Chương 20: Detectives and Divas

Police stations would be a lot more intimidating if they didn't feel so much like business offices. Everything was the color of beige or dull grey- the walls, the carpets, the furniture. Maybe they were trying to scare criminals with banality. The paintings were vague landscape scenes that had probably been stuck on the walls for fifty years. The smell of generic brand coffee pervades everywhere and the cops that I saw don't look like they can pass a blood pressure machine, much less a fitness test.

There was a sad weariness to the whole place. It was like the people working there had expected more from it as well and were depressed with how bland it all was. The criminals at least brought some life to the building. The pickpocket screaming profanity next to me really livened up the place and our police escort occasionally gathered the energy to tell her to shut up. You don't get the sense that justice was being served so much as justice was being bogged down with a lot of bureaucratic paperwork.

They waved a metal detector wand over Pickpocket and me, her eyes burning in my direction the whole time.

"You know the punishment for hiding superpowers is a lot worse than it is for pickpocketing," she sneered.

"Sounds like you know a lot about the matter. Are you planning on being a career criminal? Is this living the dream for you?" Her smile was brittle.

"They'll let me out in a day on bail, then I'm free again. But if they find out you're a super, you'll never really be "free", will you?" I didn't have anything to say to that. She got taken down the corridor on the left, walking with a smug smile on her face. She was finally done yelling. Her satisfaction over screwing me over had apparently outweighed her rage at getting arrested. Sikorsky put his hand on my shoulder and walked me down the hall on the right.

Each step felt like I was going deeper into the belly of the beast known as the government and I wouldn't be coming back out as easily. He opened a door and ushered me in. I looked back at him, eyes wide. He looked me over and shook his head.

"Don't look so scared, kid. Either you're telling the truth and you'll go home or you have powers and will have to register." He smiled.

"Maybe they will even let you into the hero academy." I just stared at him until he shut the door in my face. The interrogation room was legitimately intimidating just for its complete lack of anything. There was a table and two chairs, that was it. The walls were painted stark white, sounds reverberate too loudly in the small room, and you get the awkward mix of feeling cloistered and out in the open all at the same time. They sat me down, got me a soda, chips, and a sandwich- all for free.

Then I was left alone for a long time. The sandwich is nice, not from a dispensing machine. Maybe I should implicate myself for a crime anytime a ketchup and cracker day rolled around just for the free lunch. Free housing, electricity, showers, libraries, bed and board, all that. Maybe I needed to rethink the benefits here. Oh yeah, wait, I'd probably die of strangulation from my cellmate Big Bertha pancaking down on me one night.

And have my powers be found out and become a pawn of the Academy for the rest of my life. I needed to live to spend this two hundred dollars in my pocket someday. And you know, live a good life, use my powers to save others, all of that. I sat in my chair, tapping my foot slightly, my fingers rubbing on my jeans back and forth. Then I stopped.

Plenty of cop interviewing criminal videos had taught me that: a) They watched the suspect on video even when no one else was in the room And b) Cops were trained to be experts in body language, and ones with years of experience can easily tell when someone was lying. I replayed my Costanza mantra in my head over and over: It's not a lie if you believe it. It's not a lie if you believe it. But I couldn't stop believing, just like Journey told me to do with that one song.

I was a super and it was stamped into my blood now just like my own DNA. They were going to see it with just one look at my face when they asked that very question. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose. My heartbeat thumped fast in my chest and I listened only to that for awhile. The thing is, I hadn't done anything wrong. They wouldn't see it as such, but that was based on their own twisted perception of how society should be.

Sure, my record wasn't completely clean; I'd wrongfully and mistakenly tasered a teenage boy until he peed himself, but none of us go through life perfectly. The Academy's regulation certainly did not prevent official supers from making far worse mistakes than I did. Mavis' mom was a testament to that. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I'd done mostly good and I intended to do more.

It was their fault for seeing that as something to be directed, and it wasn't my fault that I should be able to live my life without their watchful eye. So to tell a lie right now, even to a police officer, while not legal from a technical perspective, was morally valid. It was the right thing to do so that I could continue saving people on my own terms, in my own way, which, frankly, the big supes were too busy to do anyway.

Maybe I wouldn't be saving lives like they were, but I might save people from having a bad day. That happened a lot more frequently than a life or death situation. So there was no need to be nervous because lying was doing a good deed. It was the morally imperative thing to do. I just needed the right lie. The plan I'd made in the car ride over was to cast doubt on my culpability. People wouldn't believe me as a sweet, innocent angel who goes to bible study on Wednesdays.

