Double Down (Lois Lane) Page 3

  “I really have to go.” I got up, stowing my notes and grabbing my bag.

  James had his hand on Melody’s arm again. “I’m happy to see you home,” he said, like some olden times gentleman caller.

  “No need,” Maddy said. “Since we live at the same place, I can handle it. She’ll just have to get over being seen with me.”

  But Maddy trailed me on my way to the door as James and Melody continued to chat. She stopped me before I could leave. “She’s not a story. She’s my sister.”

  I didn’t try to hide my surprise. “She may be both.”

  “I know she can be hard to take. But she’s my sister first.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I get it.”

  And I hoped it was true. I hoped that I did get it. Because if I didn’t, I could fail at friendship—and lose Maddy.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lucky for me, Mom and Dad were scheduled to attend some sort of work function, and they had told us that morning they’d leave money for pizza. When I got home, a red and white box was already sitting on the kitchen table. My sister, Lucy, must have ordered it after school.

  I snagged a slice, folded it in half, and wolfed it down on the way upstairs to my room. Lukewarm pizza wasn’t my favorite variety—piping hot or next-day cold both ranked higher—but it wasn’t bad. I heard Lucy in her room talking, which probably meant she was playing Unicorn University with her renegade posse of unicorn friends. And I was en route to visit Worlds War Three, with its real-time conflict between the worlds of aliens, fantasy creatures, and humans. The Lane sisters, spending their Friday nights in real-sim holoset games.

  I swallowed a drink of water and tried to calm my breathing as I hooked the device’s shell over my ear and sat down on the bed. My heart was beating faster. Maybe because I’d been running around and was late, or maybe because I was on the trail of a new story. But something told me that I’d have felt the same combination of anxiety and anticipation even if I was right on time.

  We were about to see each other. By the only means we had available, as long as SmallvilleGuy insisted I couldn’t know his real identity.

  I powered up the holoset. My bedroom fell away, the spray of lights in front of my face becoming an altogether different landscape. It felt as real as my room had, grass tickling my always-bare-in-the-game feet.

  Two low red moons presided over a mostly quiet night. There were the sounds of distant gunfire, normal, and a few closer screeches from night creatures, also normal.

  A familiar stone tower loomed above me on the sloping hill I hurried up.

  The turret was part of Devin’s castle, which he was slowly and surely rebuilding. The Warheads had destroyed it—before we’d turned them from a psycho squad back into normal gamers. He’d basically given this section to SmallvilleGuy and me a week ago, jokingly calling it the Lois Annex. Since I hadn’t killed him for designing my game character as a pointy-eared and curvy-bodied elf named Princess Lo, it seemed a fair trade. Having a quiet, somewhat private place to meet meant SmallvilleGuy and I weren’t constantly interrupted by random attacks from other players who were here to war, not have maybe-date night.

  SmallvilleGuy stepped out of the tower’s shadowy entrance, his light green skin casting a soft glow in the moonlight. He was a standard-issue alien here, in contrast to my elf princess.

  “Finally,” he called out, walking to meet me. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  He’d designed his character to be tall, but not over-the-top muscle-bound like some players’ avatars, and he wore a pair of glasses with black frames. I had no idea if any of this corresponded to his appearance in real life, though. I’d never seen him.

  We’d met on a message board called Strange Skies two years earlier. The Strange Skies website was a haven for people who had seen or experienced unexplainable things, or for people who claimed they had, in some of the less-than-believable cases. I had first posted there after almost being pummeled by falling rocks one dark night outside Wichita, Kansas. A person flying through the air had saved me from disaster—along with my dad, who’d forbidden me to ever talk about it. SmallvilleGuy and I had quickly progressed to DMs, and then to chatting; we even had a special secure app to talk privately. He knew my name, not just my handle. But for whatever reason, SmallvilleGuy wouldn’t tell me who he really was; he said it wasn’t safe for me to know.

  I used to ask him at the end of every one of our nightly chats, but I’d stopped weeks ago, after he revealed that he’d told his parents about me and they’d forbidden him to divulge his identity. He promised that he would tell me, as soon as he was able.

  I hadn’t even considered the possibility that it might be tonight.

  “Sorry,” I said when I reached him. “I got here as fast as I could. Some news showed up. What was, um, that important thing you had to tell me?”

  “I thought you were out on a puff piece.” I must have frowned at that, because he added, “That’s what you called it. Not me. What news showed up?”

  And though I wanted more than anything to know what he’d wanted to say to me, I was struck with the shyness that attacked without warning around him more and more often of late.

  I was not shy. I’d never been shy.

  But he hadn’t answered when I’d asked about the important thing. So I didn’t insist he go first. I didn’t ask what he wanted to tell me again. Not yet.

  “I told you Maddy has a twin sister, right? The one James has a crush on?”

  “You said you got the feeling the twins were really different,” he said.

  “You can say that again.” I related the whole afternoon to him, sounding more confident than I was about managing to fix everything, get a story out of it, and not alienate Maddy in the process.

