She didn’t even shake her head. She was wilting, head bowed, back curved—and stopped herself. She was Compass Rose, and maybe her friends ditched her, but if she wanted to be a superhero maybe she should start acting like it, even in handcuffs standing next to a cop car. How would one of the old-school heroes stand in this situation? Not necessarily Captain Olympus, who’d bust out of any situation before he could get close to getting arrested, of course. But one of the others, like the Hawk, who hadn’t had powers but was clever and strong on his own. Or maybe her father, Dr. Mentis. She’d seen pictures of him when he was younger. He never wore a skin-suit uniform like the others but always appeared in a plain suit and trench coat. Everyday clothes. Maybe she ought to do something like that, fool people by appearing perfectly normal. But everyone knew he had power, and he always seemed like he was studying the people around him, looking right through them.
Rolling her shoulders, she tried to stand like she imagined they would, back straight, chin up, gaze cold, glaring at Paulson. Maybe pretending to be strong was enough.
Paulson sighed then, scratching his head and wincing like he had a problem he didn’t know what to do with. “Get in,” he said, opening the back door and guiding her inside, hand on the back of her head. She couldn’t even come up with a snappy one-liner to throw at him.
He closed the door on her and walked off to confer with the other officers. She perched on the seat, trying not to squish her cuffed hands, and sighed. This was bad. It was a disaster. But it looked like she would survive it without imploding. She just had to wait for it all to be over. The minutes dragged.
Finally, he hiked back to the car, and she perked up, donning her gritty persona. The glaring one.
He opened the back door and leaned on it, opposite hand on his hip, just studying her. He seemed tired.
“What exactly is it you kids think you’re doing? Besides messing up entire blocks of already broken-down neighborhoods?”
On reflection, that was a really good question. “Save the world” seemed a bit grandiose. “Petty competition between rivals” was probably closer to the mark, but also not quite right.
She leaned back to catch his gaze and said, “Are you working with Celia West to track us down?”
Paulson hesitated, appearing to think for a long time, looking out at the street, then the sky, then her. “We’re keeping an eye on you, to keep you from getting hurt. That’s all.”
The shame and dread from the arrest faded, shoved aside by anger and a vague embarrassment. Here was confirmation. All this time, they thought they were being clever, sneaking around, successfully hiding their identities, and if not doing good, at least doing something. But Mom knew everything and was letting them do it. Indulging them.
She slumped back against the seat, not caring about her squished hands, and let out a deflated breath.
Paulson added, “I’m playing along, but I’m not happy about it. You all should be safe at home, not running around pretending like you’re some kind of junior Olympiad. And I’ve told that to Celia.”
“Then why do you go along with her?”
He said, “Just in case I’m wrong and she’s right.”
Gently, he took her arm and helped her back out of the car. Unlocked the cuffs and let her hands fall to her sides.
“You’re not arresting me?”
“No. Not this time. But you kids—you people need to be more careful, okay? Just … be careful.”
When she met his gaze this time, he seemed worried. Maybe even scared. A whole other story lay behind the one she thought she was in, Anna realized. Her father would know. Her father so desperately wanted her to talk to him. Maybe she should. If she told him her secret, maybe he would explain everything, like opening a book. Reading secrets in someone’s mind must not have been anything like hearing someone say the words.
Captain Paulson left her standing on the sidewalk, got back in the car, drove off. Just like that.
By then, the patrol cars had packed up their suspects and driven off, leaving her alone in the dark, looking around, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. They’d put up a portable plastic barricade and strung yellow police tape around the wreck of the SUV. The sound of water trickled along the gutters as the ice slick melted.
She jogged up a few blocks until she reached the main block where the late bus still ran, where she pulled off her mask and acted like a normal person until she got home. She kept thinking Teddy would circle back around to try to find her. But no, their trajectories carried them in straight lines, away. She could have called Teddy, she supposed, but she didn’t feel like waiting for him.
An hour or so after the whole thing went down, Teddy texted her: “UOK?”
She texted back “FU” and switched her phone off.
She was done with this whole vigilante crap.
* * *
On the ride to school the next morning, Bethy stared at Anna the whole time. Studying her, until Anna finally rounded on her. “What?”
“You look like one of the kids in the antidrug commercials.”
Was it the shadows under her eyes? The gauntness because she hadn’t been eating well? Or the surly glare?
When Anna didn’t say anything, Bethy went on. “Is that what it is? You don’t have superpowers, you’re doing drugs?”