“Congratulations, Mr. Bell. You’ve received the first detention of the year. And it’s only six minutes into second period. That must be some kind of record.”
“But I’m trying to work on my story! I’m having ideas. You can’t stifle my creativity!”
Mr. Hanson, who was seven hundred years old if he was a day, said, “That’s all well and good. Except this is trigonometry, and I distinctly remember you avoiding summer school by the skin of your teeth, so it would be in your best interest to pay attention.”
The class snickered around them as Nick sunk into his seat. He opened his mouth to invite Mr. Hanson to give examples of when something as ridiculous as trigonometry would ever be used in the real world, but he remembered the promise he’d made to his dad and decided against it. He was already going to get it if Dad found out about getting detention on the first day. Luckily for him, Dad was on shift tonight and would already be gone by the time Nick got home. He’d text him later to tell him he was hanging out with friends to cover his bases.
A couple of people seated next to him whispered back and forth while glancing at him, laughing quietly.
Nick flipped them off.
The girl gasped.
The guy glared at him.
Nick felt better.
Until he heard his phone vibrate in his backpack a moment later.
Most everyone had to turn their phones off completely during class. Nick was one of the few exceptions. After Mom had—after that—Nick had been prone to spiral rather quickly, thinking about all the things that could happen. She was supposed to have been safe; she was a lawyer for heaven’s sake. Sure, she dealt with some of the worst types of people, but she was always all right. She knew how to take care of herself. If anything, it was his father who put himself in harm’s way every day.
And so After—because there was an After just as sure as there was a Before—Nick couldn’t stop thinking about how dangerous Dad’s job was.
One day, sitting in freshman English, he’d spiraled. One moment his blood was rushing in his ears, and the next, he was lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, trying to remember how to breathe, thinking thoughts of what if what if what if. Because what if something happened to his dad? What if he never came home? Nick would be alone. There was no one else. Cousins, maybe, out west, but he’d never met them. Would he have to go with them? Who would take care of him if the what if became something real?
The haze of sheer panic hadn’t begun to clear until he’d heard a familiar voice at his ear, telling him to breathe, just breathe, that everything would be okay, Nicky, everything was going to be okay, breathe, breathe, breathe.
It was Seth, of course.
Somehow, he’d known.
Later, when his dad had come running into the school, a haunted look on his face that had yet to fade in the few short months since his wife’s death, it was decided that Nick would always have access to his phone, just in case. He’d have to keep it on vibrate so it wouldn’t disrupt the other students, and he couldn’t abuse it, but he could keep it switched on in the event of an emergency.
The memory of the day his father had come for him was sharper, now. Even though he knew Dad was at home asleep, his heart still managed to trip all over itself as he reached for his phone.
Making sure Hanson wasn’t watching, Nick set it on his leg and looked down.
OWEN, the screen read.
He turned to glare at Owen, sitting a few desks over.
Owen waggled his eyebrows right back in that devastatingly handsome way he did.
He thought about ignoring it. It would be the smart thing to do. And Nick was smart. At least four people thought so.
Owen nodded toward Nick’s phone.
Nick sighed.
He swiped open the text.
PAY ATTENTION.
He hated Owen Burke. Mostly.
Sometimes he liked him. He liked the way his skin tingled when Owen had kissed him, had liked the way Owen could make him laugh. He didn’t necessarily like Owen as a person, but that was because Owen was an ass who didn’t seem to care who he stepped on to get what he wanted.
Owen had girlfriends, pretty ones with manicured nails and extensions, and then, somehow, he had Nick one night while it was just the two of them eating bad tacos from a hole in the wall with the disturbing name of Gato Grande. Nick hadn’t known how he’d ended up alone with Owen, because he’d been positive Seth had been there too, and Owen had said Nick had salsa verde on his face. He’d reached out with his thumb to wipe it away, and then, for reasons Nick wasn’t quite sure of, they’d been kissing.
It was … nice? Sort of. Nick had never been kissed before and didn’t think his first time would be when he was still swallowing a mouthful of chorizo. His brain mostly shorted out, and when Owen pulled away, that devilish smile on his face, he’d felt himself blush furiously.
