Even though Nick had the support of his closest friends and an operation planned (at least in name only), it wasn’t until the weekend that he was able to get things going. Not because he didn’t want to start sooner (oh lord, did he) but because apparently junior year meant the teachers decided there should be at least forty-six hours of homework every night. Nick often wondered what happened in their childhoods to make them want to grow up and make his life miserable.
Not only did they ask for essays and warn of evils-to-come such as pop quizzes, they were also telling the students they needed to start thinking of their futures. Nick didn’t know how to explain that he was trying to do just that, but they were getting in his way. Sure, they were talking about things like colleges and vocational schools, and Nick was more focused on being able to conduct electricity through his fingertips, but still. It was easier to think about being an Extraordinary than it was to think about getting older.
Then Dad had a rare Saturday off, so they’d gotten pizza from Tony’s for an early lunch, sitting outside on the ancient tables, watching people go by, making up stories about who they were and where they were coming from and where they were going. It was something they’d done since Nick could remember. And Before, Mom had laughed and laughed at some of the stuff they’d come up with. She’d said they were the most creative people she’d ever known, and that she thought Nick would grow up to be an author one day.
It’d taken time After to—it hadn’t been easy. Nick had been confused and angry and scared, and Dad had been hollow-eyed and barely speaking. There were times Nick hadn’t seen him for days, their schedules so opposite, it was like they were merely roommates, and there’d been a moment when he’d been unable to sleep, his thoughts racing, thinking that he hated his father. He’d hated him for not protecting Mom even though he’d been nowhere near the bank when it’d happened, hated him for leaving Nick alone when he needed him the most. Hated him for not being strong enough. Hated him for saying, no, Nicky, no you can’t see her, kid, you can’t, it’s better off you remember her as she was. Then she came home in an urn, nothing but a pile of ashes that Nick couldn’t believe had once been his mother. They’d spread the ashes near the lighthouse, neither of them speaking.
It had gotten better, albeit slowly. Nick knew Cap had something to do with it, because suddenly Dad was home all the time, saying with an awkward shrug that it was a forced vacation. It’d lasted a few months, and they’d had to learn how to be the two of them in the same space where there’d once been three.
Things were better now, leading to days like today when it was just the two of them. They got back to the house, leftover pizza in a cardboard box. And there, sitting on the front steps of their old row house, was Nova City’s chief of police himself.
“Huh,” Dad said, glancing down at his watch. “He’s early.”
Nick was suddenly nervous. The last time Cap had been here had been right before the forced vacation, and though Nick had been upstairs, he’d kept his ear to the floor, hearing words like I don’t have a choice here, Aaron, and you were out of line and you punched a witness, for Christ’s sake and you’re lucky you’re not getting fired. It’s a demotion. Beat cop. I went to the mat for you, Aaron. I can’t keep you in Homicide. You’re a good cop. But you went too far here.You need to think of Nick. Take the offer. It’s better than having nothing at all. It’s either this or you look for a job in private security.
Yeah. So the last time Cap had been here hadn’t been the best.
Which was probably why Nick started breathing heavily, his forehead sweating.
“Nicky?” he heard his dad ask, concern in his voice.
Nick swallowed thickly, his fingers twitching at his side, always moving. “Is he—is he here to—”
To give bad news, he was trying to say, but couldn’t get the words out.
Dad was in front of him, balancing the pizza box in one hand, and his other on the back of Nick’s neck. “What are you—oh. Oh. No. No, Nick. He’s here to have a beer and watch the baseball game. I know your friends are coming over, or I would have invited you to watch with us.”
Nick nodded, trying to work his muscles loose. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Dad shook him gently. “Nah. That’s just it. You were thinking. And that’s okay. It’s my fault. Completely slipped my mind that he was coming. I should have told you. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Nick winced. “You don’t need to apologize.”
Dad sighed. “Yeah. I think I do. I know you’re trying, kid. I see that, and I appreciate it. And I need you to know that I’m trying too, okay? My fault. Won’t happen again.”
