The Other Way
Chapter Nine
Danny stared at the cast on Taylor's arm for a long moment before looking up at her. He was taller than she was, but she stood halfway up the staircase. It was ... hard, looking at her these days. Sometimes he saw the baby girl she used to be, learning to walk, learning to fall forward instead of falling down.
At other times, he saw Annette.
"What?"
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Taylor always hated Winslow High, but today her hatred was something new. Before, she had been part of the system, the bottom rung of the social ladder, a foundational piece for people better connected and with better social skills to step on.
She had broken free from that role and had been replaced in a day. That would be Charlotte's burden until Taylor took the whole system and flipped it upside down. She wasn't sure how just yet, but the worst thing she could do was nothing.
She arrived early and roamed the halls. Normally she went to school as late as she could without getting marked as tardy, or she would hurry to homeroom as fast as possible to claim sanctuary in Mrs. Knott's computer class. But today she set to work making sure that she wouldn't be caught off guard.
She kept her eyes out for her old bullies, and had a house fly land on each one she found. For the trio, Emma, Sophia, and Madison, she planted a tick on each one of them, or at least their clothes. She watched out for the major gangs, too. The gang members weren't subtle, and usually advertised with tattoos or a specific color coordination. The Empire Eighty-Eight got ants, the Azn Bad Boys got termites, and Skidmark's gang, called the Merchants, got weevils.
She wasn't sure of how she managed to keep track of over two hundred people at once, but it was all there in her head, her swarm marking her enemies by their own unique biologies. Taylor didn't know how many rules she was breaking by doing this. She wasn't hurting anyone—yet—but ever since she opened the PRT handbook on their regulations, she felt like she needed to file an official request form and consult a ten-day weather forecast before making a butterfly flap its wings.
Charlotte got a ladybug. Taylor didn't smile when they saw each other. Sure, they were in this together, but what they were together in was the pit of hell and that wasn't worth smiling about.
"Taylor!" she said. "What happened to your arm?"
Taylor looked down at her cast, partially to avoid making eye contact while she came up with a lie. "Um, oh. Yeah. You know, you're the first person to mention it."
"Huh. So what happened?"
Even a distorted version of the truth, that she had gotten caught up in a cape fight, was interesting enough to be spread around. A car accident was sufficiently mundane, but too serious. "A bike accident."
"You fell off your bike?"
Taylor didn't own a bike, and if Charlotte ever came over to her house, her web of lies might unravel. "No, someone hit me with theirs. I was on the sidewalk and he crashed into me. Um, it's not as serious as it looks." It was a massive bruise filled with pudding and suffering. "It's just sprained. I'll probably get it taken off tomorrow."
Charlotte tilted her head. "You got a cast on your arm for a sprain?"
Before Taylor could respond, Charlotte stumbled over an outstretched foot. Taylor caught her with her good arm, spotted the offending foot, followed up the offending leg, and slammed the offending person against a nearby wall.
"Try something like that again," she hissed, "and I will murder you!"
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I'm a cape," she said again. She took a deep breath. "I have powers, a costume, the works."
Danny blinked slowly, trying to make sense of things. The last time he had seen his daughter in a costume was the last time she had gone Trick or Treating for Halloween, dressed up as Alexandria. The idea of her getting powers was a possibility, but in the same way that winning the lottery was a possibility.
"Show me."
She swallowed, and her face looked paler than usual. A buzzing arose out of the background noise of the world and grew louder as a mass of flies gathered in front of him, forming a barrier between him and his little girl.
"I can control bugs."
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The girl's name was Julia, and while she wasn't one of the main three, she had always been eager to join in on their games. There weren't any ticks around, so apparently the girl had decided to show some initiative.
Now she was afraid, her usually smug blue eyes growing wide.
"What the hell, Hebert?" another girl said. Tiffany. Taylor ignored her. A light concentration of gnats in the air would warn her if anyone came up behind her. Everyone except for Tiffany kept their distance, interested in case a fight broke out. But without Emma, Sophia, or Madison to encourage their minions, that wasn't going to happen.
Taylor kept her eyes focused on Julia until her will broke.
Divide. Conquer.
Isolate. Annihilate.
"Do you understand me?" she whispered.
Julia gave a timid nod, and Taylor released her.
"Someone forgot to take her chill pill today," Tiffany said.
Taylor turned slowly toward her and looked her dead in the eye until Tiffany looked away. It didn't take long, possibly because of the bugs that were flying too close to the girl's eyes, but the effect was the same.
Taylor went back to Charlotte's side and walked down the hall with her, and the rest of the crowd went their own ways after seeing that there wasn't going to be anymore entertainment.
"What was that?" Charlotte asked.
"You'll get used to that sort of thing," Taylor explained. "They'll trip you, laugh when you fall, then blame you for being clumsy. I used to spend all day with my head down so they wouldn't catch me off guard, but it's better to just keep track of everyone in their group so you can avoid them entirely."
"Right. The tripping thing. That was exactly what I was asking about."