“So,” Owen said, and Nick had wondered how his jaw was so chiseled for someone barely a year older than himself.
“So,” Nick squeaked.
And so began the Great Romance of Nick and Owen.
Jazz had been confused. Gibby had been annoyed. Seth hadn’t liked any part of it, if the sour expressions on his face had meant anything.
Which was why when it ended a few months later, Nick hadn’t been that upset. It wasn’t as if they went on dates. Sometimes, they would go out as a group and Owen would put his arm around Nick’s shoulders, but that was usually as far as it went. A couple of times, Owen tried to take it further, but Nick remembered his father sitting in front of him with a condom in one hand, a banana in the other, and a gigantic bottle of lube on the table between them, and the idea of anything remotely sexual happening had gone right out the window.
He’d never forgiven Dad for that, especially since he’d made it clear he’d already known what condoms were. It didn’t help that he’d forever be haunted by the way Dad had accidentally used too much lube and the banana had squirted out of his hand and landed on the floor. The sound it made when it hit the ancient linoleum would be something he’d have to go to a support group for when he reached his midthirties.
The Great Romance of Nick and Owen came to an end as quickly as it started. (“You’re a great guy, Nicky, but I’m a wild animal who can’t be caged.” “Oh my god, you are not!”) Nick hadn’t been too upset by it because whatever else Owen had been to him, he was still a douchebag. Nick expected Owen to fade away back to where he’d come from, telling the other hot people that he’d bagged a Normie, but he’d stuck around.
The phone vibrated again.
SERIOUSLY. STOP LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE.
Nick struggled not to smile.
He scowled at Owen instead.
Owen was wearing red pants today (who did that?) and a loose white V-neck shirt that stretched down to the middle of his chest, revealing long miles of tan skin. His light hair was made up of angelic locks that Nick did not like to put his hands in, no matter what anyone said. He’d been vacationing somewhere exotic like Greece or Daytona on the family yacht. Before he’d left, he’d leaned over and kissed Nick on the cheek as he said goodbye. Nick had shoved him away. Seth had stared at both of them but said nothing.
STOP IT NICKY. YOU’RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE.
“Mr. Bell,” Hanson trilled from the front of the classroom. “Are we trying for two detentions on the first day?”
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“No,” Nick mumbled, sinking even lower.
He heard Owen laughing quietly.
God, he hated Owen Burke.
“Ihate Owen Burke,” he announced as he sat at the lunch table in the cafeteria. “In case you were all wondering.”
Gibby snorted. “I distinctly remember you sitting in that exact spot with his tongue down your throat at one point last spring.”
Seth started choking. Nick patted him on the back while wishing death upon Gibby. Regardless of what his report cards said, he was fine at multitasking.
“It looked very wet,” Jazz said, snapping the lid off her Tupperware to reveal a perfectly plated caprese salad with a small jar of olive oil and a twist of salt and pepper wrapped in parchment paper.
Nick thought he had bologna. He hadn’t checked when his father had handed him the brown bag, but it was most likely bologna. Which, to be fair, was better than the Pimiento Loaf Disaster of last April that had almost killed Nick, no matter how much Dad had thought he was overreacting.
“Not one of my best moments,” Nick admitted, pulling open his backpack until he found the wrinkled bag smooshed between two textbooks he needed after lunch. The chips were mostly powder now, but the sandwich wasn’t pimiento loaf, so life was pretty okay. “I got detention.”
“Already?” Seth sighed, pushing his glasses back up his face. “It’s only been half a day. What did Owen do to get you detention?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Nick said, biting savagely into his sandwich. “I was being creatively stifled by Hanson again. Why he needs to teach multiple grade levels is beyond me. I’ve decided he exists solely to make my life miserable. But if I think hard enough about it, I can figure out how to blame everything on Owen. Therefore, it’s Owen’s fault, and I hate him.”
“Nah,” Owen said as he appeared, sitting next to Gibby and across from Nick. “You like me.” He reached over and grabbed one of Seth’s carrot sticks. Seth didn’t stop him, but his scowl deepened.