Nick felt weird, off-kilter. “I’m not fragile.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “I know. I figured that out the first time I dropped you on your head and it made a little dent. You didn’t even cry.”
Nick glared up at him. “What do you mean, the first time? There was more than once?”
“Being a parent is hard. Kids are slippery.”
“Baseball is stupid.”
“You were adopted. Didn’t even cost anything. You were in a box filled with free kittens outside of a bodega. We almost went with the calico.”
“You’re not funny,” Nick mumbled, though that was probably a good idea for an origin story. He could be Calico Man … or something. “I don’t know why you insist on thinking you have a sense of humor. Oh, hey. Idea. I’ll watch the baseball game with you and Cap, and you won’t complain if I have a beer.”
“Sure.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“No.”
“But you—oh my god. Okay, what if I had just a sip?”
Dad sized him up. “You’d have to stay for all nine innings. Longer, if it goes into overtime.”
Nick threw his hands up. “Nothing’s worth that. I refuse. Baseball sucks.”
“You really don’t know how to negotiate, do you?”
“I haven’t had to learn, because you usually give me everything—I mean, no, Father, whatever are you talking about?”
“Uh-huh. I’m on to you, kid.”
“As you should be,” Cap said, groaning as he rose to his feet. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s either going to do great things or turn to a life of petty crime. Jury’s still out.”
“Most likely petty crime,” Nick told him. “Because then I’d get to see your pretty face every day.”
Cap reached out with a big hand and ruffled Nick’s hair. Nick scowled.
Cap grinned at him, his mustache looking as if his lips were spreading wings. Nick hoped one day he would be capable of epic facial hair. He’d tried to grow a beard over the summer, but he’d somehow only gotten one weird, gnarly hair coming out of his chin. He thought about keeping it but realized it probably wouldn’t do if he ever met Shadow Star.
Good thing, then, since the alley rescue happened. Shadow Star probably wouldn’t have posed for a picture if he’d had that chin hair.
Dad shook Cap’s hand. “Come on in. Sorry we made you wait.”
“No big deal,” Cap said, grunting as he climbed the remaining steps. “I was early. Missus made me walk. Doctor’s talking her ear off about controlling cholesterol levels, which means that I have to choke down whatever nasty concoction she found on the internet.” He glanced back at Nick. “You don’t know any vegans, do you, Nicky?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Keep it that way. They can’t be trusted. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right? A beer sounds good right about now.”
“She already called me,” Dad said from the kitchen. “I picked up low-calorie beer for you.”
“That woman,” Cap muttered. “Meddles in everything. Still gay, Nicky?”
“Yeah. They say I’ll never be rid of it. Apparently, my body is riddled with homo—”
Cap waved a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you. You’re lucky. You can get yourself a man and not have to deal with all this nonsense.”
Nick frowned. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Maybe I’ll give it a go,” Cap said, rubbing his mustache. “My secretary says your dad is dreamy, whatever that means. Think I got a shot?”
Nick stared at him in horror. “Why would you say that?”
“So I could see the look on your face,” Cap said, shaking his head. “Oh, Nicky, don’t ever change.”
Dad came out of the kitchen, two beers in hand. He paused in the entryway to the den, eyes narrowing. “Do I even want to know?”
“Having some guy talk,” Cap said, patting Nick on the back. “Ain’t that right?”
“You can’t marry Cap,” Nick said to his dad. “Not only is that a conflict of interest for your job, it’s gross. He can’t be my stepdad!”
Cap laughed, bending over and slapping his knee.
Dad gaped.
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Nick shouted, hurrying toward the door where hopefully his salvation awaited. He didn’t want to see Dad and Cap cuddling on the couch.
Seth was standing on the tiny porch, shuffling from side to side. He wore khakis and a wool pullover that looked really soft.
“Why do you still ring the doorbell? You’re here almost as much as I am.”
“It’s polite,” Seth muttered, shoving his way past Nick into the house. “Just because you tromp into my house—”
“Excuse you, I don’t tromp. I don’t even know what that is!”
