Taking a nap helped. I was getting pretty good at splitting my sleep and having a few hours in the afternoon or evening sometime, going out late at night, and then getting a few more hours before getting up for school. Was that what all the Touched did? For that matter, how did my dad pull off being so busy all the time? Yeah, he didn’t exactly have a nine to five job or anything. But he still had tons of meetings to attend and had to put in random appearances as his civilian self and as Silversmith. Was all of that explained just by him having another employee use one of those illusion machines or whatever it was to pose as him in public? That couldn’t always be it. He had to actually play both roles himself a good chunk of the time.
Yeah, even with that explanation, I was pretty sure my dad only slept a few hours a night. Especially when you added in him being present in my life to be a father and just the general family stuff. He was like a machine. Was that just from having a lot of practice or something?
Either way, I was back out in the city after checking on Izzy. This time, I left a note on my pillow for her saying I needed air and that I would be back, along with a reminder that she could text or call me if she needed something.
It was getting close to midnight by the time I made my way near the gas station where this whole thing with my new delinquent friends had started. That was when I told them to meet me, so I put myself at the edge of one of the buildings, painted myself black to blend in, and watched carefully for them to show up.
I actually had to wait longer than expected. It wasn’t until almost ten minutes after midnight before something drew my attention toward the edge of the building I had told them to meet me behind. Two teenagers, sans masks, came jogging around the corner. They were clearly out of breath and sweating.
The girl, obviously Murphy, had brown hair that was cut very short, with skin that was just dark enough to make me figure one of her parents was black and the other white. There was also something weird about her face, but I couldn’t tell what from the roof.
Wow, ‘something weird about her face.’ When I put it like that, it sounded bad. But seriously, she had like a tattoo or something. I couldn’t see that well even with the nearby street light.
Roald, meanwhile, was a pale boy with very light blond hair. He was trying to say something to his friend, gesturing to some kind of small bag or something he was holding.
Murphy, however, waved him off before turning in a quick circle and she raised her voice to call, “Hey, we’re here! Don’t be a fucking dick about punctuation, we made it!”
Yup, it was definitely them. Shaking my head, I used a bit of orange for protection before stepping off the edge of the roof and dropping those couple stories. I landed neatly right to the side of them, and both jumped in obvious surprise. “Punctuality. No masks tonight?”
“Fuck!” Murphy blurted while raising her hands defensively before she saw who it was. “Like you said, it’s not like it’ll be hard for you to figure out what ‘Murphy and Roald’ looked like. And did you really have to scare the shit out of us like that?” she demanded.
But her words weren’t what I was paying attention to. Instead, my gaze was on her face. Now I could see what I thought was a tattoo. It wasn’t. She had a cut on her face, just to the side of her left eye and stretching up into her hairline. And not just a little scrape either. This was big. It had been leaking a decent amount of blood down onto her cheek, blood that had partly dried into the mark I’d seen. The cut itself was partly covered by a couple small bandaids, but they clearly weren’t all that adequate. Especially since they didn’t actually cover the whole thing.
“Jesus Christ,” I found myself blurting. “What happened to you?”
It was Roald who answered. “Tyson.” He stepped over, and I finally saw that the thing he’d been trying to get the girl to pay attention to was a first aid kit. “Her brother.”
“Never mind that,” the girl herself snapped while trying to wave him off. “The point is, we’re here. So don’t go knocking on doors looking for us or anything. That’s kind of the last fucking thing we need right now.”
Opening and then shutting my mouth, I took a second to put my thoughts together before looking at the boy. “You got cleaning wipes in that kit?” When he nodded, I held my hand out and he passed a couple to me. “Hold still,” I told the girl before carefully reaching up to wash some of the blood from her face. She grimaced and muttered complaints, but didn’t move.
Once that was done, I looked around before pointing. “Come on, over there.” I was gesturing toward the park across the street where I knew there were a couple public restrooms.
The other two seemed uncertain and confused, but followed as I led them that way. Once we were in the restroom, I told her to stand in front of the mirror so she could see herself. Then I stripped my gloves off, set them aside, and scrubbed my hands really well with soap.
“What’re you, a doctor now?” Murphy demanded. But she didn’t really object. From the faces she was making, I was pretty sure that cut hurt.
“No, but I can help a bit before we see a real doctor,” I replied. “Hold still, again.” With that, I carefully wiped more of the blood away before very gingerly taking the almost useless bandaids away. They basically slid right off, so soaked through with blood were they.