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Danny stared at the swarm. There was a synchronization to the bugs' movements that was almost hypnotic to watch. He stared at his daughter through the haze. "Taylor, you can't fight criminals with bugs! They have guns!"
Taylor's face soured and the swarm between them grew louder, as though angry. "Dad, since I started going out, I've helped capture Lung, Bakuda, Cricket, Victor, Alabaster, Rune, and Othella." She counted off the names on her fingers. "And all I got in return was a broken arm. I think that's pretty good."
Danny didn't follow the cape scene, not like Taylor did, but he recognized a cape name when he heard one. She wasn't just going after criminals. She was going after villains.
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Taylor knew something was off the moment she stepped into homeroom. Mrs. Knott was by far her favorite teacher—not that that was saying much. Heck, on a scale of one to ten, Mr. Gladly was a negative three. Still, Mrs. Knott gave her the space she needed, and more than that, she seemed to appreciate Taylor for what she was—a quiet girl who did her work without bothering anyone.
But today, Mrs. Knott looked at her like she had never seen Taylor before in her life. There was something calculating in her expression, and then, most peculiar of all, she nodded to her as though in respect.
The same thing continued throughout her morning. Mr. Quinlan, who probably couldn't remember her name without checking his seating chart, gave a double take when he saw her. It wasn't until her world studies class with Mr. Gladly when it all came together.
Mr. Gladly, "everyone's friend," smiled at her with the same plastic smile that he greeted everyone with, then he gave her the most obvious of conspiratorial winks. That unsettled her so much, she could barely appreciate how Julia had chosen the furthest seat from her available.
There wasn't a group project today, fortunately, but throughout the lecture (about the organization and beginning years of the Protectorate, with three Triumverate action figures as visual aids), Mr. Gladly kept on smiling at her, as though he were speaking to her directly and the rest of the class were bystanders. Taylor responded by staring fixedly at the wall and pretending that she wasn't there.
And in a way, she wasn't. Mentally, she was with her swarm all over the school. Most of her attention was on Charlotte, but she also had her bugs performing a systematic locker search, after having tagged every gang member's locker she could with a box elder bug. She kept notes in the same code she developed months ago when she decided to become a cape whenever she found something worth remembering. It would take weeks to get through every locker in the school, but as long as she had to be here, she might as well make the most of it.
The bell could not ring soon enough. When it did, Taylor gathered up her things to meet up with Charlotte. The next period was lunch, and the cafeteria had too many dangers that Charlotte wouldn't be watching out for.
"Taylor, could I have a word?" Mr. Gladly said as she started to leave.
Taylor hesitated. On the other side of the school, Charlotte left her own classroom and was heading toward her locker. It had been broken into, and Taylor had been hoping to reach her before she found out about it.
Still, she couldn't come up with an excuse to leave. "Okay." She waited as the rest of the students filed out, some of them glancing back at her as though wondering if she was in trouble. Maybe she was.
"How are you feeling?" he said cheerfully after they were alone.
"Fine." What do you want?
"I see you broke your arm."
"Yes." Stop making small talk and get to the point.
He took a deep breath and seemed to be able to read her blatantly obvious mood. "Well, I just wanted to congratulate you on your new job."
She stopped. "What?"
"You know." He smiled knowingly. "Your new job. Is that where you hurt your arm? Don't answer that, I'm not supposed to pry. But I just wanted you to know that I understand how hard it can be to juggle work and school, especially with a job as demanding as yours. And if there's anything I can do to make your life at school easier, just let me know."
She stared numbly at him, fitting the pieces together. She knew that the schools worked together with the Wards program, but to have her face rubbed in it like this ... it made her feel sick. No, not sick. Angry. It had taken every ounce of her courage to come out to her dad, and then to have her secret identity pimped out to the entire faculty ...
She grit her teeth. "You really want to know how you can help me, Mr. Gladly?"
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"That's dangerous." Danny felt like an idiot as soon as he said it.
She shrugged, then winced as the action jostled her broken arm. "And?"
He hesitated. "And ... and I don't want you getting hurt!"
Her eyes narrowed. "You're fine with me going to school. And you know what's happening to me there!"
He wasn't fine with her going to school. Every morning he worried that he'd get another call like the one he got in January. "That's different," he said lamely.
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"You're always so eager to help people who don't need it," Taylor said, gripping the straps of her backpack. "Always happy to help when it doesn't cost you anything."
Mr. Gladly hesitated. "I mean, I'm just offering," he said. "If you don't need anything ..."
"Oh, I needed your help, Mr. Gladly. I needed it since the start of the school year, but you were too busy making life easier for people who already had it easy." Helping the people who were hurting me.
On the other side of the school, Charlotte opened her locker and found it empty. Taylor didn't have enough bugs around to pick up the finer details, but she thought she picked up a scream as she kicked the metal frame in front of her. Meanwhile, all three ticks were close enough to enjoy the show.