  This is what we always did—told each other everything. The thing was, usually when we swapped stories about our day, we were both completely engaged. I was perfectly capable of forgetting how much time had passed and what day of the week it was when we were in the game together or chatting back and forth on our laptops. And I thought it was the same for him. But tonight he hardly seemed to be paying attention. He was restless instead, lanky alien body meandering around the hillside while I talked.

  “And then the ceiling fell in and it turned out the entire Daily Planet Building had collapsed under alien attack,” I said. “Everyone died, the end.”

  “Huh,” he said.

  “And I’ll be starring in a musical version of these dark events.”

  No reaction.

  It stung that he wasn’t listening to me. Maybe this had to do with the important something. Although I’d assumed the something was good. That could have been a way overly optimistic assumption. After all, my luck tended to be bad.

  I snapped my fingers near his face, not loud or obnoxious but enough to get his attention. “I just told you that the Daily Planet blew up and everyone died and I was going to be in a musical about it. You’re a little distracted tonight.”

  He kicked the ground. “I’m sorry.”

  “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” I asked, my heart speeding up again. Stupid heart.

  What if it was bad news?

  Or what if it was news that would tell me once and for all whether he thought of these meetings as dates?

  He came closer, his restlessness evaporating, transforming into smooth, deliberate motion. His hand landed on my elbow, and he led me inside the turret.

  “I don’t want anyone to overhear,” he said.

  “I’ll bet you use that line with all the girls,” I quipped. But I was ridiculously aware of his hand on my skin.

  You’re really sitting in your room, alone, remember? I told myself. But the game always felt so real, like it might as well be reality. The present moment was no exception. We were in this moment, together, and the rest of the world might as well not ex
ist. It could be fake.

  “What? No, of course I don’t. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being mysterious, I know.”

  “More mysterious, you mean.”

  “Right. More mysterious.”

  There was a hint of the humor that came naturally to us, our state of equilibrium with each other.

  The torch-lit turret’s interior was brighter than the moonlight outside had been. In here, the flickering shadows from the flame dappled his green skin, showed off the blue eyes behind his glasses. He offered me his hand.

  “What’s this?” I asked. I put my hand in his and my heart sped up again.

  “A maybe-surprise that I hope works,” he said. “To make up for before?”

  His hand closed lightly around mine, and then—

  I gasped. Our feet left the ground and we floated up and up and up, into the tall turret, through the air.

  “I’ve got you, but don’t let go,” he cautioned.

  “I won’t,” I said, marveling at how safe it felt to float through space with my hand in his, high above the ground. I laughed. “How are we doing this?”

  “Aliens can develop the ability to fly in here. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I’d be able to bring you with me, so I didn’t want to spoil it in advance.”

  “Good surprise, Smallville.”

  He flew us over to a narrow window about halfway up the wall, with a ledge and a bench cut into the stone beside it. We smiled at each other, still holding hands. I’d already forgiven him forever for being distracted.

  We sat down on the bench, and his hand left mine. I spread my fingers on the rough stone beside me, like I didn’t mind that he wasn’t holding it anymore.

  Stupid, ridiculous heart, I thought again. Mine was beating so hard I could barely hear myself think over the racket.

  The window gave us a view of the landscape outside, a squad of mercenaries crossing it then, black-clad and toting heavy artillery. A bat with red lasers mounted on its wings flew by.

  “So the flying was what you had to tell me?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” he said. “But not that flying. Have you been on Strange Skies since this morning?”

  I shook my head. “No, why?”

  “A new user registered today, with the handle Insider01, and he or she is claiming that they know details about a ‘flying man,’ and they’ll be posting them on the boards.”

  His expression had changed to show his emotion. His skin pulled tight over the angular bones of his character’s face, eyes darkened with worry. It never ceased to amaze me how realistic the effects were in here.

  “What am I missing? That’s definitely strange, but why is this a huge deal?”

  When SmallvilleGuy first private-messaged me on Strange Skies after my first post, he’d assured me I wasn’t crazy and that I had seen what I thought I had that night. But he couldn’t tell me how he knew or who he was or explain any more. It was the only gulf between us, and it seemed narrower or wider depending on the moment. It was always, though, a gulf filled with secrets.

  Sometimes I almost forgot it was there, but it never really went away. He raked a hand through his avatar’s short black hair. “People on the boards are freaking out over it. They want whatever this person knows.”

  “I know you… know or knew something about the person I saw,” I said carefully. “Someone else could too, couldn’t they? And if there’s one flying person, could there be another?”

  I could feel the gulf of secrets spread between us, wider than ever.

  “I don’t know what to think. The whole thing feels off. What if this person does know something?”

  “About the flying man I saw?” I didn’t understand what about this was making him so upset.

  He nodded sharply. “But… do you think there could be another one? Like… maybe it wasn’t the same man?”

  There was a quality to his voice I’d never heard before. I couldn’t tell if that possibility made him feel better or worse, hopeful or scared. I couldn’t decode it from his expression, because he shifted to look out the window. I didn’t have a good enough angle to play interpreter of his features anymore, or enough information to translate his reaction without more to go on.