“I do not,” Nick retorted. “You vex me. And I don’t like being vexed. If anything, I would rather be the opposite of vexed. Whatever that is.”
“Delighted,” Seth said.
“Yes, that. I would rather be delighted.”
Owen winked at him. “I delight you.”
“You don’t. You’re wearing a leather jacket in September. Nothing about you delights me. You—”
“Kensington, just who I wanted to see. You look good. You thought about my offer to take you out and show you a good time?”
The tables around them quieted.
Gibby started to get up, but Jazz reached over and touched the back of her hand. Gibby sat back down with a huff, turning to glare at the Heteroh-hell-no standing next to the table in a letterman jacket with a perfect smile on his face. Nick didn’t know his name off the top of his head, but it was most likely something douchebro like Derek or Westley. All the straight jocks looked exactly alike to Nick, and he didn’t care to try to differentiate between them.
“You should probably run,” Seth said to Derek or Westley as Jazz finished drizzling the olive oil over her caprese salad.
Derek or Westley narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Seth and dropped a hand on Jazz’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Oh, really? And why exactly would I do that, you weirdo?”
And oh, did that make Nick mad, but he knew better than to intervene. Jazz had this, even if Derek or Westley didn’t know it yet.
Jazz stood from the table slowly, running her hands down the front of her skirt, brushing away the wrinkles. She smiled up at Derek or Westley. He grinned cockily down at her. “Not that it’s not hot,” he said. “Two girls, or whatever, even if one of them is butch. I think you need to explore your options, you know?”
Nick really didn’t understand straight people. They didn’t seem to have any sense of self-preservation.
“Do you?” Jazz asked sweetly. Well, it sounded sweet, but Nick had seen one too many shows on Animal Planet about how lionesses hunt. And since lionesses hunted in groups, Derek or Westley was up to his neck in shit. “Maybe show me what I’m missing?”
He reached down and grabbed her hand. “It’d be my pleasure. And then if there’s time for it, it could be your pleasure too. I’m not selfish.”
“Oh, man,” Nick said. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Derek or Westley glanced at Nick, eyeing him as if he were some kind of bug. “What’d you say?”
It’d been a long time since he’d heard Jazz make a near-grown man scream. Usually, she’d let them off with a warning, but Derek or Westley was grosser than most, so when she turned her hand and snapped it around two of his fingers, twisting them viciously and bringing his arm behind his back, Nick couldn’t find it in himself to feel all that bad. He took another bite of his sandwich.
Derek or Westley cried out in pain as his head fell to the lunch table right next to Jazz’s caprese salad. Gibby pulled the Tupperware away, just to be safe.
“Thank you, baby,” Jazz said. “I appreciate that.”
“You asshole,” Derek or Westley managed to say. “Let me—ow, ow ow!”
“Now, here’s how this is going to go,” Jazz said, apparently able to ignore the fact that everyone in the cafeteria was staring at her. You didn’t mess with Jasmine Kensington, especially not during lunch. And if you did, you certainly didn’t insult her friends at the same time. “You’re going to apologize. And after you apologize, I will let you go. If any of that sounds too much for you, we’ll see how far your fingers can bend before they snap.”
“You can’t—”
“That wasn’t an apology,” she said, and Nick didn’t know it was possible for fingers to be facing the direction Derek or Westley’s were. He should have paid more attention during anatomy.
“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!”
“And you will never touch another person without their consent again.”
“I won’t.”
“Or call my friends any derogatory names. Because that’s rude.”
“So rude!” Derek or Westley cried.
“Good,” she said cheerfully. “If I find out that you do, we’ll have to see if you can live a normal life without your testicles. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” he groaned.
“How wonderful. You can leave now. I’m done with you.”
He groaned again as she let him go. She shoved him away from the table before sitting back down primly, spreading the cloth napkin—which had undoubtedly been packed by one of the maids in her parents’ employ—in her lap. She picked up her fork and was about to slice into a fat tomato, when she looked around the cafeteria. “You may continue eating.”
Everyone quickly turned away from her as Derek or Westley all but ran toward his friends, who would most likely talk about how evil the queer table was.
