Dark Phoenix, a seriously kick-ass villain. I rub my ring with my left hand.
Today
I
think
she’s feeling a little dark.

Josh is still watching me, so I give him a small wink. “Sure, Dad.” I smile up at the giant bird. “They’re all packed up in the back of Supertu… er, they’re in the back of the minivan and ready to go.”

“Wow, Blaze, that’s so great!” Dad is happy. “I had hoped I’d be able to get a good price for them here at Comic-Con, and the Red Cardinal guys gave me a thumbs up to display them at their table.” He nods his giant red bird head. “Looks like everything’s gonna work out just super.”

“Looks that way,” I agree, smiling. I spin around and call, “Come on, boys. Help me get our dad his comics, will ya?”

To the Red Cardinal I say, “We’ll meet you out front in twenty minutes or so, okay?”

His smile is wide. “Wow, kid. Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know, I know.” I snatch another feather from his outstretched hand and head out the doors, my adolescent pseudo-superheroes falling in behind me.

Twenty minutes later, the boys and I are standing out in front, facing the Javits Center doors. Together, we’ve moved the boxes from the back of my (
not
towed!
) minivan to where they are now, piled up on the sidewalk in front of us. The boys stand, two on either side of me, their homemade costumes hanging limp from the strain of our activity. Ajay seems to be breathing a little heavy, and I toss him his inhaler from the inner pocket of my messenger bag. He gives me a nod, pulling his glove up tighter, and opens his mouth wide for a quick squirt.

By the time my dad comes out, pushing a handcart to collect the boxes, a bit of my fury has faded. I no longer feel the unquenchable urge to punch him in the big orange eye. He looks so ridiculous trying to maneuver the glass door with the rolling cart and that stupid giant bird head—I almost feel sorry for him. Josh must sense my weakness, because he puts his hand on my arm and channels his Superman strength to me.

Our dad makes his way toward us, his red bird head nodding. I’m incredibly calm as I turn to one of the exiled smokers standing nearby. “Hey, buddy, got a light?”

The heart-attack-waiting-to-happen sizes me up, shrugs, and hands over a plastic lighter. I quickly roll up the flier I’m holding in my hand, light it, and hold it out over the boxes piled at our feet.

Dad pauses, tilts the handcart to stand on its own, and stares at us. Even with his face obscured by the giant bird head, I can see he’s confused.

“Hey, Dad!” I call. “You maybe should’ve thought more carefully about what you decided to name me. I’ve grown into a wildfire that won’t be put out.” In my peripheral vision, I see a crowd is gathering. “You wanted your precious comics. So here they are.”

With that, I lower my torch and light the corners of the top box. Dad stands motionless as the boys on either side of me quickly pull out their fliers and start lighting and spreading, lighting and spreading the fire. Before anyone can make a move to stop us, we have the entire stack of boxes burning.

Once the fire’s going, I flick the feather dad gave me into it before pulling the inventory list out of my messenger bag. I begin reading loudly, “
Fantastic
Four
, 1961, issue numbers one through sixteen!
Fantastic
Four
, 1981, issues two-three-five through two-five-one…”

The crowd around us gasps in horror and heart-attack-to-go guy nearly flings his body onto the burning boxes. Luckily, a younger guy holds him back, because the fire is really going by now and his burning corpse would’ve smelled pretty rank.

“
The
Amazing
Spider-Man
, 1978, issue numbers one-seven-six through one-nine-six.” I continue reading my list to the
Argh!
’s and
No!
’s and even occasional screams from the crowd when I read off some of the particularly rare and expensive items. “
Tales
of
Suspense
number thirty-nine!” I call out and hear a loud whimper, meaning that at least somebody realizes it’s the very first appearance of Iron Man. When I glance up at my dad, I see that he’s using the handcart to hold himself and his enormous red bird costume upright. Reaching up slowly, he pulls the cardinal head back like a giant hood, revealing his hair, all sweaty and plastered to his head. His blackened eyes are closed.

When I picture how he looks in that moment, when we turn and leave him there like that, with those boxes still burning, I like to think my dad feels remorse.

I hope that underneath all those phony red feathers, he’s mourning more than his burning comic collection. I hope he’s mourning me and Josh and all that was and can never be again. I hope he regrets letting go of everything that he should have held on to.

I take my brother’s hand as we walk away from the blazing fire in slow motion. It’s about time we rescued ourselves.

• • •

“You know, Blaze.” Dylan pauses before climbing into the back of Superturd. “I thought your pose in that photo was rather tasteful.”

“That photo shall never be spoken of in this minivan! Ever!” I command.

He holds up his hands. “I barely even looked, honest.”

“Right,” I say, “and my beauty mark is…”

“Directly underneath your right nipple,” Dylan recites, then winces. “Honestly, Blaze, I still respect you.”

Josh shoves Dylan shaved-head first into Superturd and says to me, “What I don’t get is, why is it okay for models to show everything they’ve got?” He gestures to a towering billboard that features an underwear model with swirling hair. “But when a regular girl does the same thing, she’s suddenly accused of being a slut. Seems unfair, don’t you think?”