“—doesn’t mean I do the same. My aunt says hi, by the way. She wants me to remind you that she needs you to come over and eat all her cookies so she can make more.”
Nick closed the door behind them. “Why don’t you eat them?” He’d seen Seth polish off an entire batch of peanut butter cookies in one sitting. Granted, that had been a few years ago, but still. It was impressive. The peanut butter farts later that night hadn’t been as impressive. Nick had almost died.
“I don’t eat much of that stuff anymore,” Seth said.
“Oh. Why?”
“Don’t want to.”
“Huh.” Nick eyed him up and down. He still looked like Seth. Yeah, he was taller, and maybe his face was thinner than it’d been before, but— “There’s pizza, if you want it. Leftovers. Dad and me went to Tony’s.”
“Nah,” Seth said. “I had boiled chicken and spinach for lunch.”
Nick made a face. “That sounds terrible. And speaking of terrible, Cap is here, and I think he’s going gay for my dad.”
“I don’t … what does that even mean?”
“Right? I have no idea! But they’re on a date, and—”
Seth glanced toward the living room. “Isn’t Cap married?”
“Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a side piece.”
Seth’s head snapped back toward Nick. “You just called your dad a side piece.”
Nick felt the blood leave his face. “Oh my god.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know!”
“Ugh,” Seth said, face in his hands like he couldn’t get the image out of his head. “Ick. Gross. No. No.”
“Are you two done?” Dad called from the living room. “It’s funny how you think we can’t hear every single word you’re saying.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “Glad to know you think eavesdropping is okay. Rude.”
“I’m a cop, kid. I see and hear everything.”
“And I’m a law-abiding citizen. I know my rights. You need to have probable cause to do—”
“He’s going to make a good cop,” Cap told Dad. Then, “Except maybe we won’t give him a gun.”
“He’s not even allowed to have a Taser,” Dad muttered.
“Whatever,” Nick said. “I don’t want to interrupt your weird man date. We’re going upstairs. Seth, come on.” He was halfway up the stairs with Seth trailing after him when his dad called his name. He peered over the banister.
Dad was looking up at him, head resting on the back of the couch. He seemed loose and relaxed, and it made Nick happy for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. But then he said something so confounding, Nick didn’t know what to do with it. “Keep the door open, okay?”
“Uh. Okay? Why? It’s Seth.”
“Nick.”
“Oh my god, fine. Then you should keep your door open because it’s Cap and … okay, that doesn’t totally make sense since you’re in the living room, but the point remains the same.”
“Regret saying that yet?” Dad asked Cap.
“Not even a little,” Cap said, grimacing after sipping his beer.
“Have fun with your boring sport that takes forever for anything to actually happen!” Nick hollered as he made his way to the second floor.
“They all wear tight pants,” Dad called after him. “Seems like it’d be right up your alley.”
Nick tripped on the stairs. “Ow, you son of a— We just had a discussion about how you’re not supposed to try and have a sense of humor!”
“I made you, didn’t I?”
“Whatever,” Nick grumbled, rubbing his shin. He glanced back at Seth. “You coming?”
Seth was flushed, but then, their air conditioning was on the fritz again, so Nick didn’t question it as Seth stared up at him. “Are you actually going to reach the top of the stairs anytime soon?”
Nick scoffed. “I don’t know why people think you’re not sarcastic. It’s all I hear from you. It’s like you’re two separate people sometimes.”
“You have no idea.”
Nick threw open the door to his room and dramatically collapsed on the bed, giving his shin time to heal. He didn’t think it was broken, but it was probably a close thing. He needed to stay off his feet if he was going to go through with becoming an Extraordinary. He had to be in tip-top shape to pull this off.
“What is that?” Seth asked, eyes wide.
“What?” Nick looked to where he was pointing. “Oh, that’s my idea board. I read on Cosmo that having an idea board helps to make planning easier.”
“Why were you reading articles on Cosmo?”
“I don’t even know. One moment, I was reading about diamond mines in Latin America, and the next, I’m following step-by-step instructions on making an idea board on Cosmo.”