“That’s better,” Jazz said. “I don’t like it when people interrupt my lunch. I’m hungry, and I’m going to eat all of this.”
“I love you so much,” Gibby said, sounding awed.
“As do I,” Nick said, because it was true.
Seth nodded. “Me too.”
“Eh,” Owen said, “I could go either way—what the hell, Gibby? You didn’t have to kick me!”
“Wasn’t her,” Seth said. “And you were being stupid. Ergo, you deserved to be kicked. Repeatedly. In the face.”
Owen winced as he rubbed his shin. “You wound me, Seth.”
Seth smiled at him. “Do I? I feel just awful about it.”
“Oh, I bet you do.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure we will.”
“Are you guys flirting?” Nick asked, glancing between the two of them. Nick didn’t necessarily know how to flirt, or even really what it looked like. It had taken Owen kissing Nick for him to even understand that Owen might have liked him in the first place. He figured he’d have time to learn how to flirt at some point, but in the meantime, he couldn’t be sure what he was witnessing.
Seth gaped at him.
Owen scoffed. “He wishes.”
“I do not!”
“What would it matter to you if they were?” Gibby asked, a strange glint in her eye.
Nick … didn’t know how to answer that, not really. If he was going to say exactly what he was feeling at that moment, it probably would have come out as a strangled snarl, so he kept his mouth shut.
Jazz sighed. “You can lead a blind man to water, but you can’t make him fish.”
“That’s not even remotely how the saying goes,” Gibby told her.
“It’s not?” Jazz frowned. “Then how does it go?”
“I have no idea, babe. But that’s definitely not it.”
“Huh,” Jazz said. She ate another piece of perfectly sliced tomato.
“I hate you,” Nick said, finally remembering how to form words. “You are the absolute worst thing in the entire world.”
“Careful there, Nicky,” Owen said, leaning forward on his elbows. “I might get the idea you still have feelings for me.”
“He doesn’t,” Seth said.
Owen took another one of his carrots and bit into it with his perfect teeth, grinning at Seth. “That right?”
“I’ve decided we’re going to talk about something else,” Nick said, because he didn’t like the way Seth and Owen were staring at each other. If this wasn’t flirting (and Nick was pretty sure about that now—mostly), then it was something else, and he did not want this to turn into a repeat of last spring when things were awkward for everyone involved. The Great Romance of Nick and Owen hadn’t been the best of days. Sure, Owen could do this weird little twisty thing with his tongue, but Nick didn’t think that was the foundation for a long-lasting relationship. “I assume you’re all aware of the latest Shadow Star news.”
Everyone groaned.
Nick ignored them. He was used to it by now. “Once again, he defeated villains who attempted to commit crime in our fair city. I think we need to start another online petition for a solid gold statue to be erected in his honor.”
Gibby snorted. “Speaking of being erected in his honor—”
“Didn’t the last one only get seventeen signatures?” Jazz asked. “And yours were twelve of them, signing it with different names.”
“Right,” Nick said. “But that was before I ascended in popularity with Scorch the Earth. As of this morning, I have the most viewed story in the fandom. And since I’ll probably let the power of being popular in a fandom go to my head, that means I should be able to get what I want.”
“And you want to start another petition,” Owen said, sounding bored.
“Yes. And we could—wait a minute.” Hold the motherfreaking phone.
“Oh no,” Seth moaned. “That’s his realization face.”
“We should probably have more boundaries than we do,” Jazz said as she squinted at Nick.
What had Rebecca Firestone said this morning? Something about— “Burke Tower.”
That got their attention. “What about Burke Tower?” Gibby asked, glancing between Nick and Owen.
“It’s where the gunmen were going,” Nick said excitedly. “They were trying to break into Burke Tower. It was on the news this morning!”
“No, Nick,” Owen said. “It’s—”
Nick stared at Owen with wide eyes. “Owen Burke. Burke Tower. They were trying to break into your father’s building. And Shadow Star was there.”
“Absolutely not,” Owen said, shaking his head. “You leave me out of this. I have nothing to—”
“You have to get me the security tapes! So I can watch them over and over again for my own personal reasons that don’t involve anything weird.”