Dammit, Taylor needed to be there, not here! "You've let down everyone who's been depending on you. You want to help me now? I pray to God you die alone, because anyone would have to be a fool to rely on you."
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"How?" Taylor demanded. "How is it different?"
The obvious answer that super villains were more dangerous than bullies didn't hold water. He knew what the bullies had done to her, how they had worn her down and tore her up. Super villains could only hurt her on the outside. The easy answer, that skipping school was against the law, was even worse. If he thought that committing high treason could help his little girl, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
"Because you can get through it!" he said, taking a step forward up the stairs. He had expected the swarm to get out of his way, but instead the bugs began landing on him. He did his best to ignore them. "I know that life's rough for you now, but I don't want a few bad choices to hold you back in the future. You can get through this, Taylor, and you'll be able to do great things when this is over."
Taylor stared at him. "Don't you get it, Dad?" she said softly. "I can do great things now."
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Taylor caught up with Charlotte before she made it to the cafeteria. She had a sour look on her face, but Charlotte's expression lightened a bit when she saw her.
"Rough day?" Taylor asked.
Charlotte let out a sigh. "You would not believe it."
"I might."
She hesitated. "I guess you would. Well, someone broke into my locker. Cleared out the whole thing. Textbooks, my backpack, my jacket, everything."
Taylor nodded, but she already knew that. She had practically watched it happen. She suspected that Sophia had done the deed, but she hadn't verified anything. Later on, though, Taylor planned to fish Charlotte's backpack out of the garbage bin in the girl's bathroom and pretend that she had found in on accident. Charlotte might grow suspicious if Taylor did that sort of thing too often, but dammit, Taylor wished that she'd had someone looking out for her when she had been Victim Number One.
"The school will charge you for the textbooks too," Taylor said. "And I guarantee that they not investigate who stole them at all."
Charlotte stared at her. "Why not?"
Taylor shrugged. "Investigations take a lot of time and effort. Victim blaming doesn't. I haven't used my locker since January."
She nodded. "That makes sense." Then she paused. "Oh. Sorry."
Taylor shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't go to the cafeteria."
Charlotte blinked. "What?"
"It's a crowd of people. You can do anything you want in a crowd and get away with it. You'll have food thrown at you before you even sit down."
"Really?"
Taylor nodded. "I haven't used the cafeteria since my freshman year."
"But ..." Charlotte stared at the cafeteria doors, looking through them.
"Charlotte, I've been putting up with this for a year and a half. There's a time to endure, and a time to avoid. All of your enemies are in there." Taylor knew their exact locations. "One of them alone will try to hurt you just because she's bored. All of them together will compete to see who can hurt you the most."
Still Charlotte hesitated, as though hoping that if she pretended that everything was alright, it would be. Taylor had been there. Her life had changed so drastically, so horribly that all she had was desperate fantasy.
"Besides," she said more gently, "the cafeteria food is horrible, and I have a pita wrap in my backpack you can have."
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"I can do things now," she said again. "Do you know how long it's been since I could say that? I don't learn anything at school, I just suffer there. Then all I do at home is dreading going back to school. There's always been the 'plan' to graduate, go to college, and maybe have a life where everyone around me isn't a complete monster, but I won't make it that long! And now, I don't have to."
Danny looked at her helplessly. "But ... but can't you let the heroes deal with them? The other heroes, I mean?"
"But that's just the thing," she said. "They can't."
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They sat together on a bus stop bench. The school was still in range, so Taylor kept track of the Trio, their lackeys, and the gangs while Charlotte ate her pita wrap. The lunch rush was just beginning, but the street they were on was fairly quiet.
"I mean," Charlotte said, "the worst thing, well, not the worst thing, but one of them, is I never know if it's them, or if I'm just being paranoid. Like, just today my bio teacher told me I didn't turn in my assignment yesterday, and I know I did, so I don't know if Mrs. Churchton lost it or if this was a devious act of sabotage by the Local Bully League."
"What period was this?"
"Biology? Third."
Third period. Taylor had third period with Mr. Quinlan and Emma. "And you turn papers in by passing them down the row?"
Charlotte nodded as she took a bite.
"Are Sophia or Madison in your class?" She already knew the answer to that, but she had to pretend like she didn't.
"Sophia is, but she's on the other side of the room."
"Who sits two desks in front of you?"
Charlotte thought for a moment. "A girl named Alison. Alison ... Stewart? Stackton? She's blonde. Does that help?"
Whoever it was, she'd had a fly on her. "You always have to look out for whoever's two desks in front of you. Any later and they'll get the papers mixed up, any sooner and you'll see them steal it. See if you can get a seat change. Until then, skip the line and turn your homework in in person."
Charlotte shook her head. "This whole thing is messed up. I mean, how long are they going to keep on doing this?" She looked at Taylor, and then she suddenly looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry. You probably don't want to hear me whine about this, after, you know ..."
Don't apologize. Do you have any idea what you being here means to me? You could never dream how long and how much I've wanted someone who could understand, just a little bit, what I've been through.