“I don’t think you know how you get to some of the places you do.”
Nick shrugged. “That’s pretty much the story of my life. You sound like you’re judging me. And Cosmo said that people who judge my idea board aren’t going to be supportive in the long run. Also, I took a quiz on BuzzFeed, and apparently, my ideal sandwich has Manchego on it and I should be an airline pilot. I don’t even know what Manchego is, and I don’t know if I want it on my sandwich. And planes have too many buttons that I’d have to press.”
“It’s a Spanish cheese made from sheep’s milk,” Seth said, studying Nick’s idea board.
Nick frowned. “I don’t know if I want to eat cheese made from sheep. And I feel like we need to talk about dairy in general. Who was the first guy that decided to squeeze the thing hanging off an animal and drink whatever came out? Because you know it was a guy. A woman would never be that dumb. Do you think he was dared to do it by his caveman friends? Like, they started with cattle and then worked their way to a saber-toothed—”
“Nick.”
“Right,” Nick said, relieved. “I don’t know how much longer I would have gone with that.” He pushed himself up from the bed, testing his weight on his grotesquely injured leg. It barely caused a twinge. Maybe his power could be super healing. “It’s pretty amazing, right? If Cosmo has proven anything, it’s that I have the best ideas to put on idea boards.”
And he did. Nick could humbly admit that his idea board was a thing of beauty. It was a corkboard that used to hold up pictures and articles of Shadow Star that he’d kept hidden in his closet and absolutely did not pull out when no one was home and sigh dreamily at it.
(It was. It was that same board. He’d taken down the Shadow Star stuff and placed it in a shoebox on a shelf, next to the autograph.)
Now, there was a sheet of paper at the top of the board emblazoned with: OPERATION TURN NICK INTO AN EXTRAORDINARY AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER WITH SHADOW STAR IN A VILLA OFF THE COAST OF ITALY WHERE WE FEED EACH OTHER GRAPES BY HAND. The font was small because that was a lot of words.
Underneath, there were printouts of all the world’s greatest superheroes. Spider-Man. Superman. Batman. Wolverine. The Hulk. Wonder Woman. Shadow Star. Psylocke. Captain America. Midnighter. Batwoman. Flash. Rorschach. Northstar. Krypto, though he was a dog, and by that point, Nick had been printing off everything just because he could.
“What do all of these beings have in common?” Nick asked.
Seth waved a hand at the board. “Aside from Shadow Star, they’re all fictional?”
“What? No, that’s not—well, yeah, that’s true, but that’s not—ugh. Why do you have to be so literal all the time?”
“I’m literally telling you what I see.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “That’s because you have no imagination. You’re lucky you have me.”
“I know,” Seth said, and he was so earnest about it, Nick’s palms got a little sweaty. “But maybe tell me why.”
“Because I can see things that others can’t. Like big-picture stuff.” Nick looked at his creation. “It’s not only fictional characters, though. See?” He went to the board, pointing at different pictures he’d printed off. “Primate Girl. The American Patriot, though he was a dick. The White Rhino because that dude could destroy anything he charged at. Guardian, because they’re mysterious and cool. The Galavanter, though she was pretty much like a kid’s birthday party clown who could expel helium from her lungs, but who I am to judge?” He frowned. “Okay, maybe I went a little overboard with it. But you know that’s how my brain works. I can be a little crazy, sometimes.”
Seth scowled at him. “I don’t like it when you say that. You’re not crazy. You’re fine the way you are.”
His mom had told him the same thing. And now that she was gone, it was Seth who understood him more than anyone else in the world, had seen through the tornado of words that was Nick Bell, even when they were just kids. Yeah, other kids had given Nick crap for being all over the place, but Seth had been overweight and gotten it almost as bad. Nick was too young then to understand the idea of cruelty, but he knew people could be mean, even if they couldn’t really explain why they were doing so.
It’d gotten easier when Gibby came along. And the other kids had grown up too; what had once been bullying became indifference, and Nick and his friends essentially faded into the background. They still got shit every now and then, but if Nick had his way, they wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that again. No one would mess with them if he was an Extraordinary.