Girls like that didn't wind up in interrogation rooms. They'd dig deeper until they found the guilty girl they expected. What I needed was to give them something that met their expectations, but didn't get me shipped off to a cell or an Academy dorm room. What did all adults expect teenagers to be? The door swung open and a short, portly detective stepped into the room.

His belt looked like it was struggling to keep his slacks from sliding down and his white button up shirt had what looked like a coffee stain on his chest. He sauntered into the bare room and took one of the wooden chairs across the small table from me.

"You are in a lot of trouble, Miss Keene." His voice was a little high and the smell of his breath confirmed the origins of the stain on his shirt.

"Remaining unregistered after receiving powers is a serious matter." My eyes widened as they stared up at him, my heart squeezing like a fist was around it. He knew. I felt all of the saliva in my mouth dry up, so when I tried to swallow, I just choked on air. What, did the metal detector they waved over me before double as a super indicator? You'd think it would have buzzed or something to give me a warning. Guess the car crash infamy didn't persuade them.

Maybe I wasn't the only super to discover my powers until years after. It must be something they all know about, just not us silly civilians. I wondered what Gran's face would be like when she found out. The cop watched me closely with his small watery blue eyes. No, I was wrong. This was that cop thing where they pretend the person already did the thing they were accusing them of so the person will just admit it. They were trying to trick me into confessing. There was still a way out.

I just needed him to doubt my credibility. I had to say something. My mouth opened and out came, "Oh my gosh, do you think I might have powers? That would be totes amazing!" I was no longer Cass. I was Kassandrai, and yes, the 'i' was pronounced on the end. Cass died of shame and humiliation the moment the ditz known as Kassandrai opened her mouth for the first time.

"Do you guys, like, know what they are?" My voice went up and down like a rollercoaster with a heavy dash of vocal fry mixed in. I twirled some of my hair around a finger.

"I always knew that my ability to make anything look good was superhuman, but Becky said that makes me sound like a diva. You don't think I sound like a diva, do you? I mean look at what I'm wearing. Brittney said I would look like a hobo, but I am totally pulling it off. I feel like the purple hair gives it a ghetto chic vibe. What do you think?" Officer Coffee Stain opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I just kept going.

"You're defs right, it's too bright to be ghetto. It's gotta be neon retro. But, anyway, I still look amazing in it. I always knew that car crash had to trigger something in me because I have been dressing fabulously since I was five. Do you think the hero academy needs a super fashion consultant because, let me tell you, I would be amazing. Have you seen some of their costumes? OMG I wouldn't be caught dead in Eco Girl's outfit. Like, hello! All green is too much green. Am I right?"

He tried to get a word in several times, but I just kept talking. I vomited up all the drivel I had ever heard escape the mouths of some of the empty-headed girls at East Central High. I must have droned on for an hour about fashion and my fictional friends who were all B-words, but they were the best and I loved them. I also speculated about my possible powers ranging from being in touch with my emotions to channeling the specific aspects of my zodiac sign.

Eventually I started to run out of material and just looked at him and said, "Anyway, what do you think?" He had stopped trying to respond or interrupt maybe thirty minutes ago and had just been staring at me with a glassy look in his eyes. Like his body was still there but his soul had sought escape. He gave himself a shake as if waking up and then looked at me blankly.

"Think about what?"

"Oh my gosh! Were you not listening?" My voice reached banshee-like levels.

"Honestly, I don't know why I bother talking to men at all. My ex was exactly the same way. I try to have a mature conversation about his star sign so that he can understand how to be a better boyfriend to me and he just falls asleep. Can you believe that? Obviously I broke up with him." His eyes were starting to grow vacant again when I reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Do you think my power could be some type of hypnotism? Maybe it only works on boys because honestly they are always zoning out and never remember when I tell them how to be better." The detective slowly extricated himself from my hands and stood before backing up towards the door.

"I think there has probably been some type of mistake. I'm going to go check some paperwork and see about who made this accusation." My heart leapt, but my face pulled down into a frown.

"Are you saying I might not have powers afterall?!" He laughed awkwardly.

"I'm sure you're very special in your own way Miss Keene, but I don't believe you are a super." Just as he finished speaking, the door opened behind him and through it stepped a woman. Her dome-shaped brown hair and bland pant-suit immediately jogged my memory. It was Ms. Briggs, Super Protection Agency pin stuck to her jacket lapel. The woman who had apparently read Harry Potter and saw Dolores Umbrage as someone to aspire to.

"I wouldn't be so quick to make assumptions, detective." Her sickly sweet smile was plastered to her face, but her eyes stared at me like I was her next meal.