"That's okay," Taylor said instead. "It helps to talk."
Charlotte fell silent for a moment, the pita wrap half eaten in her hands. "Hey, Taylor? Why are you doing this for me? And don't give me any nonsense about how I would do the same thing if our positions were reversed, because they were reversed last week and I didn't do a thing."
A large truck whizzed by them, giving Taylor a moment to gather her thoughts. "You know, I really hated you last week. I hated you as much as I hated Emma, Sophia, or anyone else that was actively trying to hurt me. For the last year I was thinking, how hard would it be for just one person to step in and say, 'This isn't right, this shouldn't be happening?' But every last one of you from the students to the teachers and the goddamn principal looked the other way and let it happen.
"But that was a week ago, and you're not letting it happen anymore, you're the one it's happening too. And ... and if I were to ignore it like everyone else when you need help like I needed it, then I'd be the one letting it happen."
Charlotte stared off into the distance. "Back in January when you, you know, we wanted to do something, me and my friends. We'd tell a teacher or something, I don't know. But Emma Barnes must have gotten wind of it—I swear the girl has a working spy network or something—because she came over and started chatting with us one day.
"I always knew her as one of the cool kids, but that was the first time I ever really talked to her, and let me tell you, she freaked me out. It was like she grew up ripping the wings off butterflies and never figured out that people were any different. It was the way she looked at you, like she'd strike just before you were ready for her and hurt you just a little bit more than you could handle.
"Then she started talking about the locker incident, all cold eyes and bright smiles, and said that the school had it handled and that smart girls like us didn't need to get involved." Charlotte took a deep breath. "I think we were all looking for an excuse to back down, and she gave it to us."
Taylor wasn't sure what to think about that. It helped, a little, to know that people had been frightened into doing nothing instead of that they were just lazy, but not much. The fact that Emma personally worked to smooth things over during the aftermath was interesting, but not entirely helpful.
"Well, even if you did tell someone, I doubt much would have happened," Taylor said. "The school doesn't have a witness protection program, and Winslow really loves their track stars."
"And I think Emma's father is like a lawyer or something," Charlotte added.
"Right, that too."
"But I could do something now, couldn't I? I don't have anything to lose anymore, and I don't think there's a statute of limitations on biological warfare."
Taylor shook her head. "The rest of the evidence has expired." And you have no idea how much more you have left to lose.
"Okay, we'll skip the authorities and go directly to the bullies. Scare them off."
Myriad could be flat out terrifying, but Taylor Hebert? "I don't see that working, to be honest."
Charlotte gave her an incredulous look. "Seriously? I saw what you did to Julia today."
Taylor thought back to that morning. "I barely did anything to her."
"And she nearly wet herself. I mean, come on, you know what people say about you."
That I should chug a gallon of bleach and die. That I'm stupid, ugly, and smell bad. That I should give up on school so the rest of them don't have to look at me anymore. No. That was what they said to her. "What do they say about me?"
Charlotte hesitated. "Well, you know. We all saw you get carted away by the police and the paramedics. We all knew what had happened to you. Most of us thought that that you were going to drop out or switch schools, and if you came back at all it would be with a sawed off shotgun. Then you did come back, and it was like the whole thing didn't even phase you."
It did phase her. It did a lot more than that. It broke her, changed her, and she came back anyway because ... because ...
"Kids throw rocks at hornet nests because they know it's a bad idea," Charlotte continued. "I don't think it would take much to make them afraid of you. I think most of them already are. And if they're not ..." She shrugged. "Maybe they should be."
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"I could bring up the statistics," Taylor said, "tell you how much the villains outnumber the heroes, maybe quote some homicide rates. I could tell you that when Bakuda surgically implanted bombs into over a hundred people that she could set off with her big toe, the PRT had just enough resources to wait for her to get tired of killing people. But the thing is, Dad, the heroes aren't winning. They can make people feel safe, sure, go on camera, put on a show, but they're outnumbered, outmatched, and they need me."
Danny stared at his daughter, gripping the banister. Taylor had been doubly cursed by both her parents, inheriting the most dangerous traits of both. Danny had given her his awkward gracelessness, his insecurities, and, worst of all, his temper. Oh, his temper. His own father had been nothing but temper, temper and fists. Danny had always been so worried about what he had given her, he sometimes forgot what Taylor had gotten from her mother.
Annette had been born with the soul of a crusader. She'd had a focus that excluded all else and threw herself into a cause no matter what the cost, whether it was a crusade against ignorance, misogyny, or the HOA.
They need me.
A lie. She needed them to need her. After they'd had Taylor, Annette had settled down mostly, but as Taylor grew she needed her mother less and less, and Annette began to seek out another cause to satisfy her.
The whole time they had known each other, his anger and her crusade had clashed only once. That had been four years ago, and while he had never raised his fist against her, his words had killed her in every way that mattered.
Danny relived that night every day since, remembering all the things that he shouldn't have said, and the one thing that he should have. He'd give anything to go back and redo that conversation.