I look up at the girl in the ad. Her exaggerated pose makes it seem as if she thinks her breasts are her source of power. “Who knows?” I say. “Maybe she gets called a slut too. At least my picture isn’t five stories high in the middle of Manhattan.” I think about how exposed that must make her feel and decide my little cell phone photo circulating around Butler may not be the absolute end of my life after all.

It hurts like hell to be gossiped about, but I’ve come to realize that what other people think of me is honestly none of my business.

As Josh and I climb into the front, I ask him, “So how on earth did you even know I was here?”

“Mom mentioned something about you staying at Amanda’s. I know you hate Amanda and her mom doesn’t like you, so that had to be a lie.” Josh rubs the back of his neck. “Then I heard Dad’s message on the machine about needing his damn comics for Comic-Con, so I checked the basement, saw the comics were gone, and knew right away where to find you.”

“But how did you pay for train tickets?”

Josh grins. “I stashed a handful of dad’s comics away a long time ago. Sort of an emergency fund. Quentin gave me a good price for them.”

“I’m sure he ripped you off.” I laugh.

“He said to have you call him.”

I blush. “Yeah, we already talked.”

Superturd immediately erupts with sing-song teasing. “Ooooh, Blaze and Quentin…”

I nod and laugh at the taunts, not really minding all that much. “All right, enough, enough. I still can’t believe you guys just showed up.”

Andrew says, “We followed the flow of folks to Comic-Con and bought our costumes along the way.”

Ajay flips his towel cape behind him. “Four bucks from a homeless guy selling stuff. Instead of a yard sale, it was a shopping cart sale.”

The other boys start reciting what they paid for their makeshift costumes, but I just keep staring at Josh.

“So you came to rescue your poor humiliated sis, huh?” I say.

“Well, someone had to do it.” He shrugs.

“How’d you know Dad wouldn’t come through for me?”

Josh looks me in the eye. “If you haven’t noticed, Blaze, our dad is sort of an asshole.”

“I guess so,” I say. “But how is it you’re so okay with that?”

“I think it’s because I never really needed him.” Josh shrugs, then says meaningfully, “I’ve always had you.”

I put my hands over my face. “I’m so sorry about that stupid photo!”

“Are you kidding?” Josh says. “Coach is a jerkwad! You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Blaze, we got him for you,” says Ajay.

I let my hands drop, open my eyes wide and scan around the van at the four of them. Everything is quiet a moment, and I calmly ask, “What do you mean you
got
him
?”

The boys all look away, except Ajay, who tells me, “As soon as we found out he’s the one who posted the photo, we went out to the student lot and slashed the tires of his pickup.”

I wince. “How many tires did you slash?”

“All four of them.” Dylan grins.

Josh adds, “We each got to do one.”

“Guys!” I picture the risk they took just to get revenge on Mark. They totally stuck up for me. My heart swells with gratitude, and I realize love is the best superpower anyone could wish for. And it’s one I already have.

“That is so wrong,” I say, but I can’t keep the laughter out of my voice.

The boys look relieved as I picture Mark stuck with four flat tires trying to get a ride.
If
a
girl
drives
him, I hope she has read my comic
.

A new issue of
The
Blazing
Goddess
has been forming in my mind. It features a villain called the Gossip Monger, who turns people into cyborgs who believe everything they hear. The Blazing Goddess has to defeat him while defending the kids who are targeted by the mindless robots. I may need to include a vigilante gang of thirteen-year-old soccer players wearing crude superhero costumes and distributing justice. And of course I’ll want my own Comic Book Guy sidekick, armed with a plethora of snarky catchphrases. Thinking of Quentin gives me glow-in-the-dark insides. I rub my new ring with my thumb and think of how much work it’s going to take for me to rise like a phoenix out of the burning mess of my life. I’ll probably have to face horrible insults every day until graduation. My thoughts must show on my face, because Josh puts his hand on my back.

“Hey, Blaze,” he says, “everything’s going to work out just fine.”

And you know what? Maybe it’s the Superman suit, or maybe Josh just has some sort of telekinetic mutant powers or something, because hearing him say it, I actually believe it’s true. Things will work out just fine.

I give my brother a small smile, start up the van, roll down the window, and weave my way into the traffic crawling down 11th Avenue.

“Hey, Blaze,” Dylan calls from the back as I merge into the heavy flow of cars. “Do you think if I send in this coupon they’ll still send me these X-ray glasses?”

“Why, Dylan?” Andrew teases. “You want to come back here and see what Spider-Man is packing underneath his costume?”

“Hey, pass a few of those up here,” Josh calls to the back.

“I have to admit,” Ajay says, “these
Iron
Man
issues from the nineteen-eighties are pretty addictive.” In my rearview mirror, I see him grab another handful of comics off the giant mound in the back.

Oh, but wait.

Did you actually think we burned all those comics? Seriously?

When the boys and I went back to get the boxes, they helped me quickly empty them into the back of Superturd. Then we filled the empty boxes with stacks of the Comic-Con programs from the bins. All that burned were a bunch of programs, because, hey, my Dad may be a total asshole, but he did have a kickass collection of comics.

“Read up, boys!” I call back to my minivan-full of Superhero Cretins. “We’ve got a long drive home.”