Seth put his face in his hands.
“You are weird,” Owen said. “And why do you think I would have access to the tapes?”
“Uh, because it’s your father.” What about this did he not understand? It seemed easy enough to Nick.
Owen snorted. “Right, because he listens to anything I say. I don’t even remember the last time I saw him.”
That caught Nick off guard. Owen Burke rarely let anything slip through the facade of douchedom that he’d perfected.
“Oh,” Nick said, suddenly uncomfortable with this tiny sign that Owen might be human after all. “That’s … too bad.” He wasn’t very adept when it came to comforting people he’d made out with. Or, at least, that appeared to be the case. He’d never made out with anyone else. He wondered if he needed to find someone else to make out with and then have them talk about their damaged relationship with their family to make sure.
“Gosh. Thanks, Nicky. Really.”
Nick tried to recover. “Didn’t you go yachting with him in Greece or Daytona?”
“Isn’t Daytona in Florida?” Jazz asked. “How exotic.”
“We were supposed to,” Owen said stiffly, picking at the peeling lunch table. “But he backed out at the last minute, so it was just my stepmom and her assistant who is also her boyfriend. And we weren’t in Greece or Daytona. It was the Bahamas.”
“Whoa,” Nick breathed. “Rich people problems.”
Owen shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t care.”
Nick didn’t think that was quite the truth, but he was nothing if not pragmatic. “Maybe this could be a bonding experience for you and your dad. You know, going over the tapes and then making copies for me. Then you can go outside and toss a football back and forth. Or something.”
“Not going to happen.”
Damn. He’d been so close. “Fine,” Nick said with a weary, put-upon sigh. “I guess I can accept that answer. Though, if you change your mind, I’ll support you completely.”
Owen cocked his head. “Why do you care so much?”
Nick felt the others staring at him. Nick didn’t like where this was going. “About?”
“Shadow Star. Pyro Storm. Extraordinaries.” He said the last word with a curl of derision. “It’s like you’re obsessed with them. They’re not that great.”
Oh, hell no.
“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Seth muttered.
“Not that great?” Nick said shrilly. “Are you out of your mind?”
Owen blinked. “They’re not—”
“Let me tell you something, Owen.”
“Uh, never mind. I take it back.”
“Nope,” Gibby said, grabbing Owen by the arm as he tried to get up. “You started this. You’re going to sit here and accept your punishment. Be thankful lunch is over in fifteen minutes.”
Nick was already revved up. “Extraordinaries are incredible. They can do things that us mere mortals can only dream about. They have secret identities and superpowers and look really good wearing costumes that would probably get a normal person cited for indecent exposure. And Shadow Star is the best one of them all. He fights for truth and justice and doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“Big whoop,” Owen muttered.
Nick was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t reach across the table and slap Owen upside the head was because he’d already gotten one detention and didn’t want to risk another. “You shut your whore mouth,” Nick snarled at him.
Owen reared back. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Seth said, smiling quietly. “He’s … exuberant.”
That was probably an understatement, especially since Nick was just getting started. “Not that cool? They can manipulate shadows and fire and pose on tops of buildings while the sun sets behind them!”
“He’s given this a lot of thought,” Gibby told Owen.
Nick nodded furiously. “I have. And Shadow Star is brave and gives ice cream to orphans and helps little old ladies with their shopping. He rescues puppies from puppy mills, and one time, he marched with Black Lives Matter because racists are stupid and he hates them so much.”
“Yikes,” Gibby said.
“I don’t know if he did any of that,” Seth said. “That might have been fanfiction, Nicky.”
“Whatever,” Nick said. “Even if he didn’t actually do any of that, I know he would, because that’s the type of person he is. He helps those who can’t help themselves. He keeps Nova City safe, and he is strong and neat, and if you ever say anything bad about him again, I’ll drop-kick you into the Westfield River, and I won’t feel bad about it at all.”
“Isn’t the Westfield River the one with all the sewage that smells like sadness?” Jazz asked.
“Yes,” Nick said fiercely. “I’ll do it. You just watch me.”