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Taylor sat in the principal's office, looking up at Blackwell. Blackwell looked imposing behind her desk, but it was an illusion. They were about the same height; Blackwell just had a higher chair. When she had been younger, Taylor used to think that there would be more substance to the adult world, but instead it was just a more convincing form of posturing.
"Do you know why you're here, Taylor?"
Taylor had been planning on speaking with the principal soon, but not this soon. At the beginning of her art class she had been sent down, at least a week ahead of schedule.
She considered Blackwell's question. So far that day, she'd said some overly honest things to Julia, said some even more honest things to Mr. Gladly, technically ditched school, though only for the lunch period, and used her parahuman abilities to perform an unsanctioned search on a large portion of the student body.
"I wouldn't want to waste your time guessing, Principal."
Blackwell gave her a narrow look. "A glib tongue doesn't suit you, Taylor." If that counts as glib to you, then you are truly within the inner circles of hell. "I'll make this simple for you. Did you or did you not threaten one of your teachers today?"
Ah. So this was about the Gladly affair. Blackwell didn't mention him by name, of course. That was Taylor's job, which Blackwell could then take as an admission of guilt. She didn't tell Taylor what she was being accused of at first for the same reason.
But Taylor hadn't threatened him. She had been candid with him, sure, but ... but that was the play, wasn't it? She was supposed to present her alibi of a lesser crime to absolve her of the greater crime, and then get punished for the lesser crime that she just confessed to.
"Well?"
She couldn't go on the defensive. That was like giving up, but slower. She had only one option left.
"Mr. Gladly was careless with confidential information," Taylor said. "We wear masks for a reason, Principal, and our identities are only given out on a need to know basis under the premise that those informed will be discreet. And yet today while discussing capes in class he frequently singled me out, and he held me back after the bell rang to discuss my new job.
"That's the sort of information that has gotten heroes killed, Mrs. Blackwell, and he was treating it like a game. I could have, of course, gone through the official channels, but Director Piggot doesn't like to be bothered with low level problems, and has given me permission to deal with such problems however I see fit." That was, at best, a liberal interpretation of the director's command to stop wasting her time, but it was hardly Taylor's fault if Piggot was vague. "So I disciplined him."
Blackwell's eyes widened. "You did what?"
"I hurt his feelings," she clarified. "He's a very sensitive man. I honestly don't know where he got the idea that I threatened him, but again, he's very sensitive."
Blackwell took a deep breath. "You do not have the authority to discipline teachers, Taylor, regardless of your current occupation."
"No," she agreed. "But I do have the authority to file an official complaint, make a formal accusation, and rain down red tape like the wrath of a bureaucratic god upon the entire school. Maybe get Mr. Gladly arrested for reckless endangerment." Huh. That idea was starting to sound pretty good. Well, it was too late for that now. "But speaking of my current occupation, I met Shadow Stalker."
Taylor had checked with her bugs. The only person nearby was the principal's secretary, and she was too far away to hear anything. Blackwell hesitated. "Oh?"
Taylor nodded. "And that was a surprise, let me tell you."
Blackwell met her gaze. She didn't even look embarrassed. "She's not whom I would chosen. I take it you would not have chosen her either."
That was putting it lightly. "She's a monster."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "She has a discipline problem, certainly, but—"
"January," Taylor snapped, trying—and failing—to keep her voice calm. "The first day back from break. The locker. That was her."
"I see." She didn't sound surprised, but maybe Taylor was reading too much into her tone. "Are you making a formal accusation?"
She let out a bitter laugh. "A formal accusation? Can you imagine what would have happened if I had done that at the beginning of the year? Me, a nobody with no proof, no friends, and no witnesses—despite the hundred people who saw it happen—against Winslow High's favorite little monster? What do you think would have happened?"
"And you think that this is because of her position on the Wards team." It wasn't a question.
"Am I wrong?"
"Yes," she said flatly. "I don't know how well you understand how the Wards program works with the schools, Ms. Hebert, but if anything the Wards are held doubly accountable for their actions. If you get detention, you can't patrol. When you're suspended, you're benched."
"The same goes for when you're failing classes," Taylor finished. "I know, and it's idiotic. Sorry, but it is. The teachers aren't going to report a hero, not when it means that there's one less cape stopping bad guys. The heroes might as well be holding the world hostage; no one's going to get in our way when we're the one's keeping people safe."
"Perhaps," she admitted. Finally. "But you can't blame us for that. I have to look out for everyone, and there is a strong gang presence in this school. We don't have a budget for security guards, cameras last about a day before they are vandalized beyond repair, and we haven't had a working metal detector in years. In the event of a school shooter or worse, Shadow Stalker could arrive long before any of the other heroes. So if some of the teachers are grateful that she has chosen to stay here instead of transfering to Arcadia with the rest of the Wards ..." She waved her hand in a way that conveyed the same emotion as a shrug.
