My–our parents weren’t home the next morning (Sunday) when Izzy and I got up. Which was just fine with us, given we had plenty to do that day as it was. Especially considering what the others had put into place overnight. Between that and the whole thing with Inessa and her brother’s vault, it really was no wonder that the Ministry was busy. Part of me wondered if our parents had gotten any sleep at all the night before, but I pushed that feeling of guilt away as firmly as I could. After everything that had happened and the sort of things they were responsible for, they could deal with a busy night. Hell, for all I knew, Dad had a super-energy pill or something to help with it. That would explain how he managed to be a superhero, successful businessman, and help run a criminal conspiracy at the same time. Actually, come to think of it, that was probably still too much even if he never slept at all.
Izzy and I watched the news on our phones in the dining room while we were eating our breakfast. Of course, they were talking about the biggest story of the day, or possibly of the whole year. The news that someone had ended up trapped on Breakwater before two Star-Touched had secretly been sent in to save her wasn’t exactly going to fly under the radar.
Oh sure, there were plenty who doubted the story. They had news consultants and experts on every channel it seemed like, all of them arguing about whether something like this was possible or not. There was discussion about security measures, about the sort of paperwork that would have to have been filed with the local governments, about this being an elaborate prank, and about it being completely real. The arguments ran across the political spectrum. There were plenty who were using it as an excuse to show why Breakwater was a bad idea to begin with, while others crowed about this being the first problem of its kind and how that proved how incredibly secure and safe the place was. After all, if one person getting accidentally stuck there, a one in a billion chance, ended up being such a pain in the ass to retrieve, then of course it meant it would be impossible for anyone who was supposed to be there to actually escape.
Of course people had reached out to Breakwater itself, but they weren’t giving any statements yet. There was talk about several governments investigating, including a congressional committee here in the States. Some of that was just politicians trying to jump on something that would make a name for themselves, but still. All of this meant that Breakwater couldn’t just sweep it under the rug. Which was the entire point. We’d intentionally pointed as big of a spotlight as we could at the place to keep everyone’s eyes on it long enough to pull this off.
As planned, the news stories the others had dropped off weren’t about pointing fingers and being accusatory, even if some of the analysts took it that way. For the most part, we had made it look as so we were praising Breakwater for their quick action and incredible competence. This whole thing was about making it look as though Flea and Trivial had already rescued Irelyn, and now they were just in debrief with the Breakwater people. That way, they couldn’t just make the pair disappear and shrug their shoulders.
To that end, Paige and Sierra hadn’t simply delivered some photoshopped pictures of the broken boat. No, they had gone far above and beyond that. Some of the papers they had dropped off at the various news organizations looked like photocopies of actual orders and memos from Breakwater. Stuff about gathering information about the intruder on the island, about where she had come from, her movements, and how to recruit a couple Star-Touched from her own home city to help handle the situation without causing a panic. We didn’t make them look perfect, of course. That wouldn’t have been realistic, and we still wanted them to squirm at least a little bit. There were notes in there about how bad this would look if it got out, and that they needed to handle it quickly and quietly. But for the most part, they came off looking competent, at the very least. Especially considering we had made it look as though their plan had worked. There were notes in the end about how the two Star-Touched had successfully retrieved the lost woman without suffering any fatalities.
Of course this whole thing would blow up in everyone’s face if there had already been a major, obvious problem on the island that wasn’t covered in the notes. But we were trying not to focus on that possibility. All that mattered was getting them off that island, and now we had given Breakwater the best excuse they could possibly have to just pick them up and let them go. Of course they would have to convince the pair to go along with the cover story that we had given them, but that was also something we couldn’t affect right now. We just had to hope Flea and Trivial would go with it.
This was undoubtedly the hardest part of this whole thing. We’d pulled the trigger on everything we could do, and now we just had to sit here and wait. We couldn’t affect anything else, not when it came to this. We were stuck watching to see how Breakwater would handle it.
And if this was hard for me, I couldn’t even imagine what it was like for Paige and Sierra. They had lit the dynamite and tossed it out into the world. Now they had to sit around waiting to see what happened.
Or, apparently not. At least as far as the sitting around bit went. I learned the truth about that after Izzy went off for a meeting with the Minority people and I made my way to the shop. According to Wren, who was eating fried chicken at ten o’clock in the morning, the other two were out again already. Something about sneaking into a couple of these news and government places to eavesdrop on what was actually being said in the background. They wanted to get a better idea of how things were going beyond what was actually being reported on the news.
