Unexpected Consequences

11. Breaking News: Red Soldier Is A Human

THE INTERVIEW ARRIVED quickly. I spent the entirety of the school day rehearsing lines and trying to remember what I was and wasn't allowed to say—the thought that Nichols would literally drag me off the stage if something secret slipped out was great motivation.

And, of course, I looked up Debbie Yates. She seemed to be mild, as in she didn't take it easy but never ripped apart her guests, either. Kavanagh had said it was either her or Kate Wilson, who was the Gordon Ramsey of interviewers complete with the heavy-language insults, and I was thankful I'd gotten Debbie.

I poked my head out of the corner of the curtain to get a peek at the audience. They sat there quietly, and not a single one (except for Mom) looked happy to be here. It looked more like they were attending a funeral, or at least a show that they expected to be terrible but had to see anyway. I was disheartened; this was supposed to be a good thing, a chance for me to connect with the people I was protecting, but none of them seemed to care.

I stepped back and adjusted my suit. Kavanagh was around somewhere, Nichols was a few feet away, talking to somebody, and all around backstage were the set crew flurrying about, carrying papers and coffee and talking softly into their headsets. Debbie herself I hadn't seen yet; she was probably already on the stage, sitting on the iconic maroon seat she'd been using for the past decade.

A hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed. "Do you see them out there?" I asked, sullen.

"It can't be that bad," Kavanagh said. He parted the curtain to take a look, and I could tell by the way he immediately looked away that he thought it was bad, too.

"Look at them. They hate me." I waited for a crewwoman to pass. "They clearly don't think I can do this."

And I knew that it was a fact because if I were on the other side, I would have lost faith, too.

Kavanagh opened and closed his mouth. I waited for the Hallmark remark that was definitely coming, but Nichols gently grabbed me by the elbow and tugged me toward the stage. "Showtime."

The cameras swung around as I sat down. Debbie greeted me with a warm smile and pointed at the water bottle on the coffee table. I nodded. The director sat down in his chair next to the main camera and pushed a button. The show was officially on.

Debbie leaned forward with her elbow resting on the armrest. "Hello, folks. Today I'm sitting with Red Soldier in his first ever media appearance."

The audience applauded. She put a lot of emphasis on the words first ever, and the impact was fresh. This was the first time I was speaking directly to them, and I suddenly realized that this was long, long overdue. Nichols was right. Sooner or later, this was going to happen—whether I screwed up or not. So I just had to make the best of it.

I waved awkwardly. The audience chuckled. Mom had a hand over her mouth, and when she caught me looking, she gave me a subtle but encouraging thumbs-up.

"Good afternoon, New York," I said, smiling into the camera.

"So, Red Soldier, I'm sure you know what my first question is going to be."

I shifted in my chair. "I believe I do."

"Why did you stop that robbery in Chicago?"

Don't talk about jurisdiction or your limits. Don't talk about Lex just yet. "It was in the heat of the moment," I said with a nonchalant shrug. "I thought I would be doing more good than harm, but I know now that it was a mistake."

"Mistakes happen," Debbie said with a shrug.

I wanted to hug her for that. "Thank you. I never meant to bring a supervillain here."