Aftermath: Part 5
The police came twenty minutes later. Haley had to knock the guy out three more times while we were waiting for them. We'd moved him back into his room to keep him warm while we waited -- not that it made the room much warmer. I'd broken his window when he jumped me.
We had to deal with predictable issues in the meantime. The man with the camera wouldn't leave us alone. He hung around and asked questions until the police arrived.
By the time the police put the man who'd attacked us onto a stretcher and carried him off, his muscles had gone down to their normal size.
Haley and I walked back to the car.
"Do you want to drive?" I asked. "It's your grandfather's car."
"No, go ahead," she said. "I'll be glad to warm up."
I opened the car doors.
"Maybe we can find a coat for you or have one made. I don't know. Something that doesn't restrict your movements, but keeps you warm in the winter."
We sat down and shut the doors. I started the car and turned on the heater, taking off my helmet. She pulled off her mask.
The clock on the dashboard said that the time was quarter after eleven. I hadn't broken curfew so much as shattered it.
"Nick, can we talk?"
"Sure," I said. I couldn't imagine that my parents would be much more angry at 11:40 than they would have been at 11:20.
"I meant to tell you about the poison and everything, but I get worried," she said.
"You don't have to be," I said. "There's nothing to worry about. It'd be nice to have powers all the time. I'm stuck with whatever I happen to be wearing, and if it's the wrong thing, I'm useless."
"It's not nice," she said. "It didn't bother me when I was little. The block kept me from showing it to people or talking about it, but that wore off in middle school -- and that's just when I started to really be able to change. After that, it was always there. I had to watch what I did, and not jump too high, or try too hard, or stand out."
"The little marks where the claws come out never go away, and sometimes people ask about them," she said. "I tell them it's a birth defect."
"I didn't know you thought about it that way," I said.
"I don't all the time," she said.
She went quiet for a few moments. "There was a gymnastics meet tonight. I heard it from Jenny. Not being involved this year I don't think I've talked to her or anyone else on the team since the season started."
I thought about what to say next. It seemed obvious that I ought to say something -- ideally something comforting, but I drew a blank.
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I put my hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into me and I let my arm go across her back.
We stayed that way for a while.