  I followed his gaze and saw the bat with red-laced lasers along its wings that had flown by earlier. It hovered in the air outside the opening, barely an arm’s length away. Like it was watching us.

  “Is it eavesdropping?” I asked.

  “Not for long.” SmallvilleGuy removed his glasses and shot laser vision to the left of the bat. It took off, flapping away into a sky a deeper red than the lines on its wings.

  Once it was gone, he scooted so he was facing me again. “What do you think the person plans to post?”

  “No clue,” I said, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. That’d really be something if it was good information. You know I’ve always been curious… but I’m not getting my hopes up. It’ll probably turn out to be someone who’s mad no one takes their probe stories seriously, having some fun with the rest of us. They’ll probably post that the flying man’s from the moon and only eats green cheese.”

  I was sure that would make him laugh. But it didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I can tell this is bothering you. Do you want to tell me why?”

  “More than you know.” But he didn’t say anything else.

  I nodded. “You can’t. I get it.”

  I expected him to apologize; that’s what he would have normally done. Instead, he asked, “You really think it’s nothing?”

  He was acting so strange. But I wanted to make him feel better. “If that’s what you want, then I’m going to say yes. It’s probably nothing.”

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “You’re probably right—as usual.” We smiled at each other, but his didn’t last. “But, Lois, it just doesn’t feel right. It feels like a threat. Like a trap.”

  A trap for the flying man? Well, after all, I owed the flying man one. He’d saved me and my dad from certain rock-doom.

  I chose my words with great care. I knew I was treading in dangerous territory. I just didn’t know why it was dangerous. “Maybe there’s some way to alert him. I know you can’t tell me how you knew I was telling the truth about seeing a person flying that night. But wouldn’t it make you feel better if you could get this off your chest and warn the guy?”

  I had no way of knowing if SmallvilleGuy could contact the flying man or not. But I knew he knew more than he could—or would—tell me.

  “It would,” he said. But nothing more.

  I’d never seen him like this. He was always the mellower one, the calm to my chaos. His restless unease was contagious. “Like I said, it’ll turn out to be nothing,” I said. “I’ll bet you.”

  I put enough challenge in my tone to make it clear the offer was literal.

  “What’s the bet?” he asked, intrigued.

  “Hmmm.” I searched for something good. He had asked a few days ago if I’d seen the Metropolis Monarchs, his favorite baseball team, like they’d just be strutting around town tossing balls in the air and catching them. “If you’re right and this is truly something to worry about, then I have to go to a Monarchs game and take pictures for you.”

  “And also wear a Monarchs T-shirt and a cap,” he said. “Like I would.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’ll wear the whole costume and take a selfie.”

  “It’s not a costume,” he countered, “it’s showing team spirit.”

  “The whole costume,” I repeated. “And if I win, which I will, you have to… take a picture of Nellie Bly and send it to me every day for a week. Bonus points if Shelby the wonder dog is in it too.”

  Nellie Bly was a baby cow a few weeks old that we’d named together. Shelby was his golden retriever.

  �
��Deal,” he said. “As much as I want those game photos, I hope you’re right. It just feels… off. Sorry again about before and being so…”

  “Space cadet-y? Ancient history. Don’t worry about it—and try not to worry about this boards stuff so much either, okay?” I grinned. “I hope I win too.”

  “I’ll try not to worry, Princess Lo.”

  “Funny—” but I stopped when I heard a noise from outside the game, the sound of a door shutting.

  I knew it was outside the game because SmallvilleGuy gave not one single sign that he heard it. And it was followed by the distant but distinct jingling clatter of keys being placed on the table by the front door downstairs.

  “My folks just got home,” I said. “I better go.”

  I wasn’t ready to leave, and I didn’t think he was either. “Thank you,” he said. “Talking to you always makes me feel better.”

  Double stupid heart, it beat-beat-beat like it might burst.

  “My pleasure, sap.”

  In the game I gave him a wave, and outside it I reached up to depress the holoset power button. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t come out too quickly.

  Which meant I barely had time to leap off the bed and stow the holoset in my desk drawer before a knock sounded at my bedroom door.

  “Come on in,” I said, faking a yawn.

  The door hinged in and my parents stuck their heads in the door. Mom looked beautiful, with her honey-blond hair in a schmancy party updo, and Dad was beyond polished, decked out in his dress uniform with all its ribbons and medals. Lucy stood behind them in unicorn-covered pajamas. She had a dot of chocolate on one cheek.

  “You guys are back early,” I said.

  “We just went to the reception,” Mom said. “Didn’t see the point in staying for dinner.”

  “Too bad you only left us one slice of pizza,” Dad added.

  “Whoops,” I said.

  “Night, Lois,” Mom said, and eased my door shut again.

  I waited until I heard their steps go the rest of the way up the hall to their room, then opened up my laptop and navigated to Strange Skies.