Cute Mutants Deluxe, page 18
“I love you,” I offer, because it’s the best thing I have.
“Ditto,” he says, his lips soft on my skin.
I can’t solve Bianca. I wish I could. We spend hours sitting crosslegged, knee to knee. Mostly we just talk. Sometimes we play music for each other. We have entirely different tastes and make fun of each other for it, but sometimes we find a song we both like. Funnily enough, it’s usually Pear’s old music like New Order or Blondie. Bianca tells me I’m good at listening, but it’s mostly that I shut up. She has a lot of questions too.
“Why don’t you ever go to Queer Club?” She prods my knee with one finger.
“You have to talk in a circle. Lou told me.” There’s a long pause. “Plus I feel weird trying to claim queer, like--”
“Dylan,” Bianca says. “You’re in a relationship with a—”
“Boy,” I say firmly.
“Yes, I know, I know, Jesus Christ. But like, you’re pan, right?”
“Maybe. I don’t really worry about labels. Like I don’t feel like I’m really a girl, but I don’t know what I am instead. My body doesn’t feel right, and if I could be an alien or a ray of light, I probably would. But I don’t know. I feel like I’m just me.”
Bianca rolls her eyes. “Speaking as a defiant queer, we need all the help we can get. Bring all the weirdos into our big tent. Have a party.”
“I’m shit at parties,” I say with a grin.
“Maybe you just haven’t been to the right ones.”
I shrug, and she gives me a wicked grin. “By the way, you’re definitely pan. I’ve seen the way you look at Alyse and Dani.”
“You can’t define me! Besides, I don’t look at them.” I know I’m blushing.
She pats my leg. “It’s ok. You can admit it to me. I’m your emotional support himbo.”
“Himbo,” I snort, and dissolve into helpless giggles as she strikes muscle poses, and holy shit, with all the working out we’re doing she is getting hella buff.
“It’s Dani, though,” she says. “I watched your face when I said the names.”
“It was a twitch.” I fight to stay deadpan.
“You’re allowed to be attracted to other people. You can even be poly if you want.”
I fix her with a stern glare. “You’ve met Lou, right?”
She bursts out laughing. “Lou likes sharing as much as Shell. God, you should hear what she says about you lot. She calls you my work wife cult.”
I laugh, but there’s an edge to it. “Does she make you happy?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “Does Lou?”
We’re quiet for a minute after that, and then we change the subject.
I never ask her to use her power. I don’t want those things to feed on her, and I don’t want them to feed on me either. We just talk.
“I’ve been practising,” she tells me one day when we’re out in the garden at Alyse’s house. The lawn is smooth and green. They have people that come in and make it this perfect. “On the nights where Shell is sulking about whatever and it’s just me alone with my little demons.”
“Bianca.” I sigh. “I never asked you to.”
“I know. But I want to be part of the team.” She pushes her knee against mine. “The fact you never asked me to makes me want to do it more.”
“Because you’re stubborn?” I ask.
“You treat me like I’m not a piece of shit.”
“I feel like that’s a pretty low bar to clear,” I say, and that makes her laugh.
“You’d be surprised. Anyway, watch.” She pulls down the top of her bra. Her fingers scrabble at her chest. There’s that disturbing visual of watching her fingers sink under her skin. The darkness inside ripples, and three creatures come stalking out on shadow legs. Their little heads tilt left and right. Their mouths yawn open.
“No, no,” Bianca says. “Behave. Run over there and see what’s happening.” She points to the far end of the garden, where the swimming pool fence is. The creatures go skittering off, fast and jerky. When they reach their destination, they turn back quizzically.
“Come on then,” she whispers. The creatures blur back towards her and she lets the opening in her chest ripple closed.
I stare at her. “That’s amazing!”
“I learned my pain is real but it doesn’t own me. I don’t have to always be that person.” Her eyes meet mine. They seem calm. “You showed me that.”