From there, I had the girl lean over the sink so I could wash the wound. That prompted more hissing and cursing, but I promised it would be okay and tried my best to be gentle. Carefully, I cleaned it, then took a cloth from that little first aid kit, applied a little antiseptic, and told her to hold it against the cut.
It probably wasn’t exactly right. I’d had first aid training a while back, and I’d had plenty of cuts treated myself. But it was the best I could do right now.
That done, I took out my business phone and texted Pack, asking if she could give me the current address of the criminal doctor who had treated Eits. I added that it was for a friend, who probably needed stitches.
By the time I finished sending that message, both Murphy and Roald were staring at me, the former still holding the cloth against the cut.
“The hell’s your deal?” she blurted. “I thought you wanted us to come show up and do some work for you.”
I nodded. “And I’d prefer you not pass out or die from blood loss or an infection or something in the process. Now— hang on.” I had to interrupt myself, because the response from Pack came. She included a phone number and told me to call it. Apparently the number was to some kind of roaming ambulance that served Touched, including Fells, in the field. It would work for these purposes. There was an added bit about how she wanted to hear more about this injured friend later.
Calling that number, I told the gruff voice who answered what the problem was and told him where we were. There was a brief pause before the same gruff voice said they’d be in the parking lot in a few minutes and to watch for a red van.
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Once that was done, I focused on the other two once more. “Okay, seriously. What the hell happened? How did you get a cut like that? It was from your brother?”
From the glare that the girl shot toward her friend, I had the feeling that she hadn’t wanted him to say that much. Her voice was a mumble. “It’s not a big deal. He was just ticked off because I wouldn’t take a package for him. Told him I was busy.”
“Drugs.” That was Roald. “He knew we were going out, so he wanted her to carry some drugs to his friend a few streets over.”
Murphy snarled, “Yeah, if by friend you mean fellow meth-head. I told him before, I’m not touching any of that shit, not even to take it somewhere. Usually he lets it go.” With a small wince, she adjusted the cloth against her head. “Guess he was in a bad mood tonight.”
That made me stare at her for a few seconds. “Your big brother wanted you to take some meth to his friend and when you said no he cut you like that?” Fuck, my brother worked for a literal supervillain conspiracy and he treated me better than that.
Murphy waved that off. “Look, you don’t have to worry about any of that shit. That’s my problem. Who the hell did you call?”
Not wanting to push her too hard, I simply explained that it was a special ambulance with paramedics who would give her some stitches right here without needing to go to the hospital or anything. She wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about where the cut came from, even if I personally thought she should.
It didn’t exactly help to calm her down, though. Instead, she blurted, “Are you fucking kidding me? What part of us stealing food from a gas station makes you think we can afford some motherfucking stitches? Who do you think we are, the goddamn Evans family?!”
Uhhhh… better not answer that. Raising both hands, I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this. You guys are going to do some work for me, right? So I need you in good shape. Just chill out, okay? Relax. Let the paramedic look at that cut and see what you actually need.”
Murphy looked reluctant, but mumbled something I took as both agreement and gratitude. Then she squinted at me. “You can’t go after my brother. It’s not his fault. His stupid ass piece of shit friend got him hooked on the garbage and he can’t control himself. He gets crazy.”
For a moment, I didn’t say anything. Then I quietly asked, “Is the fact that he can’t control himself going to make it better the next time he decides to carve up your face? What if he decides to cut something more vital? What if he cuts somebody else, or worse, and all three of us have to live with knowing we could have stopped him before it got that far? Saying he can’t control himself isn’t a reason for why you shouldn’t turn him in. It’s a reason for why you absolutely should. Not because you don’t care about him. Because you do.”
“Kid’s got a point, Murph,” Roald noted hesitantly. “Ty’s not gonna get off that shit all on his own.”
Murphy scowled. “Yeah? So we turn them in and then what? They throw him in prison with a bunch of other druggies and hardened fuck-ups, he gets hooked even more, then he gets out and can’t get a job, so he does more bad shit, gets thrown back in prison again, and the merry-go-round of eternal bullshit continues forever until he’s dead. Did you or the kid ever think of that?”
I tried to smother my annoyance at being called kid by people about my same age with the satisfaction that my disguise was working. My mouth opened to say something, though what, I wasn’t exactly sure. Either way, I was saved from having to by headlights. As promised, a large red camper van was pulling in.
The medic guys were dressed more like janitors. I wasn’t sure what kind of medical expertise they actually had, but they did seem to know what they were doing. They looked at the cut on Murphy‘s face, cleaned and sanitized it a bit more professionally, and gave her a few stitches.
