Treason

I woke up to the sound of thunder rattling the tin roof of the warehouse we lived in, and I heard the faint sound of opera being played a few aisles over.

Pressing my palm to my temple, I jumped off my mattress to the concrete floor ten feet below and headed toward the music.

"Reverb," I said, "turn it down."

The preteen boy's brown face turned up to look at me in the dim light. "But, this is-"

I shook my head, my right hand still attached to it. "Don't. Just... just turn it down, alright?"

"Sorry, Charles," Reverb said, turning the dial on his outdated boombox to the left until the high-pitched singing was hardly audible.

"Thanks, man." I paused. "Why are you up?"

"Can't sleep when it's thundering outside," he claimed, flicking through last month's issue of National Geographic.

"Ah. Well, keep your crappy music down." I smiled at him.

"One day," he said as I walked away. "One day, you'll learn to appreciate good music."

I doubt it.

* * * * *

I wasn't able to sleep after I'd woken from that odd dream, so I stayed up and watched the rain from my place atop my mattress, thinking about my place in the world.

Okay, I'm totally joking. But, I really did think about how much these kids depended on me, Charles Watson, the one in charge of the Renegades.

I sighed.

My place in the lives of raggedy teenagers.

I took care of them. I made sure they had clothes, made sure they ate, made sure they had a place to stay.

But, why was I the leader of this ragtag group of adolescents?

I wasn't so sure.

I mean, I loved these kids like they were my own family, but I was only seventeen. I was just a kid myself.

I couldn't do this alone.

I couldn't face my brother, the Emperor, on my own.

He was too powerful, and I was too weak.

That's why my best friend, Kennedy, and I had assembled the most skilled teens across the country. We needed to bring the Emperor down.

And, I knew is only weakness.