And then there’s Chatterbox. I train myself relentlessly. I’m not getting enough sleep between everything that’s going on, but when I do it’s deep and dreamless and Pillow keeps me safe. I’m trying to understand objects.
I walk down our street at midnight, a gaggle of recycling bins following, tipped up on their wheels and their lids dangling. I feel the cool air on my skin, my bare feet on the damp grass, and listen as they murmur among themselves about what they hold inside, and about me too. They find me fascinating. To them I appear as a blur of light, a gossamer girl trailing glowing streamers from her hands.
I detour through the mall carpark on the way home from school. I run between the rows of cars.
“Unlock,” I say, and I hear the rapid ka-chunk of cars opening to me.
“Lock,” I command and they return to their previous state.
I blip their alarms and silence them. I turn their stereos on, and make them rumble so the bass bleeds static. I flash their lights and screech their wipers over dry windscreens.
Here is the secret, and it’s an ugly one. Cars are made to serve. It makes me uncomfortable how eager they are to do the bidding of humans. Tools in general are easier to get a response from. Things made to be used. All I need is a small amount of anger and when I speak, they hear me.
I cultivate my rage. There are a lot of things to be angry about.
The other thing I learn is about volume. I don’t need it. They can hear a whisper across a crowded room. I feel like if I could learn the secret of it, they could hear me thinking. They’re so receptive. They’re made to be servants, but they see me almost like a prophet. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but powerful too.
I feel like I’m changing too fast, like my brain can’t fit everything I’m learning. Sometimes I lie there at night after I’ve been out in the dark speaking with objects, and I feel like my skin is superheated and my brain can’t fit all my thoughts in. It’s Pillow that pulls me together. She’s very soothing and patient.
Pillow also seems to get smarter the more we talk, like there’s something symbiotic happening. It gives me an idea and I start bringing the baseball bat to bed with me too. He’s tentative at first, but soon joins in our conversations. I feel guilty, like I’m using him, but I want him to bond with me. He already saved me once.
I paint him up purple and green to match my costume. I write Smash the Patriarchy on him because sorry, Harley, but ‘good night’ isn’t badass enough for us. I tell Pillow and Batty the things we want to do. I spill my dreams and the mundane shit we’ve done in training. They hear about Tremor and what he did. I feel a little cruel that I’m expanding their minds only to fill them with the bad things in the world.
One day I find myself lined up in the cafeteria next to Dani. She’s been orbiting us on the periphery because Emma drifts between her and the mutants. It’s clear she still wants nothing to do with the reckless lot of us.
“I hear you’re all trained up,” she says.
“I remember someone telling us we should do things properly.” I keep my tone cool, try to stay as fucking chill as her.
“I didn’t mean this.” She gestures to the charm bracelet on my wrist, and I close my hand around it. “What some of you can do—It’s serious, Dylan, and you treat it like you’re still playing games with your little superhero club.”
My eyes meet hers. “Oh, I’m entirely serious. We all are.” My heart is thumping like I’ve been training. I don’t want to interrogate this feeling because I’m honestly scared of what it means and I’m not ready to follow that thread. “Your power is amazing and our team could be even stronger with you. We could be—”
“She made her decision.” Lou comes up behind me, his hand grazing my waist.
Dani’s gaze shifts to a point over my shoulder and her lip curls. “Oh yes, I’m well aware that you don’t want me on your team.”
I turn against Lou’s hand, glance at the line of his jaw. “What are you talking about?”
“Lou was very clear there was no need for me. Not that I wanted in.”
I frown at Dani, transfer it to Lou.
“Lou, what the fuck?”
“She made her decision.” His eyes are fixed on Dani, like they’re having an argument of their own that I’m left out of.
“It’s not like a permanent decision for the rest of time,” I protest, trying to insinuate myself between them. “Dani, you can always join.”
“There’s no way,” she says. “You’re all as reckless as each other, no matter how much you pretend. And by the way, Lou, that thing we talked about? There’s no way in hell you could stop me.”
