CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
I Know Your Secret

"Did the athletic trainer clear you for practice today?" Evette asked, spinning the combination on her locker. Cole groaned and threw his textbook into the bottom of his locker, making Evette flinch at the bang! it made. His free hand came up to hold his sore ribs subconsciously. Evette noticed he was moving a lot more naturally today, but he still flinched if he made too sudden of a movement or accidentally knocked his ribs.

Cole glanced sparingly at his sister. "Not yet."

"Okaaaay," Evette drawled at his terse reply, "Do I need to go beat up the player who did this to you?"

Cole snorted and turned fully towards his sister now. His eyes scrutinized her from head to toe. "You're like five foot tall," he deadpanned.

"Okay and? I can still kick the ass of whoever hurt my brother." Evette bounced on her heels and threw a punch at the air between them, just narrowly missing Cole's nose. He flinched back and gave her a look.

"As tempting as that sounds, I'll pass." He turned back to his locker and scanned the haphazard pile of  school supplies for his economics book. Evette feigned disappointment and sighed, but on the inside, she wondered if she could actually beat someone up, like for real. Months ago her joke would've just been an empty threat, but now . . . now things were different. If she could debilitate Elton's very own superhero Azure, then she could surely beat up a random football player.

But Evette wasn't even so sure it'd been a football player who hurt Cole's ribs. He'd been more on edge lately, and usually that ended with him picking more fights, both in and out of school.

"You've been hurt a lot more recently," Evette mused, dancing around the topic. She watched him carefully. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Cole's hand on his book momentarily froze. For a moment Evette thought he might actually say something, but just as fast as the moment came it passed, and Cole slammed his locker shut and turned away with a mumbled, "I gotta get to class."

Evette watched his retreating form with a frown etched onto her face. What was he hiding?

Across the hall, Ross's eyes followed Cole, then darted back to Evette standing with slumped shoulders at her locker. She really was clueless. Ross couldn't help but feel relieved—it meant that Mr. Bonavich hadn't started hitting her too.

Just Cole.

That part still struck a nerve with Ross, but he was still at a crossroads with how to deal with it.

Before Ross had time to convince himself to just keep walking, his legs carried him over to the sad blonde. He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably as her racing thoughts slipped into his mind unwillingly. Putting an impassive look on his face, he turned the volume up on his phone and secured both earbuds in his ears, not wanting to invade her privacy more than he already had.

"Hey," he said, "Is everything okay?"

Evette glanced up at him, shaking herself out of her thoughts. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the football player standing in front of her. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Are you good?" he repeated.

Evette stifled a frown and fought a forced smile onto her face. Why did he care? They'd only ever talked one other time, and the conversation was short and dry and meaningless. "Yeah, I'm good."

She hesitantly met Ross's gaze. He narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head a fraction.

Evette sighed and fell back against the lockers. "I'm just worried about Cole. I don't get why he can't just talk to me."

Ross knew why Cole wouldn't talk to her. But suddenly he wondered if it would be such a bad thing if Evette did find out. Maybe then Cole wouldn't be alone in his suffering.

Instead of saying any of what he was thinking, Ross just shrugged and said, "Twins, huh?"

Evette snorted and flashed her eyes up to his. "Exactly."

They shared a lighthearted smile, but Ross's expression faltered when someone walked past him and a familiar voice filled his head.

We need to talk.

Ross glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the girl's intricate braids and seemingly distracted exterior. When she looked up, her dark eyes skimmed the hall, connected with Ross's for a second, then looked away as if nothing had happened.

Ross turned back to Evette. "Hey, I gotta go, but . . . " he struggled, "just—good luck, with Cole. He'll come around."

"Sure," Evette nodded.

Ross sent her a forced smile before turning to see what Camille needed. He crossed the hallway and met her outside an empty classroom, looking over his shoulder conspicuously.

Camille backhanded his arm lightly. Quit looking so suspicious.

He glared at her in response, but he didn't look over his shoulder again.

Camille sighed, prepping herself for the bomb she was about to drop. It's Lewis Johnson.

Lewis? How do you know? Ross asked telepathically.

I forgot my phone in the computer lab, so I went back to get it and I saw Lewis . . . Camille's thoughts jumbled together as she recalled the events. She shook her head with knitted eyebrows. It's hard to explain. One second he was at the back of the room at a computer, and then and he was gone and the computer was off. I tried to look at the search history to see what he was looking at, but he erased it. She leveled her gaze with Ross, eyes yearning for him to believe her. Their search for Azure had gone into overdrive since the night of the party, when Azure himself made an appearance.

