Sidekick: The Misadventures of the New Scarlet Knight (3 page)

“I’m okay, Auntie Morgaine.” I don’t usually call her that, but after her touching plea for the term of endearment, it would’ve been beyond rude not to, and remember what I said about annoying her. “I’m still a little shaken up, but the gang here’s been doing their best to pull me through.”

“Remember, we’re all here for you.” She sighed and released her grip. The blood slowly flowed back to my head, so I carefully lifted my eyes and was face to face with Mr. Zip.

“She’s right, Bobby.” He also embraced me, but fortunately, it was just a very solid “I love you, man” type of macho hug, which I didn’t mind as much as Morgaine’s python grip. “We can only imagine what you’re going through, and we all want to help in any way we can.”

“Jack Horner meant a lot to all of us,” Paragon butted in, barely rising from his chair, “but he was so much more to you. We’re all grieving, but your loss goes far beyond ours.”

Clytemnestra raised a hand in a dainty, but very authoritative, way. “I hate to destroy a tender moment, but we did call Bobby here on business.”

Paragon cleared his throat, which immediately commanded everyone’s attention. “You’re right, Clytemnestra. Would everyone please take their seat? Bobby, that includes you.”

I took a moment to make sure my ears hadn’t gone on strike, forcing my brain to rely on my nose or another body part that wasn’t good at interpreting sound. “I’m sorry? You want me to sit at the table? I’m not exactly in the same league.”

“That,” Mister Mystery said in that raspy half-hiss he thinks sounds intimidating but in truth sounds like pouring rock salt into a food processor, “is precisely why we called you here.” In his day job as Dr. Lawrence McBride, Mystery often needs to speak to people in a diplomatic, reassuring manner. I’d always thought the way he spoke to people while in his hero costume was his way of overcompensating for that soft, fluffy demeanor his secret identity demanded.

“Please, Bobby,” Paragon insisted, motioning to Uncle Jack’s old chair.

“Dude!” Rick whispered. “Do it! When are you going to get this chance again?”

Once I was finally sure this was real, and not just an extension of a weird hangover dream, I slowly slid into the empty chair.

It was comfortable. No, scratch that. It went beyond comfort. The chair molded to my body so well that for all I knew I was just hovering there. It made it easy to focus on what was being said to and about me.

“Squire, the six of us have been talking a lot the past few days.” Ah, using my hero name. He couldn’t have done a better job of signaling to me that what he was about to say wasn’t coming from my Uncle Hank, but from the head of the Justice Federation, and that he wasn’t speaking to Bobby Baines, but to the Scarlet Knight’s sidekick. “The death of Jack Horner is a personal tragedy for us all, but it’s an even bigger tragedy for Harbor City and the Justice Federation itself.”

“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say Uncle … excuse me, Paragon?”

“The biggest problem with secret identities happens when a hero dies. Whichever name the hero is buried under, be it Jack Horner or Scarlet Knight, pretty soon people put two and two together. Everyone in Harbor City has probably already noticed the Knight hasn’t been out patrolling the past couple of nights, and the next time the entire Justice Federation has to deal with an emergency, someone is going to notice there are only six of us.”

“Not only that,” Clytemnestra interrupted again, “but in the thick of a fight, it would leave us a man down. We can’t afford that.”

The gang behind me traded a few muffled whispers. It seemed they already knew what was going on, which annoyed me.

“Once people realize both Jack Horner and the Scarlet Knight have disappeared, someone is going to figure out they were the same person. We really don’t want that to happen.”

“Why not?” I honestly couldn’t understand the reasoning. “Uncle Jack’s dead. What’s going to be so bad if someone figures out he—”

“What’s going to be so bad,” Prism practically yelled (boy, could she be loud when she wanted to), “is the people who have a grudge against the Knight and Squire—and I’m sure you’re aware there are a lot of them—will have new targets to take their anger out on. They’ll go after your Uncle Jack’s factories and offices. Anything even remotely connected to him will have a giant bull’s-eye painted on it for every half-pint super villain looking to make his bones. A lot of innocent people could be hurt or even killed.”

“Not to mention,” Morgaine said in that smooth, reassuring, yet terrifying voice of hers, “they’ll come after you.”

