Heroes at Heart

Six: Clare Owens

Mom doesn't think I notice. But I do.

I noticed how she got up at six in the morning to make sure Max had a healthy breakfast before he left. And the second he was out the door, she turned on the radio to the station that the cops use, to make sure nothing bad was happening in the area.

I noticed her tired eyes, and the bills piling up on her desk. How she tells us not to worry, that we're fine, even though there's no way we could be.

And I noticed that when your brother's out saving the world, everyone kind of stops noticing you exist.

But while most people would absolutely hate the lack of attention, for me it's the best thing that's ever happened.

For once, I'm not "the disabled girl". People are talking to me for reasons other than my leg (or lack thereof). Yesterday, a girl asked me if I was Max's sister. Max's sister! Not "are you okay?" Or "was that from, like, a freak accident or something?". I finally have an identity that's not rooted in the fact that I have one less limb than everybody else. And it's glorious.
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Max had only been gone for a couple of hours, but by the time he returned home, he looked like he had just lost a battle.

"Woah," I said, after opening the front door. "What happened to you?"

Max's clothes were ripped and torn, and I could see blood coming from a cut on his forearm. The mask he had made last night from an old ninja costume hung limply from his neck. He looked... defeated.

But he still managed to shoot me a smile. "Long story, kiddo."

And that's the thing about Max. Even after he loses a fight with the most dangerous villain in the eastern United States, he's able to come home to his family and smile. He makes sure we're okay before he worries about himself.

Max glanced up the stairs, and in the other room. "Is mom around?"

"Max?" Mom practically ran down the stairs to meet us at the front door, immediately stopping when she saw the condition he was in.

"Oh my god, are you hurt?" She asked. Max slyly moved his injured arm behind his back as he responded. "I'm fine, mom."

"I shouldn't have let you do this," mom said to herself. And then she was nearly yelling. "Why did I let you do this?"

"Mom, seriously. It's nothing to worry about. I'm a bit scratched up. So what? I made progress."

He was lying. Max's real smile is a bit lopsided; his mouth goes higher on the right. But when he's faking it, his grin is perfectly even. Luckily, mom hasn't picked up on it yet.

"Max, if you want to keep doing this, you're going to need some sort of protection. Otherwise," she jerked her thumb in the other direction, "You're out. Don't people like you usually wear suits, or armor or something?"

"Yeah, but I think a flying kid in gym clothes really throws people off. You know, so I can distract them before I go in for the attack?"

I snorted.

"Max, this is serious!" Mom was exasperated. "I'm calling Nora this evening. They can't keep sending you out like this!"

Panic briefly flashed in Max's eyes, but it was gone within an instant. "No, I'll call her," he said.

There was a moment of silence, as mom tried to figure out if she had seen the same thing I had: Max was hiding something. But if he hadn't told mom, it had to be something really important. Even before dad died, Max and mom were really close. So whatever it was, there was a reason he wasn't telling her.

"What was he like?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

Max's eyes lit up as he looked down at me. "Huh?"

"Vinicus Cauldwell. What was he like? I mean, we see him on the news all the time, but to really see him, how was he like?"

"Ohh," Max replied. "Well. He was tall. Taller than me. But then again he had on these really tall black boots with buckles instead of laces. It was actually pretty crazy." The three of us walked over to the dining room table as Max continued to talk.

"He was wearing all black, actually. He had this jacket that looked like one of those old-timey Navy jackets, the ones with the gold buttons across the front? Black hair, black pants; I think he had green eyes though. He was pretty intimidating."

Mom waited a moment before asking how Max had gotten all scratched up.

"Oh," Max said quietly. "I um... fell through a window..."

"You what!"

At this rate, mom was never going to let Max go to the drugstore without supervision, let alone fight with Vinicus Cauldwell. But I could tell, although I don't know why, that this was something Max really wanted to do. I had to keep mom distracted.

"But he's fine!" I said. They both looked toward me.

"I mean, he's alive, right? And it's just his clothes that got messed up... Um... so what exactly happened with Vinicus?"

"I'm getting to it," Max said. "So he's got this cage, right? Oh, and did I mention the guy has freaking telekinesis?"

And that's how the conversation continued: Max recounting his "battle" with Vinicus, making the dangerous parts funny so mom wouldn't freak out. Mom would start to worry, I would jump in and change the subject, and Max would go on with the story.

"And then I flew away," Max finished.

"You flew away?" I laughed. "Seriously?"

Max raised his eyebrows. "Well what would you have liked me to do?"

"I don't know, punch him or something?"

Max didn't seem to think it was funny. "Well next time I'll make sure to bring you up there with me so you can see that that's not how it works."

I could tell it was time to stop joking around. Maybe Max hadn't wanted to fly away in the first place. He had probably been scared, and left as soon as he could.

Max and mom began to talk, but I was no longer paying attention. In listening to Max's story, I realized that something just wasn't adding up. If Vinicus hadn't caused trouble in ten years, why did they need to send Max to him?

I waited until mom left to prepare lunch before asking Max. If he did know the reason, this could definitely be the thing he was hiding from her. As soon as mom was out of the room, I grabbed Max's hand and dragged him upstairs.

"What?" He whispered loudly.

I got straight to the point. I couldn't risk mom overhearing us. "What are you even trying to do there?" I whispered back. "Like what's your goal?"

Max shrugged. "Stop Vinicus, I guess."

And that's exactly what I thought he would say.

"Vinicus hasn't caused any problems in ten years." I paused, waiting for him to take it in. "So what are you stopping him from?"

I could almost see the wheels turning in Max's brain.

He doesn't even know.