Little Spark

11 - The Powerhouse

Candis and I agree to meet at Common Grounds the following morning, and I attach the lapel pin to the inside of my jacket so I won't forget it.

The fresh air and freedom from school are exhilarating, but all joy evaporates the moment I reach the café and see Duff, Cary, and Reign lurking across the street.

"Hot BAM, New Girl!" Duff hollers as I rack my bike. "You're even finer off school grounds!"

Reign and I make eye contact; he's trying not to laugh.

Candis appears at my side. "Don't you have a hydrant to pee on, Duff?" she shouts loud enough for the whole Southeast to hear.

"I was hoping your girl Bliss would throw a dawg a bone, yo!"

"How bout we throw you a breath mint, yo? I'm sure you need one considering the inordinate amount of time you squander licking your own as—"

"Ohhhh-kay, Candis," I say taking her hand. "Let's go inside now."

"Oh, and Candyland," Cary yells, "tell the geisha she can give me a massage anytime!"

"YOU MISERABLE SON OF A BI..." Candis releases a string of expletives and lunges toward them, but I'm able to get an arm around her waist and pull her toward the door.

Relenting, she flings it open and practically stomps inside. "Ugh!" she bellows. "I can't stand those repugnant nincompoops!" Mr. Tate glances through the window at the source of her ire and chuckles, shaking his head.

We go to a table as far from the window as possible. "Forgive my indecorum, B-Babe," she says as she smooths the front of her button-down and straightens her skirt—the girl always looks like she on her way to an interview at somebody's corporate offices. "I get a little insolent when interacting with those deviants. The abhorrence I feel for them could be likened to the fire of one-thousand suns."

"Really now?" I say. "I was under the impression that you were Duffy's biggest fangirl, Candis."

She laughs and the tension slips from her shoulders. "So what you brings you here on this exquisite Saturday morning?"

I pull the newspaper article out of my pocket and slide it to her.

"Where on earth did you find this?"

"In an old file of my grandmother's. The guy in the picture—Cole, I think his name is—he's not the mayor anymore, right?"

She snorts. "Cole Shetani would keel over and croak before willingly relinquishing his derisible little throne. It's been a decade since anyone ran against him, and that guy had a questionable cardiac arrest a week before the election."

"Ah..." I gulp. "Okay then."

"Why are you asking me about the mayor, Beez?"

I trace circles on the table with my fingertip as I try to come up with something plausible. I can't just come out and say, Well, he looked at me funny after I almost took our plane down in my sleep because my emotions sometimes have a powerful effect on electricity due to a gift I have that's supposed to help me on a mysterious quest to take down the supernaturally evil people who killed my father before I was born... oh, and my skin glows when I get fired-up. Pun intended. She'll think I'm fifty shades of cray-cray.

"Umm... well, we were on the same flight, and he saw this pin I was wearing and kind of looked at me funny." I remove the pin and slide it to her.

Her mouth falls open. Now she's looking at me funny. I count the lights to pre-assess the damage: sixteen hanging from the ceiling, and three floor lamps.