“Me? Won’t they be coming after me already?”

“They’ll be coming after the Squire,” Paragon said softly. “But if they connect the dots about your Uncle Jack, then they’ll come after Bobby Baines.”

“I see.”

“I’m not so sure you do,” Mystery hissed. “They’ll take out the mansion, go after you at school. When you go off to college, they’ll probably take out your dorm. It’s the reason most of us maintain secret identities in the first place. Including, I might remind you, you yourself.”

“So.” I squirmed (which wasn’t easy in a chair this comfy). “What choice do I have? Are we looking at some kind of Sidekick Protection Program? Do I have to go underground?”

“Not exactly.” Paragon fumbled for a moment. “The easiest way to solve all the problems we’ve mentioned, and ensure the safety of the people of Harbor City, is to make sure it was only Jack Horner we buried yesterday and not the Scarlet Knight. The Scarlet Knight has to live on.”

More whispers from the gang. I’d finally figured out what was going on, too, but I wasn’t so sure I believed it.

Paragon and the other heroes stood. It was more than a little unnerving having them all stare down at me.

“Robert Baines.” Paragon switched to his voice-of-God tone. “It is my privilege to inform you, that for meritorious service and heroism, the Justice Federation has voted to extend to you an offer of membership, and requests you accept this membership under the name of Scarlet Knight.”

Big Shoes

As soon as I’d recovered from the shock of being asked to join the Justice Federation, the official meeting dissolved into a proper party. The formal atmosphere was replaced by the warm camaraderie of old friends. Except the heroes were on one side, and the sidekicks were on the other. Sort of like getting an extended family together for Thanksgiving dinner.

The problem for me was that this year the grown-ups had decided the time had come for me to sit at the big table, but I still felt like I belonged back in the kitchen with the other kids around the card table.

Could you blame me? I had so little in common with the other heroes, especially when it came to actual crime fighting. Outside of Uncle Jack, most of the time I’d spent on the hero front was alongside the other sidekicks. They were the ones I worked with, fought with, and hung out with, when we weren’t taking down villains who weren’t worth calling in the big guns. Heck, they were my
friends
.

It was Prism who finally broke the ice, crossing over to our side of the room while I was deep in a discussion with Rick about which bands at the top of the charts sucked the least. “I wanted to be the first to give you my congratulations, Bobby. I’m so proud of you, and I know Jack would have been, too.”

Her interruption gave me an idea. I nodded toward Rick, who got the hint and excused himself to go grab another soda.

“Aunt Phoebe,” I switched to her civilian name, “can I have a word with you? About a professional matter?” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, gently guiding her out of earshot of the others (well, at least of those with normal hearing). She gave me her serious smile—the one designed to reassure you while still letting you know she was concerned—and followed my lead.

“‘Aunt Phoebe?’ You don’t call me that often, Bobby.”

“Well, now that I’m supposedly your peer, do you want me to keep calling you ‘Miss Penobscot’? That just doesn’t seem right.”

“You could call me ‘Prism.’ But I guess you want to talk to me as your social worker instead of as a superhero?”

“A little of both, I guess.”

“Well, let’s see what I can do.”

***

A number of private rooms had been built into headquarters, providing the heroes with places to get away for meetings, quiet moments, and maybe a quick nap before going out and saving the world for the third time that week. Aunt Phoebe led me down a corridor and pointed me toward an automatic door much like the ones that had let me out of the hall and into the inner sanctum, but much smaller. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Open it.”

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about. I put my palm to the sensor, a beep sounded, and the door slid open. I looked at her, and she nodded for me to step through first. So I did.

The room wasn’t huge, but it was good-sized. About the size of my bedroom at the mansion and probably bigger than the dorm room I would (hopefully) find myself in seven months down the road. It was spartan but not uncomfortable. It had a bed with a mattress that seemed to be made of the same super-comfy stuff as the chairs at the big table, a desk, a chest of drawers, bookshelves, and a little alcove with a sink and shower. There was probably a toilet hidden in there somewhere too.

“Nice room. I would’ve thought you’d have decorated a little more. At least some books on the shelves.”

Prism laughed. “It’s not my room, Bobby. It’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“We all have them. This room is assigned to the Scarlet Knight.”