Yeah, I should’ve known better than to assume that Paige would be patiently sitting around the shop. I just hoped that whatever they were doing to sneak into these places wouldn’t end up with my parents being called to come pick up their daughter. Sure, Sierra had changed her hair color and stuff like that, but still. The whole idea made me even more anxious.
Gnawing on a chicken leg while perching cross-legged on one of the glass counters near the register, Wren beamed my way. “It’s okay, we did the hard part already. Now it’s up to them. We just have to wait and see what happens, you know?” With that, she took a big gulp of lemonade and made a sound of contentment. She had done her part, at least as far as that went. Now there was nothing else she could do to affect the situation, so she wasn’t worrying about it. Boy, wouldn’t that have been nice?
My head shook as I gave a soft sigh. “Yeah, I’m not exactly sure that’s what I would call the easy part. It’s hard to just sit around and hope things work out. Especially when it comes to something like this. I keep feeling like I should be out there doing something to help, you know?”
“Like what?” That was Fred, who settled back in an easy chair next to the register with his own plate of chicken. They’d offered me some when I came in, but I was still full from breakfast, so I’d declined. “Do you have some super-special color paint that can take you all the way to that prison island that you’ve just been holding back this whole time for the heck of it?” When I shook my head, he gestured. “Well, there you go. You can’t do anything about it right now. Heck, you’ve even got Paige and Sierra out there doing the sneaky-sneak parts to find out what the people who do have some authority are doing. Just wait to find out what they come back with. Maybe there’ll be something you can actually contribute to.” He gave a self-depreciating snort then, eyes rolling. “Maybe that will even be something I can do besides sit around and be the denmoth–uncle, denuncle. Is that a thing? Eh, it is now. Even if it does sound like a freaking Pokemon.”
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He had a point, of course. Er, about the me not being able to affect the situation thing. I couldn’t do anything important right then, so I simply moved to a corner and started working on my homework for the next day. I could’ve done that at home, but I felt the need to be here at the shop, just in case.
The sound of the bell ringing by the door as someone came in startled me, and my gaze snapped up, body reflexively tensing and ready for trouble. But, lo and behold, it was just a customer. An actual real life customer for the pawn/repair shop. In this case, he was there for the repair side, having brought in an old broken betamax player. Apparently it had belonged to his grandmother and he wanted to be able to watch some of her old videos. I watched from the corner as Fred made a show of turning the thing over to examine it from every angle before telling the man he could come back for it in an hour. The guy seemed surprised that it would be that fast, and Fred asked if he’d prefer it take a week. The man quickly apologized, thanked him and promised to be back in the hour before making his way out. He barely even glanced my way through the whole thing. Still, part of me wondered if I should go upstairs if customers were going to start visiting.
Pushing myself up, I stepped over that way and asked, “You think Wren can fix that thing in an hour? She hasn’t even looked at it.”
He snorted at me, setting the thing down on the counter gently before reaching out to pick up a screwdriver and a small flashlight. “The kid isn’t coming anywhere near this little beauty. She’d probably put a rocket pack on it and send the thing to the moon or something.”
Wren, for her part, bobbed her head in quick agreement. “I do like rockets, they’re fun!”
“I’ve fixed plenty of these in my time,” Fred informed me while starting to work on the betamax player. “It’s no big deal. I may not be a superpowered genius, but I can work on this.”
More customers did come in over that hour, and I ended up not going upstairs after all. Instead, I took down their information, helped them find things they were looking for, and generally lost myself in working as a random, anonymous employee. It was nice, especially considering I doubted any of the people who had come in would remember my face two seconds after leaving. I was just a nobody, someone who helped sell them whatever they needed (or failed to do so). Between that and getting my actual homework done, it helped take my mind off worrying about the Breakwater situation, the Inessa one, the one where someone was possibly targeting the Minority–yeah, all of it. I was able to clear my head pretty well. Not that it would last, but still.
Eventually, Murphy and Roald came in, and they started helping out too. Not just with customers, but with some of the minor repairs. Fred and Wren supervised that, simply giving instructions about what to do, while we did the grunt work.