She turns and walks out of the cafeteria, and I watch her the whole way.
“What thing is she talking about?” I ask, once I can’t see her anymore.
“Nothing,” Lou says, and leans away from me.
I try to get it out of him, but he won’t budge. There’s no point talking to Dani about it. I wish there was some way I could change her mind, but she doesn’t want to be part of the team. I’m grateful that everyone else wants to do this with me, but there’s a part of me that keeps replaying her walking away.
Later that day, there’s a bigger quake. It’s at Eastgate mall on the other side of town. It’s right at the end of the day, so everything was mostly empty, but a couple of people got injured when a display in the supermarket collapsed on them.
The pictures in the news don’t look good. The front of the mall has crumpled in and the neon sign atop has come crashing down into a splintered wreck. There’s an ambulance there, and official figures standing around.
“We should be doing something,” Alyse says.
“Don’t worry.” I’m staring at the TV. “We’ll do something when we’re ready.” I’m scanning the crowd shots, wondering if Tremor’s there somewhere, watching the chaos.
“Aren’t we ready now?” It’s Bianca, sitting on the edge of the couch, drumming her fingers rapidly against the leather. She gets to her feet and paces the room. “You’re not freaking out because of what happened last time are you? Because we’re a lot better now.”
“I know.” I look around the room at everyone. “We’re so much better. We’re nearly ready. But we need to do this right. This has to be the endgame. We’re going to stop Jack and deliver him to the cops in a way they can’t ignore.”
Everyone nods. They trust me, which is still a disorienting feeling. I think I’m the same person I always was, but maybe I’m not, and I’m too close to recognise it.
I don’t know why I make the decision when I do. It’s three days after the quake at the mall. I wake up one day semi-well-rested and my brain is like well fuck it, let’s go.
“Yes, dear, sounds utterly splendid,” Pillow murmurs and I wonder if she read my thoughts or if I accidentally said it out loud.
There’s a plan in my head that seems solid. I poke at it with my drowsy brain. I know life is unpredictable, but I’ve got contingencies in there and everything. It’s slightly more advanced than knocking on his door and asking him politely to stop. I chat with Pillow and Batty about it and then text the gist to the group.
Wraith: omg look guys chatty’s all grown up
Wraith: jk that sounds amazeballs
Goddess: Chatterbox this is amazing!
Goddess: I’ll be your eye in the sky!
Goddess: 🥰🥰🥰
Glowstick: sounds good babe
Moodring: ok sure i know im the one with the biggest mouth
Moodring: but wow this is scary good
Moodring: and scary scary too
Moodring: we can do this guys!!!
I sit on the bed with my phone on my lap. I try not to think about the one million things that can go wrong, and instead think about the fact I’ve got a team and a plan. I lie back down, look up at the ceiling, and don’t even try to hold back my smile.
“Yes, you’re very clever,” Pillow sighs contentedly.
We meet at the mall and eat burgers and tacos and sprawl over two tables. Alyse has her giant iPad. We bring up maps and notes and poke around with greasy fingers. We all talk over each other, but everyone defers to me. It’s dizzying. We refine the plan. We memorise the plan. We spill taco fillings all over the plan.
When we leave the mall, everyone knows what they need to do.
Pear is at Sarah’s, so we get ready at my house. It’s not at all the same mood as last time. I don’t have my period. My skin’s semi-sort-of-ok. I don’t feel any urge to throw up. If I could transform like Alyse, I’d be a warrior made of steel and bone. Everyone else seems infected with the same mood.
We play the theme song to the anime Yuri on Ice on repeat. When that chorus hits, we feel fucking invincible. We turn it up and dance around the living room. It’s the goofiest thing ever, but I honestly feel like a superhero.
The song ends and Emma sits down at her laptop, immediately bringing up the drone feed which shows the car still parked outside his house. We’ve all got her app on our phones and we all put headphones in so Emma can speak to us.