"I see. So she's your one girl security system." Taylor paused for a moment, trying to remember something. "Wasn't there a school shooting in Maryland last month? No capes, just someone with a loaded gun and an unloaded mind. Four dead, three injured. It makes sense that you would be concerned with something like that. I makes sense that you would make sacrifices for the greater good."
Blackwell hesitated, as though trying to decide if Taylor's tone was sarcastic.
"You know, when I first got my powers, I thought about becoming a hero, but that wasn't the only thing I thought about. Sometimes I would think about bringing my bugs to school with me and taking ... well, not quite justice, but justice rounded to the nearest whole number. About a thousand people go to this school. Finding five thousand black widows is a walk in the park for me." She narrowed her eyes. "You weren't making sacrifices for the greater good, you were sacrificing me for the greater good, and you got lucky."
She felt her bugs converging on her location, but she didn't send them away. Why should she? All her secrets had been stolen from her; she had nothing left to hide.
"Are you threatening me, Ms. Hebert?" She was trying to sound indignant, but her voice came out as scared.
These people are already afraid of me, she thought. And if not, maybe they should be.
"No, I'm criticizing you." Taylor shook her head. "Why is it that you people can never tell the difference?"
Blackwell's eye twitched. "There's a centipede on your face."
Was there? Huh. "I brought enough for everybody."
"Now that was a threat."
"No, that was an offer." She cocked her head. "Didn't you say that the school didn't have enough resources to look out for everyone? You haven't used all your resources. You can't afford security cameras? Well that's what I am. Every bug under my control is a tiny camera only I can use, and I have brought enough for everybody."
Blackwell frowned thoughtfully. "In my experience, it's best for the heroes to leave their capes at home."
"Your experience is Shadow Stalker. And she's not the sort of hero you would have chosen. I spent the day surveilling the gangs, people with Empire Eighty-Eight tattoos or Azn Bad Boy colors. Already I have identified seven lockers with drugs in them." The lockers were school property, not private property. She didn't need a search warrant for them, but she probably needed the principal's permission to do anything with it. "If you wait another week, we might be able to curb the gang presence that has you worried."
She was grossly exaggerating. Right now her bugs couldn't reliably tell the difference between coffee and cocaine, but she doubted that very many white boys with shaved heads and alliterative tattoos came to school with coffee powder in a plastic bag. Still, she had been practicing and the PRT easily had a metric ton of narcotics.
Blackwell seemed to consider that. "And what do you get out of this, Ms. Hebert? Brownie points with your superiors?"
Taylor hadn't considered that, but she could see it now. If Piggot found out that Taylor had single handedly cleaned up Winslow High, the director might become so dispassionate, she might break the world record for indifference. But no, Taylor had her sights set on something much greater.
"All I want," she said, "is a school that's safe to go to. When I got out of the hospital, you promised my dad that it would be, that you would be looking out for me. You lied. So I'm looking out for myself, and everyone else. All I need from you is someone to administer the punishments and allow me to relay the evidence I find while protecting my identity."
Blackwell clasp her hands over her desk. The clock ticked slowly on the wall. "I expect you to be on your best behavior from now on, Taylor. You will not talk back to your teachers, threaten them, or 'discipline' them. You said that heroes shouldn't get special treatment; that applies to you too. And I reserve the right to call a stop to this at any time."
"Agreed."
"In that case," she said slowly, "I look forward to working with you."
"Likewise," Taylor said. "Unless you need me to return to my art class, we can start now."
"Now? I thought you needed a week."
"For the gangs, yes. We need to hit them all at once or they'll have time to react. But there are much worse things than gangs here." The tick that had broken into Charlotte's locker sat in a room on the north side of the school. Bug senses were terrible at seeing the big picture, but Taylor only needed to focus on the right detail. The girl wore her hair in a long braid.
"I'd like to report a theft."
WWW
And now, Danny realized that he finally had that chance.
"Taylor," he said. "You know I love you." Dammit, you'd think he'd be better than this, after all the times he had rehearsed this in his head.
How many times had Taylor gone out in costume? More than once. How long before that had she gotten powers? Long enough to learn how to use them and get a costume, so at least a while. Why had it taken her so long to talk to him?
Because she hated him? Because he let her down when she needed him the most? After Annette died, when she was dealing with bullies at school, where was he?
No, that wasn't it. But Taylor had seen too much to think that Danny could handle everything that life threw at them, to think that he could handle this.
WWW
Sophia Hess opened the door to the principal's office. She didn't look worried, just angry. Her eyes narrowed when she Taylor, standing in the back of the room. Taylor didn't smile or sneer. There was no point in taunting her just yet, and this was too important to risk messing up for a moment of satisfaction.
"What's the deal?" she asked
"Sophia," the principal said. "Have a seat."
She sat in the same chair that Taylor had been in a few minutes ago. With the principal in the front and Taylor in the back, Sophia couldn't look at both of them at once. That was deliberate, on Taylor's part. She wanted Sophia to feel trapped, to feel surrounded. It would throw her off balance, at least in theory.