“Maybe that’s my superpower,” Nick said, trying to dispel the annoyance on Seth’s face. “Maybe because my brain is wired different, it’ll lead to ESP or the ability to explode things with my mind. I’m probably already at the next stage of human evolution, which means that I’m better than almost everyone else.”
The look on Seth’s face faded, though not as much as Nick would have liked. “You are better than everyone else.”
Nick’s hands were really clammy today. He wiped them on his jeans. “I’m glad you see that. It makes our friendship easier when you can recognize how awesome I am.”
Nick was almost proud of how quickly things became awkward. He didn’t think it’d ever happened this fast before.
He coughed and waved at the board. “So, ideas!”
Seth looked back at Nick’s creation. “You don’t have Pyro Storm up there.”
“Well, yeah. He’s not a hero. He’s a villain. I don’t want to become a villain. I don’t know how to laugh maniacally or do something nefarious. I’m far too pure. The only reason I have someone like the American Patriot up there is to remind me of how not to be.”
“But you always talk about how muscular Pyro Storm is.”
Nick was scandalized. “I do not.”
“Uh, you realize I beta read for you, right? You talk about his thighs all the time.”
“That’s because his costume accentuates his assets,” Nick said, moving until he stood next to Seth in front of the board. “But you can look nice and still be a douchebag. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“Like Owen.”
“Exactly.”
“But you still—”
Nick slapped a hand over Seth’s mouth. “We shouldn’t talk about it if we don’t have to. Consider it a lapse in judgment that’ll never happen again.”
Seth arched an eyebrow at him.
And since Nick was fluent in Seth eyebrow-speak, he said, “I’m serious. Never again. I don’t care how good he looks in those red pants he owns. Been there, done that.”
Seth shoved Nick’s hand away. “Those pants aren’t that great.”
“Yeah, try saying that again when you’re staring at him from behind—why are we even talking about this?”
Seth scowled at him. “Because he flirts with you all the time, and sometimes you look at him like you don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him.”
“Again, not mutually exclusive. But he broke up with me, remember? And it wasn’t like we were ever really dating to begin with. We were … I don’t know. Make-out buddies, or whatever.” Nick winced. “Wow. That makes me sound easy.”
“I know. We were all there to witness it.”
Nick shoved Seth. “Don’t be weird. Just because you haven’t kissed anyone—”
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
“—doesn’t mean you get … to … tell—wait, what?”
“What makes you think I haven’t kissed anyone?” Seth repeated.
Call it, Doctor. Time of death: 1:37 in the afternoon. Cause? Seth Gray. A strange, twisted knot in Nick’s chest began to tighten, his hands still sweaty. Rationally, Nick knew that it was possible that Seth could have someone who wanted to kiss him. And if he really thought about it, of course people should want to kiss Seth. He was funny and smart, and when he smiled, it was like literal sunshine. He could recite pi to the 126th digit, owned a bonsai tree that he’d managed to keep alive for seven years, once climbed a fire escape to rescue a trapped cat near the park, and when Nick was sick with the flu a few years back, Seth had brought him his homework, medicine, and the latest issues of Marvel’s attempt at an event series that was supposed to change the face of the world but in actuality had made Captain America look like a Hydra agent, which made Nick’s illness worse until he was convinced he was going to die.
Add in the fact that Seth wore bow ties and ascots, so yes, someone would want to kiss him.
In fact, who wouldn’t?
Well shit. What the hell was he supposed to say now? He went with the first thing that popped into his head. “Oh. That’s … nice.”
Seth shrugged as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him. “I suppose.”
“So … nice.”
Seth squinted at him. “You okay?”
Nick nodded furiously. “Fine. Great. Wonderful.”
“Good. So, idea board?”
Focus. Focus. Don’t think about Seth’s— “Um. Right. So. Idea board. I’ll … talk about it. Because that’s the thing to do. Right now. With you. And I—okay, I can’t do this. Who did you kiss?”
