“No,” Jeanne told him. She was pale enough to look really washed out, all dressed in black. Her hair was styled and perfect, her makeup done up nicely. It made me think of my mom’s efforts, in a way. But where my mom kept her hair short for strictly utilitarian reasons, Jeanne had hers long. My mom was a blade that she kept sharpened. Jeanne was… elegant. Regal, even in mourning. “I want to make sure my city’s okay, Kamil.”

I wondered if she actually cared. It was hard to picture, when she was as emotionally reserved as she was.

“Hey, your kid has a tummyache, F.Y.I. You know why, right?”

The sudden comment from Tattletale made my head spin for a second. Too much of a change from where we were.

I know. She and I talked about it this morning.

“Just making sure. You have to warn people. Case in point, check your feed. Look at what your kid is doing.”

I’d been keeping an eye on the situation. Rain was giving a rundown on the Fallen to the local capes, talking quiet while the standoff persisted between the two groups. Three groups, almost. The Shin capes didn’t mingle with the prison capes and Amy.

I switched, getting an uncomfortably close view of Chicken Little’s face. He leaned back and she leaned in. She was talking, “—and get your bird cameras going, for more targeted strikes. And there’s the topological stuff, in case the topology topples, and this city thing happens—”

I typed out a message to her as she went on. She didn’t seem to get it.

I looked up and over at Eric. “Can I call Kenzie? Strictly non-cape stuff.”

“You’d need to outline what you want from us.”

“Stopping a fight from breaking out between kids. Possibly a serious one.”

“Again, tell us what you want to communicate, and we’ll review it quickly.”

I clenched my fist. “I—”

“Red light, Lookout,” Tattletale barked, on the microphone. It was something that would be picked up by anyone watching any of the kids. I was safe to stop and listen.

“Huh?” Kenzie twisted around.

“Means freeze. Stop. Freeze.”

“Oh.” Kenzie stopped. Chicken Little backed off, and from the view of the other kids, I could see Kenzie deflate a bit. “Why?”

“Proxemics,” Tattletale said. “Personal space.”

“Tattletale’s got it,” I muttered.

“Good,” Eric said, sounding happy.

“I know what proxemics are. Is,” Kenzie replied, sounding as annoyed as I’d heard her.

“You’re bad at it. For right now, don’t get in so close to your buddies. Don’t get any closer than you’d need to to reach out and put your hand on their shoulder.”

“Was I making you uncomfortable?” Kenzie asked, looking at Chicken.

“A little.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Kenzie said.