In practice, Sophia lounged in the chair, almost sideways with one arm hanging over the back.
"Do you know why you're here?" Blackwell asked.
She shrugged. "I'm guessing Hebert's been talking crap about me."
Blackwell glanced at Taylor. She had never tried to seem likable or friendly, just respectable. Taylor had spoken to her like an equal, at least in a way. That wasn't completely appropriate, but Sophia spoke to her like an annoyance.
So far, so good.
"The locker of one Charlotte Foer has been broken into today," Blackwell said. "Do you know anything about that?"
"Charlotte who?" She shrugged again. "Can't say I do."
"Oh, give it a rest already," Taylor snapped. "I already saw you do it."
Sophia turned to her, her eyes angry. "You've had your bugs on me, freak?"
Taylor had some of her flies gather in front of her in the form of a large eye. "Of course. I know you. Why would I waste my time watching anyone else? And you couldn't even make it through the day."
"Uh-huh. And how well can you see with your bugs? Can you even tell one person from another?"
"I can see good enough to know that you have fourth period in room two-seventeen." Taylor had needed to check a floor map to get the number right, but that was beside the point. "I can see good enough to know that you left that room today at ten twenty-seven." She had made a note of it during Gladly's lecture. Sophia hadn't even bothered to get a hall pass. Anyone with the authority to stop her in the halls knew better than to interrupt what might be hero's business. "Then I saw you approach Charlotte's locker, phase out of reality, and open it right up."
Sophia's eyes widened at that last part. Blackwell's did too. "You used your powers to commit a crime in my school?" the principal demanded.
Sophia spun around to face her. "What? No! She's making that up!"
Taylor had read the handbook well enough to know what lines she could and could not cross. Using your powers at school was permitted as long as you were discrete or it was a justifiable emergency. Commiting a crime was frowned upon, but most petty crimes were beneath the PRT's notice. But using your powers to commit a crime? Well, that was the definition of an act of villainy.
"We could ask your teacher," Taylor suggested. "I'm sure she remembers what time you left."
Sophia made a half-turn toward Taylor, but Blackwell was the one she needed to convince. "Okay, yeah, I left class. To go to the bathroom! Is that a crime now?"
"And you did go to the bathroom," Taylor said, "carrying Charlotte's backpack, jacket, and all her books, which you dumped in the trash bin. They're still there, you know, in the bathroom between room two-seventeen and Charlotte's locker. What is it with you and lockers, anyway? There's Charlotte's locker, there's the time you filled my locker with blood and garbage to welcome me back to the new semester, and even before that there's the time you broke into my locker to steal my mother's flute! Did you use your powers then too?"
Before she had joined the Wards, Shadow Stalker had made a name for herself as a lone-wolf vigilante, but that image had been a lie. Even then, she'd had Emma by her side or in the background, helping her out, supporting her, being strong where she was weak. These cop-show interrogation tactics wouldn't have worked on Emma, but for the first time in years Sophia was alone.
Blackwell let out a breath. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to report this."
If Sophia got kicked out of the Wards, she wouldn't just lose a job, she'd lose her freedom and spend the next few years rotting in a cage with the rest of Brockton Bay's juvenile delinquents. Taylor might feel bad about that if Sophia hadn't deserved that fate several times over.
"Wait!" Sophia said. "Wait. Okay. Fine. Yeah, I broke into some nerd's locker. So what? We both know that I've done way worse stuff than that. But I did not use my powers, I swear."
Blackwell narrowed her eyes. "Your story has been rather fluid, Ms. Hess."
"No, no, she's telling the truth this time," Taylor said.
Blackwell looked up at her. "You said you saw her phase out of reality."
"I said that," she agreed. "And now you have your confession."
If Taylor had dragged this out, then the PRT would have gotten involved. Theft and vandalism wouldn't look good for Sophia, but framing her for using parahuman abilities with criminal intent wouldn't look good for Taylor either.
"So you lied to me."
Taylor held her gaze. I accused her of a greater crime to get her to confess to a lesser one. Just like you did. "Do you need anything else, Principal Blackwell?"
Blackwell looked from her to Sophia, who was staring daggers at Taylor and looked like she was coming up with new and exciting ways to murder her. It seemed to dawn on Blackwell that these two were supposedly heroes and were expected to work with each other.
"You may go." To herself, Blackwell muttered, "God help us all."
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But he didn't need to handle everything. He only needed to do his part, which was ...
"But I want you to know that I trust you, too. You were there for me when I wasn't there for you. And ... you were there for yourself when I wasn't there for you. I know things haven't been easy for you, but if you really want to be a hero, I won't hold you back. Because I know you will always do what you think is right."
But please, he thought, be careful.
WWW
It would have been easy to leave the principal's office with a quip, like, "I'll see you at work, Sophia. Oh, wait." But Taylor wasn't finished yet. She was barely getting started.