After several hours of that, things finally slowed down. The three of us who were actually high school students did our homework together, even though we didn’t have the same classes. It still helped to bounce things off each other. Besides, the other two were weirdly interested in what sort of classes and lessons I had in what they called my spoiled rich shit school.
It turned out most of the stuff they were currently working on was at least a grade level or two behind what I had been assigned when I was in their grade. Not because I was smarter, to say the least. It was because my teachers focused on more advanced stuff, because they had the support and supplies needed to teach it properly. Not to mention the way the parents, including my own, would push for that. The more I heard about Murphy and Roald’s school, the more clear it was that I really needed to push my parents to contribute some real funds to schools like that. They deserved more than they were getting, and it wasn’t like doing so would be hard. I was relatively certain we could double their annual budget with what was in our couch cushions.
I also spent part of that time texting back-and-forth with Ryder about that whole situation. And no, I was still not even close to being accustomed to the idea that fucking Arleigh and her family were actually Sherwood. Out of all the things I’ve had to deal with and accept, that one was coming close to breaking my brain. Not the idea that she was a villain, naturally. No, the part I couldn’t accept was her being a nature-loving villain. Or at least pretending to be one. I couldn’t even believe that she was able to fake something like that so well. She was incredibly good at playing both roles, to the point that part of me wondered which was the real her. Because Clime was just… a flower girl hippy type. A violent flower girl hippy, but still.
In any case, the two of us caught each other up as best as we could, while also joking around a fair bit. That, probably more than anything else, helped calm me down. Talking to Ryder, even simply by texting over the phone, was just… nice. Even though we were talking about very serious and dangerous things, it was easy to talk to him. Now that he knew who I was, and vice versa, it had removed a wall between us. We were able to just chat about everything, and about nothing. Was it weird that I could spend ten minutes talking about various jelly bean flavors and what the absolute worst, yet still edible type would be? And did the fact that that was mixed in with also talking about things like Jennica make that better or worse?
We also had the news on throughout the day, just in case. Not that there was anything new to hear about. The bomb was still gradually exploding. Or maybe this was more like the aftershocks. Either way, they weren’t saying anything that I hadn’t heard already. They were just going over the facts again in the end, about how long ago Flea and Trivial had last been active, who the mystery woman who had ended up on the island in the first place could be, and everything else. There were people who reported having seen the two Star-Touched long after I knew they wouldn’t have been around. Part of me wondered if that was a cover-up from the Ministry or from the law enforcement themselves to help hide their identities. Honestly, did the difference really matter at that point?
Finally, Paige and Sierra showed up. They had a little more news than what was being reported. Apparently the Star-Touched organizations were taking it incredibly seriously and had actually confirmed via back channels with Breakwater that there were indeed a couple on the island who matched Flea and Trivial’s descriptions. They also assured them that all efforts were being taken to ensure a safe exit for everyone involved. Of course, all of that led to discussions and arguments about whose fault this whole thing was and who bore ultimate responsibility. Not just for the initial situation, but also for the leaking of the information. There was a lot of finger-pointing going on, but thankfully, none of it seemed to be coming anywhere near us. Not that that was all that surprising, considering how much care we had taken to cover our tracks, but still. Things could easily have gone wrong with that whole thing. Part of me had half-expected the people in charge to figure out it was us within an hour or two.
Still, it seemed like it was going to take more time for the people in charge to work all that out. But, things were moving in the right direction. The fact that Breakwater admitted those two were there in the first place and weren’t trying to lie about it was a pretty good sign. Hopefully this whole thing would be resolved without us needing to lift another finger.
On the other hand, now that she couldn’t do anything else about that situation, Paige was fully focused on what I had been doing at the park the day before. Specifically, all the paint combinations. She had me walk her through exactly how it happened and what I did. And she had a few choice words to say about my way of experimenting, making it clear that we were going to do some very in-depth testing in safer conditions. And yes, I was pretty sure she drooled a little when saying words like testing and experiments. No way was I going to get out of that now.
But we didn’t have time to get into it too much before the phone rang. The phone, the one we used for talking to Pittman.
Sure enough, it was him. The system told us he was coming from the same location we’d tracked before. It had to be him. Staring at the phone as it rang, I picked it up and looked at the others. “Well, I’m guessing he’s heard the news and knows we don’t have to work with him after all.
“So, let’s see just how pissed off he is, shall we?”