Ross studied Camille's serious face, the way her eyes were unwavering and her lips were set in a firm line. He nodded. "Okay. What do we do?"

Camille's gaze shifted to over Ross's shoulder. "We force him to admit it."

"Woah, stop," Ross caught Camille's hand as she tried to walk past him. He pushed a message into her mind: We can't just do this here, not like this.

Camille wrenched her hand from his and he let go immediately. The bell rang overhead. "It's time for lunch. Let's invite Lewis to sit with us."

Ross watched helplessly as Camille walked away, joining the crowd of other high schoolers towards the cafeteria. He struggled for a moment—were they really ready to confront Azure? What were they even going to say?—but he eventually pounded a fist on the lockers and jogged to catch up.

As he entered the large room, he noticed Camille had already found a spot sitting across from Lewis at an empty table.

"It's now or never," Ross muttered under his breath before joining them.

Lewis looked up from his lunch, wide-eyed as Camille—the most intimidating girl he'd ever met—sat down at his table in front of him, with the staggering figure of the largest football player at their school sitting at her side. Lewis gulped.

"Uh, h—hey?"

Ross and Camille shared a look.

"We know your secret," Camille stated. Lewis stared at her, mouth agape. His eye twitched.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about." He averted his eyes to his lunch in front of him and started stabbing his pasta salad.

"Lewis," Ross said, making him look at him. Ross tried to put on his least-threatening face. Your secret is safe with us.

Lewis stared blankly at Ross, but Ross knew he'd heard his thought loud and clear.

"We're like you, too," Camille added. "We're . . . different."

Lewis squinted at them and motioned with his fork between the two of them. "Why are you guys sitting with me?"

"I just told you, Lewis," Ross grumbled.

Camille leaned across the table and whispered, "Or should we say Azure?"

Lewis studied both of the people in front of him with calculating eyes. There was no way he could've talked his way out of this one. Camille saw him use his powers just ten minutes ago—he'd only hoped she hadn't recognized his face.

Ross and Camille jolted when Lewis suddenly hit his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands, hiding his face. "I'm so stupid," he groaned, voice muffled by his (not blue) hoodie. Camille sent Ross a helpless look. She wasn't exactly expecting this reaction—maybe a little more denial and hostility, not whatever this was.

"Look, we're not here to gloat," Ross leaned down to see if he could catch Lewis's attention again. "We need your help."

Camille cut him a sharp look. "We do not need his help."

"We do, actually." Ross met her incredulous look with his own. "How do you expect us to find out who did this to us with just our combined powers? We need all the help we can get." Ross looked back to Lewis, who was peering at them with raised eyebrows. He purposefully avoided Camille's eyes. "Including the Flame's."

Camille threw her hands up and fully turned to face the infuriating boy beside her to tell him off, but Lewis beat her to it.

"No. Absolutely not, very bad idea," Lewis blurted. "I've already tried to stop her and I can't."

"Maybe not alone."

"Woah, hold up, brain-boy," Camille said. "We never talked about teaming up with the Flame."

"I know, I just thought of it," Ross replied. When Camille rolled her eyes, he jumped to defend himself. "Think about it. We get our powers and at the same time a super-villain pops out of nowhere. You can't tell me there's no way The Flame has nothing to do with what's happened to us."

Lewis perked up. "Wait, what are your powers anyway?"

Telepathy and teleportation, Ross said in Lewis's mind. Lewis nodded, looking to Camille. She picked at her chipping nail polish.

"Super-strength, and I can do flips and stuff." She felt her face heat up after admitting it out loud, albeit quietly. She didn't know exactly how it worked, but it was like her body belonged to a trained parkour artist and insane body builder in one. That wasn't exactly the standard superpower. Thankfully, Lewis didn't question it.

"So how do we get the Flame?" he asked quietly. He suddenly seemed hyper aware of their surroundings.

Ross glanced at a freshman girl as she walked past their table. When she was out of earshot, he replied in just as quiet of a voice, "We'll figure it out."

"And what happens after we capture her?" Lewis asked.

"We make her tell us what she knows. Maybe she's working with whoever gave us these powers," Camille said. She met Ross's eyes and he nodded at her, making her voice grow stronger. "Then we stop them. Whoever they are, whatever they're doing—we stop it."

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