Watch Your Step (35 page)

“Your parents love you,” she says.

My lips start to lift automatically. I force them back down. “Yes. I guess they do.”

“Abe's parents love him. Gabby's parents love her. Lemon's parents are so crazy about him they couldn't bring themselves to prank him while at camp.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, since she just found out about Mystery's secret group.

“Silly Seamus,” she says. “You must know by now that I see everything. Didn't the fact that the Kommissary mysteriously continued monitoring your troublemaking while you were home convince you of that?”

So that's how that happened. She must've installed some sort of trackers on our K-Paks before we left school for the summer.

“Then how'd you miss the secret meetings taking place under your nose?” I ask.

One of her eyebrows lifts into a high arch. “Do I sense . . .
tone
, Seamus? That's very unlike you.”

I start to defend myself, but stop. Because what's to defend?

“You're right. It is unlike me. And you know why? Because
I'm a good kid. Up until a few months ago, all I did was what everyone asked of me. I did my homework and got great grades. I made my bed and took out the trash. I tried to make my teachers and parents happy.” I pause and take a deep breath. “What I did
not
do . . . was kill Miss Parsippany. She's alive. I've talked to her. Which means I'm not a murderer. I've been lying about what I did and who I am for months.”

And there it is. The truth. Finally. Considering how mad she seems now, Annika will kick me out of Kilter instead of making me a teacher, but that's okay. Mom, Dad, and I will go home. Start over. Maybe not forget all of this ever happened if it brings us to a better place than we were before, but at least let it become the past so we can get started on the future.

Annika folds her arms over her chest. “You've been lying.”

“Yes. A lot.”

“You're very good at it.”

For a Troublemaker, this is a compliment. For a good kid, it's the opposite. So I don't thank her the way I would've before now.

“Well, if we're sharing secrets, I suppose it's my turn.” Annika pauses. “I knew.”

“What?”

“About Miss Parsippany. And about you. Not right away, of course. You wouldn't have been accepted into Kilter if I'd known the truth immediately. Once I did, I considered letting you go and ending your troublemaking career before it started. But by then, it was too late. Your career had already taken off. It was clear you possessed raw talent, the likes of which I'd never seen before.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she's saying. “But . . . when? How? Did you get my mom's e-mail? The one that I deleted from your K-Pak?”

“You deleted an e-mail from my K-Pak?”

“The day we got back from IncrimiNation. You left the room—and your computer. I saw the message and erased it before you could read it and send me away.”

I expect her to yell at me, but she smiles instead.

“I never saw your mother's e-mail. Nice work.”

Again, for a Troublemaker, this is a compliment. For me, it's not. So I don't say anything.

“As for how I learned the truth,” Annika continues, “let's just say I have my ways. As I do with so many things.” At this, she stands up and begins walking across the room, her hands clasped
behind her back. “You're very lucky, you know. To have parents who love you so. Not all children are as fortunate.” She turns and walks back the other way. “Do you recall the video I showed you and your classmates before announcing your first Ultimate Troublemaking Task?”

“Yes.” In it, a young Annika sat by a window, waiting for someone to come home. While she was watching snowflakes fall, she got a phone call. Whatever the caller said made her cry. The video ended right after that.

“When that video was taken, I was waiting for my father. He'd been away on business but promised to be home for Christmas. An hour after his scheduled arrival, he called to say that he wouldn't be coming home after all. That was the story of my childhood. My father cared so little for my sister and me, he saw us only when it was convenient for him. On the few occasions that we were together, he showered us with gifts and other meaningless tokens of affection.”

“Like Annika's Apex?” I ask.

“Precisely. Many wouldn't find an amusement park made just for them a meaningless gift, but I did. I knew my father gave it only to make up for his perpetual absence and
inattention. I'd have enjoyed it more if he'd spent time there with me. If we'd gone on rides together, and if he'd won me a stuffed animal from one of the game booths . . . but we didn't. It was just another grand yet empty gesture to distract me from the fact that he didn't love me enough to want to simply
be
with me.”

This is a lot to take in. I do my best. “So . . . that's why you were happy when Capital T set the carousel on fire? Because it reminded you of bad times you had as a kid?”

“Indeed. Especially since the bad times only got worse when my mother was no longer with us.”

I recall the newspaper clipping I accidentally saw in Annika's childhood bedroom several months ago. It announced Mrs. Kilter's passing away from a mysterious illness when Annika was twelve years old.

“I'm sorry about that,” I say.

“Thank you.” She takes a big breath, then releases it. “I am too. I was devastated when it happened. The only thing that kept me going was that I believed my father would be home after that. He'd have to be. But he wasn't. He was around just long enough to wipe a few tears away, but then it was back to business as usual.
In fact, he was around even less. He hired two live-in nannies to care for Nadia and me.”

“Didn't he love your mother?” I ask, shocked that any parent would leave his or her children in such awful circumstances.

“Yes, I believe he did. And it's possible that he left as quickly as he did to try to escape the pain. It's also possible that Nadia and I were excruciating reminders of his loss. But that doesn't excuse what he did.”

“No,” I agree, “it doesn't.”

“I tried to earn his love. I wrote him letters. I drew him pictures. When he was home, I cleaned and cooked and brought him his slippers, even though we had staff to do all those things. I did whatever I could think of to be the best daughter possible.”

“What happened?”

“It didn't work. So I was forced to try another approach.”

“Troublemaking?” I guess.

“You got it. Tricks. Pranks. Lies. Everything you've been taught at Kilter I tested on my father decades ago.”

“What happened then?”

“I definitely got his attention.”

“But not his love?”

She stops walking and faces me. “No. That continues to elude me to this very day.”

This very day? As in today? “Do you still see him?”

“All the time. He's my prisoner.”

My heart stops. Annika laughs.