Every day Sophia got detention or was suspended, she wasn't allowed to go on patrol. Breaking into Charlotte's locker and stealing her stuff had to put her down for ... a week at least, right? Well, a week for anyone else. For her maybe just a couple of days. Still, that just meant that Taylor had to catch her in the act of another crime, and then another, watching her Monday through Friday from seven to three.
In six weeks when Sophia's parole hearing came up, what would happen if Sophia told them that she couldn't be a hero because she had been too busy engaging in psychological abuse? Would they kick her off the team? And if, by some miracle of personal willpower, Sophia managed to not be a violent thug for several weeks at a time, then mission accomplished.
At least, Sophia's part of it.
The next part of Taylor's mission was Emma Barnes.
Emma hardly ever went home right after school. Why would she? This was her seat of power. Taylor could sense her planted tick outside on the bleachers, close to Madison's tick and a few flies.
More importantly, Charlotte's ladybug was heading out the front door. Taylor hurried to catch up with her.
"Charlotte!" she called. "Going home?"
Charlotte turned and smiled a bit. "Yeah. It has been a long day."
She had her backpack back. She had been called down to the principal's office during sixth period, and had kept it with her ever since. It was stained with something unidentifiable and people had held their noses as they passed in a comedically juvenile fashion, but that was only because the trio had all the imagination of a block of cheese.
"Could I ask a favor before you go? It will only take a few minutes."
"Sure. What is it?"
Taylor took a deep breath. "Well, I was thinking about what you told me during lunch, and I need you to ... not get involved, but just stay close enough to see everything, just in case I need a witness to back me up later."
Her eyes widened. "What are ... what are you going to do?" She didn't sound scared. She sounded eager.
Something stupid and reckless. But she had been smart and cautious for a year and a half and it hadn't gotten her anywhere. Besides, what had Lisa told her right before she ran off to fight Bakuda?
Don't be cautious. Be you.
"Nothing ... illegal." Probably. She was still working out how rules applied to capes. Of course, she wasn't entirely sure yet what she was going to do to Emma, either.
Part of her wanted to quit while she was ahead, but it was just like with the gangs. She had to hit them all at once or they'd have time to react.
She saw Emma and Madison exactly where she knew they would be. Sensing them with her bugs, they were just points of data in the middle of the vast array of information that was sent through her mind, but now they felt more real. Taylor expected a certain visceral reaction to seeing them, an urge to turn the other way and run, but that didn't happen this time.
It was like that T. S. Elliot quote. We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. She had gone to this school and dealt with these bullies for a year and a half, but she never knew them until she left. Now, she could see them for what they truly were.
They were small.
But more than that, they were pieces of a whole. A team selected for their individual strengths and weaknesses. By analyzing the strengths of one, Taylor could recognize the weaknesses of the others. Sophia was a cape with connections she didn't know how to use, while Emma knew how to use connections she didn't have.
What about Madison? What did she bring to the team? She was cute and innocent—in appearance, not nature. She could make extended psychological abuse look like a childish game that had gotten a little out of hand, and she could kill someone in cold blood and make you want to give her a hug and tell her that everything was going to be alright, because you couldn't intimidate her without looking like a jerk.
Out of the three, Madison was the most artificial member. Taylor didn't know how Emma and Sophia got together, if Emma found out who Shadow Stalker was on her own or if Shadow Stalker unmasked to her—or if the whole thing happened on accident—but Madison was a choice. Emma's choice, Taylor suspected. Out of all the rats clawing their way to the top of the pile, Emma chose Madison to be the third member of their group.
Why? she thought. Are you really that afraid, Emma, that you need her to be your shield? Charlotte's words echoed in her head again. It was so clear to her now, she wondered how she never saw it before.
Someone must have said something, because Emma turned and looked at her, then proceeded to ignore her until she got closer. You're playing games still? Of course you are.
"Emma! We need to talk."
Emma made a show of just noticing her. "No we don't. You need to talk, and that's more your problem than mine."
"Fine. I'll talk and you can listen. I know what you're doing, and you're going to stop it."
"Or else what? You'll go crying to the principal again?" Her voice was light and playful, full of mocking laughter. How much of that was forced?
"No."
What she would do, Taylor left to Emma's imagination. Meanwhile, Madison reached into her backpack and pulled out a plastic bottle. Was she going to throw it at her? Taylor thought she might try something like that. Madison was a defensive measure, and she needed Taylor to go after her directly for her to be effective. It was child's play to simply distract her.
As soon as Madison unscrewed the lid, a bee landed on her hand, making her squeal and drop it. The bottle fell through the bleachers, its contents spilling out beyond her reach. Emma turned toward Madison for just a second, a look of panic crossing her face, and Taylor stepped onto the bleachers.
"Give me a hug."
Emma's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
She stood up to back away, but Taylor wrapped both her good arm and her stiff, unyielding cast around her. Emma trembled and smelled of mint scented shampoo and fear. "Do you know," Taylor whispered, "how many times I've dreamt of killing you? I'm done playing games, Emma. And so are you."
Emma stopped trembling. For a moment, she wasn't even breathing.
"Goodbye."