“Hmm,” Owen said, and Nick hated that sound.
“Hmm?” he demanded. “What’s this hmm?”
“Dunno.” Owen gave him a smug look. “Sounds like you have a bit of a crush on Shadow Star.”
Yes. Nick absolutely had the world’s biggest crush on Shadow Star. When he was by himself and no one could hear him, he would whisper “Mr. and Mr. Nicholas Shadow Star” into his pillow, but Nick had it under control. He did.
But when his crush was mentioned out loud?
Nick felt his face turning red, tongue thickening in his mouth. His first instinct was to deny, deny, deny, but that would be betraying everything Shadow Star stood for.
So instead, he managed to say, “Uh. Er. Glugh. Blargh.”
Seth stared at him with a strange look on his face.
Owen smiled the way he did when he was about to be a dick. “Eh. I suppose he’s all right. But if we’re going to talk about cool Extraordinaries, we should probably talk about Pyro Storm.”
Which … okay. That was fair. Even though Pyro Storm was technically a villain and caused mayhem and chaos with his dastardly deeds, he was still Shadow Star’s archnemesis, and had to be acknowledged. Plus, he had really muscular thighs, and often posed in ridiculous positions while cackling maniacally. Nick had to appreciate the thighs and the cackling. It seemed like a lot of work. Nick’s own thighs were sticklike, and when he tried to cackle, he sounded like a chicken watching the eggs it’d laid being turned into omelets.
“I’ll allow it,” Nick said begrudgingly. “Pyro Storm is cool, even if he’s a bad guy.”
Owen arched an eyebrow. “Why does anyone have to be bad? What if we’re all misunderstood?”
Nick glared at him. “You really can’t believe that. It’s black and white. There’s no in between. Good is good. Evil is evil. One is a jerk who burns things because he’s a pyromaniac or something. The other is a paragon of virtue who saves people and controls shadows and climbs walls.” That was Nick’s favorite part, and it should be everyone else’s.
“Pyro Storm does control fire,” Owen said. “And Shadow Star is all about the shadows. One is dark. The other burns it away. It’s poignant, if you think about it. Opposites.”
“You’re so dumb,” Seth muttered. “Life isn’t a comic book. Extraordinaries aren’t everything. So what if they can do things others can’t? That doesn’t make them more special than the rest of us. It doesn’t work like that.”
Owen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Then why don’t you tell us how it does work, Seth? Seeing as how you apparently know better than the rest of us.”
Nick didn’t quite know what was going on. Were they still flirting? God, he hoped not. “Maybe we should—”
Owen flashed that dangerous grin again, all teeth. “It seems our Seth here thinks all this Extraordinary stuff is dumb. How do you feel about that, Nicky?”
If there was one thing Nick hated aside from having to console someone whom he’d made out with or being faced with his crush on an Extraordinary, it was being put on the spot. His brain tended to misfire more often than it didn’t, and he was feeling a little dizzy. “Um. Well.”
Everyone waited.
Instant flop sweat. “You both made good points,” Nick said hastily. “And while I normally am so on board with picking sides, I don’t know that I can, at this moment in time, without more data.”
Seth stood abruptly, glaring at Owen, who smiled lazily up at him. “I have to go,” he said through gritted teeth.
And with that, he grabbed his backpack and headed toward the exit.
Nick stared after him, wondering what the hell had happened. Since when did Seth feel so strongly about Extraordinaries? Normally, he indulged Nick’s diatribes about them, but to get this upset? It wasn’t like him.
“Go after him,” Gibby snapped. “You can’t let him walk away like that.”
Owen snorted. “He’s throwing one of his fits. Let him be. He’ll get over it. He always does.”
“Do you remember that time about ten minutes ago when I nearly broke that jock’s fingers?” Jazz asked him sweetly. “I can show you what would have happened if he hadn’t apologized, if you want.”
Owen paled.
“Go,” Gibby said to Nick, jerking her head in the direction Seth had gone.
“Going,” Nick said. He shouldered his backpack as he stood, glancing down at the others.
Owen winked at him.
Nick flipped him off before following his best friend out of the cafeteria.