I’d heard from some people about how getting stitches used to involve needles and stuff. I supposed that’s where the term came from. Nowadays, it simply involved pressing what looked like a white cloth firmly against the wound for several seconds and then peeling it away to reveal that the wound had been closed with a special, temporary sealant. Judging from the faces and sounds coming from Murphy, it still managed to sting as much as it had the last time I had gone through it. Still, it was quick and easy.
“How much do we owe you?” I asked once it was done.
The man who had done most of the work and examination, a thin Latino, offered a shrug. “Whatever you think is fair. We survive off donations. Just keep in mind, stiffing us is a good way to make us not show up when you ask for it. And if we don’t make enough to keep going, this whole service disappears.”
I still didn’t want to draw too much attention, so I simply gave the man a couple hundred dollars while thanking him again. They both informed Murphy that the sealant would go away by itself in about a week, and that her cut should be better by then with barely a scar.
Then they took off for another call they received, leaving the three of us standing there at the edge of the lot next to the park.
“Just think a little bit about what I said, okay?” I asked while looking at the girl once the medics were gone. “I won’t push again right now, but seriously. Think about it.”
With a bit of obvious reluctance, she promised to do so before changing the subject by asking, “So what’s the job we’re supposed to do for you, Mr. Superhero?”
Over the next few minutes, I told them about Wren. I explained that she was a Tech-Touched who needed more hands in her shop to help with everything, from putting basic equipment together, to carrying boxes around, to cleaning up, to just helping to run the shop in general.
“That sounds like a job, not like… charity or whatever,” Roald pointed out.
I nodded. “That’s because it is basically a job. And it’s one you’ll keep if you don’t screw around. You help get the shop off the ground and you’ll be paid. Part of your payment for working is going to go to helping other people who need it, until you work off a full thousand dollars. That’s the two hundred I gave you before, plus five hundred for the door that I gave to the shop owner, rounded up.”
Murphy was staring at me intently. “Dude, you want us to work off a thousand bucks?”
I nodded. “Like I said, it won’t all be taken at once. You’ll still be paid, it’ll just be part of your wages. You work in the shop, do everything you’re told, and you’ll be paid. Part of that payment will be taken and sent to other people who need it, to charity. Then once you’re done, you can either quit, or you can stick around and keep working. If you stick around and keep working, you’ll start being paid the full amount. As long as you help out and make yourselves useful, you can keep doing the job and keep being paid.”
Roald was shaking his head in confusion. “The only thing you know about us is that we tried to rob a gas station for snack food. Why would you try to hire us to work for some super techy place?”
For a moment, I didn’t answer. I just considered him in silence before slowly replying, “Because I think there are a lot of people who do bad things just because they don’t have any other choice. Not all of them, obviously. There’s a lot of awful people who do it for fun, just because they can. But there’s others who start small, like you guys with the gas station, and then get worse. They build up. I can’t give everyone on the edge like that the chance they need. But I can give it to you. I can give it to both of you.”
Looking back and forth between the two of them, I added a bit pointedly, “Maybe you’ll just go on and start doing worse crimes anyway. Maybe this won’t make any difference at all. But, if you do go on to be real thieves, if a couple years pass and you’re just as bad as all those other gang people out there, you won’t be able to say that it’s because no one ever gave you a chance. I’m giving you a chance right here, right now. I don’t care where your families come from, I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what kind of education you have, or what your neighborhoods are like. I don’t care what you’ve had to do up to this point. The jobs are yours. Once you work off the charity part, the rest is up to you.”
After that, I told them a bit more about the jobs. Specifically, that they should meet me Tuesday afternoon to go meet their new boss. I left out how young she was, figuring I’d let that be a surprise. I also told them not to meet here, but instead gave them an address a few blocks away from the shop itself.
After that, I looked at Murphy. “You shouldn’t go home tonight. Not with your brother like that.”
She shrugged. “I’ll stay with Roald til things cool down. Not like it’s the first time.”
Not the first time… A sigh escaped me. “Think about what I said, okay? Your brother’s not going to get better just because you don’t want to get him in trouble.”
She squinted at me, but gave a short, silent nod. So, I sent them on their way, after exchanging my Touched phone number for both of theirs. I told them to let me know if anything else happened or changed.
Then they left together. Right, so that was dealt with. And now, well, honestly, I was about to go right back to bed. I had a feeling I was going to need all the rest I could get before tomorrow came around. Because then it would be Saturday. Time for Paige’s birthday. The one I had been invited to for some reason.
Boy, I just couldn’t wait.