Maisie swings her feet on the faded green bench as she waits for the school bus to arrive. She tries to focus on the birds singing, instead of on her heart thumping in her chest.
“You’ll rule middle school,” she tells herself as a yawn escapes her. Maisie wipes sweaty palms on her skirt
The metal hallways flash red as my team and I dash toward the control room. Security alerts reverberate through the corridors, muffling the sounds of our footsteps.
“Attention,” a voice blares. “Intruders detected in Hallway B3. Deploying security measures. Attention. Intruders detected in hallway B3…”
I grin. “They’re onto us, boys.”
Kaloa headed for the water, surfboard in hand. The crashing waves roared the truth he refused to hear: he kept trying to prove he was the same rider from fifteen years ago.
He duck-dived through the break and surfaced in a prime spot. One, two, three paddles—he was up.
“The King is dead!”
Thunderous roaring from the crowd called for the king’s head, deafening me and chilled me to the bone. Only one thing had satisfied them: the King’s blood. My blood.
Did my people really loathe me that much?
If they thought the king was dead… A sickening knot formed in my stomach.
Janitor. Maid. Hygienic maintenance specialist. All these job descriptions were technically accurate. But none of them alluded to the truly unique skillset required to be a member of the staff cleaning crew at C.A.P.E Quarters—that is, the headquarters of the Crimefighting Association of Powered Entities.
She was Dee Dalsey … The Cleaning Lady.
Recent Comments