Young Sentinels (Wearing the Cape) (Volume 3) by Marion G. Harmon Page B

going to find you and hurt you.”
    “ Spoilsport. Seriously — this is the next rung in your climb to total awesomeness. Before we’re done, you’ll be legendary .”
    I waved to some lingering office-bodies in the Aon Center. Blackstone had informed me that Hillwood’s headmaster had rejoiced at our offer, then dug in his heels at one of our choices — I could guess which one — until Blackstone had suggested he might get better cooperation from another school. The headmaster caved and Blackstone and Quin were negotiating with our picks and their legal guardians now.
    “ So, who did you choose? ”
    “Grendel, Tsuris, and Ozma.”
    Only one of those three names publicly belonged to their owners yet, and I imagined I could hear her switch over to The Book for the others.
    “ You picked future supervillains?”
    Yeah, that was predictable. “They don’t have scarlet ‘V’s stamped on their foreheads, Shell.”
    She giggled. “ Blackstone must have freaked.”
    “He never freaks.”
    “ No, he doesn’t. Ozma ? Wow, that’s just wrong . Like tagging Mussolini for your team .”
    “She never killed — never will kill — anyone, Shell. Okay, she wiped memories. And turned enough people into hats to open a haberdashery franchise, but not permanently.”
    “ Kansas — ”
    “We don’t know what happened in Kansas.”
    “ Okay ... and we can certainly use some magic muscle. Grendel? You read his future war crimes file, right? ”
    I sighed. Shelly was the least uncertain person I knew in any situation — no matter how something turned out, she could never imagine herself deciding differently. Which was probably why, even with all TA’s contingent futures in her head, she couldn’t imagine someone else taking a different path. Change of plans? Yes. Change of direction? Not so much.
    So how would she take it if she knew I’d used Blackstone’s offer to get her a chance at her own change of direction?

    Grendel
    I closed my door and dropped on the bed.
    Latisha hadn’t been understanding. She’d never had a problem with Ozma; as beautiful as the princess was, she was also a 100–year-old virgin and therefore not competition, and Latisha had initiated our relationship in the first place — a wicked-smart, smoking hot D Class, she’d made up for her lack of serious power by accessorizing herself with one of Hillwood’s current alpha-supers, me. But she’d assumed somewhere that it would last until graduation.
    My telling her that I was leaving because the princess had crooked her finger told her everything she’d needed to know about where she ranked. She was cool and fun, and we’d been good with each other, but she’d never asked for more, I’d never offered, and I’d leave with Ozma because two years ago she’d promised me justice. Latisha knew that now; she just didn’t care.
    “Brian?” Nix called softly from the vent.
    “Come in, Nix.” She fluttered up to perch on my lamp. Ozma had humored the little doll’s wish to be a fairy by making her a pair of attachable butterfly wings that, against all laws of nature, worked . She adjusted her gauzy lace skirts.
    “Are you ready to go?”
    I gave her the kind of toothy grin that reminded most people of my willingness to rip arms off. She sighed, not exactly the reaction I’d been aiming at.
    “My aunt and uncle have signed off on it,” I said, wondering what she was looking for.
    That had been an intense conversation but they were just glad I knew what I wanted to do, and it was normal enough even if it was all happening pretty fast. CAI teams creating spots for Academy seniors with valuable power sets was pretty routine, and we’d finish our classes by computer correspondence and return for graduation.
    She tucked her legs up, rested her chin on her ball-joint knees, and her next sigh turned into a sniff. I put down the six-pack I’d pulled out of my closet for the common hall party downstairs. Since we weren’t sure when we were