A lump jumped from my stomach and lodged itself in my throat. “Was this … ?” I choked back the emotions that suddenly threatened to overwhelm me and tried again. “Was this Uncle Jack’s room?”

“No, Bobby. We thought that might be a little too much for you to deal with right now, and it would be better for you to have a room of your own. We sealed Jack’s room and won’t be reassigning it. When and if you’re ready, you can go through it and take out his personal things. Not that he kept much in there. He never did like staying here more than he needed to.”

“I know. He always wanted to spend as much time at the mansion as he could; said it was his home, and that was where he belonged.”

“That was one of Jack’s charms. He was the most down-to-earth of all of us.” There was a certain wistfulness in her voice, which reminded me that she’d also shared a very close connection with Uncle Jack. Probably even a closer one than I did. “What’s on your mind?”

“Phoebe, what’s going to happen to me? I’m still underage. Yeah, I’ve been taking on adult responsibilities since I was eleven, maybe even before that if you consider what I went through before Pop died, but under the law I’m still a minor. You and Uncle Jack saved me from the foster care system once, and I don’t want to fall into it now. Especially since I don’t think another foster father is going to put up with me blowing off curfew because I’m out breaking up a terrorist cell or something.”

“We have that under control. I’m filing a petition for emancipation on your behalf next week. It shouldn’t be a hard case to win since Jack’s will made sure you’ve not only got a roof over your head, but enough income to probably make you the youngest billionaire in history. You won’t have to rely on others financially, and I think we can make a good case that as far as you’re concerned, seventeen is old enough to live on your own.”

“Thank you. That’s one load off my mind.”

“But why do I get the idea that’s not all you need to talk with me about?”

I hesitated, trying to find the courage to say what was on my mind. “It’s hard for me—”

“Bobby, I’ve known you longer than anyone else here. I’ve been your social worker ever since that unfortunate business with your father. There’s literally nothing you can’t say to me, and you know it. Now, spit it out.”

“Are you sure this is the right thing? Are you sure I belong alongside you guys?”

“Of course you do.”

I dragged myself over to the bed and flopped down. Even though I had enough adrenaline pumping through my body to kill an elephant (probably by making it run off a cliff), I was completely mentally exhausted and probably could have dropped right off to sleep. “But look at the six of you. Uncle Hank can smash through mountains and bend iron girders. You can refract light to shoot lasers and stuff. Mister Mystery can … well, be himself. I’m just a kid.”

Prism came over and sat at the foot of the bed. “You’re seventeen—not a kid anymore. But even if you still consider yourself a kid, you’re a kid with almost six years of experience on the job. That’s a lot more than any of us had when we started out. You’re not as green as you think.”

“I just have to wonder if I’m up to the job, is all.”

“If you weren’t, we wouldn’t have voted you in. We could’ve had one of us throw on the armor for a while, or taken turns pulling double duty to cover up the Knight’s absence, and then have him fade out once we were sure no one would connect his disappearance with Jack’s death. But we all agreed you were up for the job and deserved a seat at the table. You’re one of the best crime fighters out there, hero or sidekick. You’ve got great skills and even better instincts. You belong here. Have a little self-confidence.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m just a little uncomfortable getting the job through a dead man’s boots. Besides, there’s one other thing that’s got me nervous. I’ve been a sidekick since I started in this business. I’ve worked alongside the other kids. They’ve always been my peers. How are they supposed to see this? I’m not one of them anymore. I’m one of their bosses.”

“No, you’re not their boss. You’re still their peer. And as far as I’m concerned, you kids have always been our equals in this business. You put your lives on the line just as often as we do.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a sidekick. I’m pretty sure the heroes who do don’t think of it that way. I know the sidekicks don’t.”

“Then that’s something we’re going to have to change.”

I smiled. “I like that idea. But change doesn’t come easily, you know.”

“I know. The important thing is to be ready for it.” Prism stood. “Trust me, I’m sure the other kids are just as happy for you as the rest of us are. Even Mystery, and he’s never happy. Now all we need,” she kissed me gently on the forehead, “is for you to be happy, too.” She started toward the door. “Take a couple of minutes. Get comfortable. Then join us out at the big table. There’s cake. Just ignore the ‘happy birthday’ scrawled on it.”