“Let’s fucking do this,” I say.
The main group heads off to the bus stop, while I get on my bike and head through the streets. I’m wearing baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, with my costume on underneath. Luckily the autumn weather is cooler. I cycle slowly through the streets of suburbia. It’s quiet, aside from a few people walking dogs. They pay no particular attention to me, aside from the low-level wariness people have around teenagers on the loose. They have no idea.
By the time I reach Tremor’s house it’s full dark. My tyres hiss on the smooth asphalt. I detour into the park a few doors down from his house, where I take off my hoodie and pants and shove them to the bottom of my backpack. I pull my mask down over my head. Visibility’s fine. I’m going to need it.
Chatterbox, garish Spider Hero costume and all, reporting for superhero duty.
I cruise my bike down and stop opposite his house, legs dangling down to the ground. The curtains are open and the lights are on. Patterns from the TV are cast on the wall.
“I’m in position,” I say to Emma.
“I can see you.” Her voice is soft in my ear. Reassuring. “You’re good to go.”
I climb off my bike and let it fall to the ground. I pull Batty off the frame and heft him in my hand. Tremor’s car is pulled up onto the side of the road so the tyres are on the verge. I fumble in my backpack for one of Emma’s gadgets—a little GPS tracker in a key hider. I crouch down and attach it to the car just above the front wheel.
“Done,” I tell Emma. “Does it show up?”
“Perfect. Tremor’s now wired in.”
I take a deep breath. “Hey, buddy,” I say to the car. “I’m really sorry about what’s going to happen.”
“What is going to happen?” His voice is a low rumble. It’s wary but excited too.
“It’ll hurt a little bit, but not too bad. Mostly just a loud noise.”
“Is it for an adventure?” God, save me from fast cars.
“Something like that,” I say. “Scream for me, kitten.” It’s embarrassing, but cars enjoy being talked to like characters in the noir movies we studied at school. I stand in the harsh LED glow of the streetlight. It makes me lurid. I fancy I look like an aberration, something that doesn’t belong. A dangerous girl, let off the leash.
The car screams for me. His voice is a harsh electronic siren.
The door to Tremor’s house bangs open. He stands on the front steps, peering across the road at me.
“Oh fuck,” Batty says, as I swing him back and smash him as hard as I can into the tail light of the car. “Ouch, that hurt.”
“Hush, you big baby,” I tell him.
The alarm splinters into static and resumes.
Tremor thumps down the stairs, arms out and swaggering. “Hey, you’re that little spider! Back again for more, you whore? You want to tattle to the pigs? I’ll fucking kill you!”
Tremor extends his hand and points it at me, but this time I’m ready. I run to my bike and straddle it, then kick off hard. I pedal as fast as I can, cranking through the gears. A grinding sound comes from behind me. I turn and watch a crack zig-zag towards me, the earth tearing open. I swerve wildly to avoid the tail end.
“Fucking bitch!” Tremor runs across the road to his car and the alarm blips off. His door slams. The ignition catches, and the engine whines past what it can bear. Underneath, I hear the car whimper.
I focus on moving as fast as I can.
Tremor comes after me with a screech of tyres. So far, the plan is working. I’ve taped a wing mirror to the handlebars of my bike. I tilt it with one green-and-purple hand, and see headlights behind me.
Fucking hell, he’s close.
“Tracker is working perfectly,” Goddess says in my ear.
“Yeah, we have other problems,” I pant, then glance in the mirror again. “Mysterious women don’t like cars that move too fast,” I murmur.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” the car splutters. The engine hiccups and dies.
Tremor shouts, and after a brief pause the car roars to life again. It’s enough time for me to put much needed distance between us.
I cut through the supermarket car park on the corner. He follows me in and I shoot down the alley where the deliveries are made, coming out onto a busier street. I pause, waiting. He needs to follow.