“Don't look so alarmed. He's not locked up in a windowless cell. He can have all the sunshine and fresh air he wants. So long as he plays by my rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

She shrugs. “I ask that he stays where I can see him, within reason. And that he doesn't try to escape. And . . . that he teaches the Troublemakers of tomorrow about the Troublemakers of yesterday.”

She falls silent. Waits. Inside my head, fragments of information click together like puzzle pieces.

“Is your dad . . . Mr. Tempest?”

She winks. “And that, Seamus, is why I've kept you around.”

She resumes pacing. A million questions bounce around my brain. I ask the one that bounces harder and faster than the rest.

“Does Elinor know? That Mr. Tempest is her grandfather?”

“Probably not. My sister stopped speaking to him long ago, before Elinor was born. And I never told her he was working for me, so she didn't have this information to share with her daughter.”

“And you didn't tell Elinor that her grandpa was here? That she was seeing him every day?”

“I really don't see how that was my responsibility.”

“You're her
aunt
.”

Annika stills. With her back to me, she speaks slowly. Quietly. “True. But being related doesn't automatically make two people family. Telling Elinor about her grandfather wouldn't have been enough. It wouldn't have made up for everything else I did—and didn't do for her.” Annika pauses, then shakes her head. When she continues, her voice is normal. Sharp. “Besides. As you saw for yourself, my father isn't exactly good grandpa material. It's quite possible I did Elinor a favor by keeping them apart.”

I hate to say it, but this
is
possible. Still, shouldn't Elinor have at least known that she and Mr. Tempest were related? So she could've decided for herself if she wanted him to be family?

“Is that why his last name is different from yours and Nadia's?” I ask. “To help keep his real identity a secret from Elinor?”

“And everyone else. Plus, ‘Tempest' is an excellent name for my father. It means severe disturbance. And that's what he's always been.” Annika faces me. “Getting back to our history, when I was older and more experienced, I really got his attention. I pretended to be his secretary and canceled important business meetings around the world while he was still traveling to them. I infiltrated his financial accounts and drained every penny. I hacked his e-mail, wrote preposterous notes on his behalf, and blasted them to everyone in his address book. Soon his business, which had been everything to him, was gone. He had nothing.”

“Except you.”

“And Nadia. Who, by the way, only started IncrimiNation when she saw how successful Kilter had become. She was jealous. She still is. And she's been fighting to catch up for years.”

“Is that why Incriminators are so bad?” I ask. “Because she thinks the worse they are, the more attention she'll get?”

“Exactly. She's trying to outdo what I've done so well.”

I pick another question from the swirling mass inside my head. “And you started Kilter to try to help other kids with bad parents?”

She pauses. “Correct.”

“Will you ever let Mr. Tempest go?”

“He's free to leave anytime. All he has to do . . . is love me. Truly. Unconditionally. The way any parent should love his child.” Annika's voice has grown softer. When she speaks again, it's harder than I've ever heard it. “But he'd rather start a secret organization of parents. Form an army. Try to get back at me.”

For a moment, we're quiet. Annika stares off at nothing. I try to keep my head from exploding.

“Well,” I finally say. “Good luck with everything. I'll be thinking of you guys. When I'm home.”

Annika looks at me. “You're not going home.”

I swallow. “But Miss Parsippany's alive. I lied.”

“Better than any Troublemaker ever has.”

“But—”

“Seamus. You have great power. You're capable of doing so much good for countless kids around the world.”

I shake my head. “Thanks, but I don't think so. I know I've made a lot of trouble, but I'm just . . . not a Troublemaker. I don't have that kind of power.”

“Yes. You do. Right now you're wielding it more than you ever have.” She smiles. “Don't you see? No one else knows what you do. I've told you all my secrets. That's how much I want you to stay.
That's
how powerful you are. And together we can change the world!”

I have to admit, when she puts it like this . . . I do feel a little like a superhero. But then I glimpse Mom's quilt draped across the back of the chair. I remember Ike's warning. I remind myself that even though Annika claims to want to assist countless kids with bad parents, the only person she really cares about is herself.

“I'm sorry,” I say, backing away. “But I can't help you. Not anymore. My parents and I have made a lot of mistakes. And we might not have the best relationship, but it can get better. So we're going to work on it. At home.”

As I'm talking, Annika walks toward me, matching my pace step for step. When my feet move faster, so do hers. When I bump into something and stop, she does too.

“Whoopsie!” Dad exclaims. “Sorry about that, son. Your mother and I are all dry and ready to go when you are.”

I turn around and see him and Mom standing by the cafeteria's main entrance.

“Yoo-hoo!” A familiar female voice sings somewhere nearby. “Annika! I'm here! I made it! And you'll never guess who I brought with—”

“Miss Parsippany?” I ask as a woman who looks a lot like my former substitute teacher and current pen pal bursts through the cafeteria's back door.

Miss Parsippany freezes. She looks from me, to my parents, to Annika, and back to me.

“Seamus! What a surprise! I had no idea—”

“Seamus?” Another voice calls out. This one's also familiar, but male. “You mean Hinkle? What's
he
—”

“Bartholomew John?” I stare at my archnemesis. He can't really be standing next to Miss Parsippany . . . can he?

“Bartholomew John?” A third familiar voice asks. This one belongs to Lemon. He, Elinor, Abe, and Gabby, have come back to the cafeteria. “As in the kid who took your fish sticks? And made your life miserable?”

“Whoa.” Dad holds both hands before him, like he's trying to stop the crazy scene from getting crazier. “Does anyone know what's going on here?”

“Of course,” Annika says easily. “We're waiting.”

“For what?” Mom asks.

Annika looks at me. Her eyes glitter. “For Seamus to decide.”

“Decide what?” Elinor asks nervously.