Seth patted Nick’s arm. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
That terrible thought struck Nick once again. “Do you have a secret girlfriend and/or boyfriend?”
“No, Nicky. I don’t have a secret girlfriend and/or boyfriend. I already told you that.”
Nick stepped closer, staring at his friend. He leaned forward until their faces were inches apart. Seth’s breath smelled like toothpaste. Nick’s probably smelled like pepperoni, which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best thing to be breathing on someone, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now.
Seth didn’t move away. His eyes widened a little. He licked his lips. He had nice lips. Really nice. Nick didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed that before.
Nick whispered, “Then who did you—”
“Your dad told me the door needed to be kept open,” Gibby said from behind them. “I laughed at him, but now I see why.”
Nick screamed as he jumped, almost falling to the floor.
“I didn’t know his voice could go that high,” Jazz said, looking over Gibby’s shoulder. “He could be a diva. Or make a living doing impressions of a cat getting strangled.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“Anything is a thing if you want it to be,” Jazz said, pushing past her girlfriend and into Nick’s room. “My grandma told me that. And she married into nineteen million dollars, outlived her husband who cheated on her with a badminton instructor named Edward, and then turned it into thirty million.”
Gibby sighed. “I’ll never understand that kind of money.”
“Neither does she,” Jazz said. “Which is why she’s given half of it away to save the whales. She really does like the whales.”
“Speaking of whales,” Gibby said, eyeing Seth and Nick deviously. “Moby-Dick and all that.”
Nick blinked. “What are you talking about? That book was terrible. I’ve never read it, but I did see the Chris Hemsworth movie that was based on it, and even he couldn’t make me care.”
“Seth?” Gibby asked sweetly. Well, sweetly for her, which meant it wasn’t that sweet.
“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.”
Nick didn’t know what Gibby was doing now, but it was distracting, and he couldn’t have that. “Did you bring me what I asked you for?”
Jazz sat on the edge of Nick’s bed, putting her Coach purse on her lap. “Well, here’s the thing. I found one in the backyard shed where the landscapers keep the tools. I got dirt on my forehead. It was wonderful. I felt like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. And in the back, I saw a gigantic web. Like, the biggest I’d ever seen.”
Nick shuddered at the thought.
“Ah,” Jazz said, watching him. “Now I know why you couldn’t get one by yourself. I didn’t know you were scared of spiders.”
“I’m not scared of them,” Nick retorted. “I would just rather they didn’t exist near me at any point in my life.”
“Spiders are good for the ecosystem,” she said, and Nick wondered why anyone would think she wasn’t smart. “They eat the bad bugs.” She reached a hand into her purse.
“I’m with Nick on this one,” Gibby said, taking a step back. “I don’t want that thing near me.”
“Why did you have Jazz bring you a spider?” Seth asked.
“Because I need it,” Nick replied. “It’s Phase One of Operation Turn Nick into an Extraordinary and—”
“You really need to come up with a better name,” Gibby muttered, studying the idea board. “And would you look at that. Shadow Star’s picture, front and center. How interesting. Wouldn’t you say that’s interesting, Seth? Shadow Star, being front and center?”
Seth glared at her. “I have no opinion about it one way or another.”
Gibby snorted. “Are you sure about that? Because if I were you, I’d—”
Jazz pulled a specimen jar out of her purse. “Okay, but you all rudely interrupted my story and didn’t let me finish. That’s not nice. There was the gigantic spiderweb, but—”
“Got it!” Nick crowed, snatching the plastic jar out of Jazz’s hand. The thing inside that was most certainly not a spider scrabbled along the side of the jar, and Nick almost shrieked and threw it across the room. Somehow, he was able to call upon all his bravery at once and resisted. Instead, he set it down on his desk next to the idea board and backed away slowly.
“What is that?” he asked, and his voice wasn’t high-pitched, no matter what anyone might say otherwise.
“If I can finish, maybe you’ll find out,” Jazz said, mouth twisted down. “As I was saying, I didn’t see a spider, but I did see something else. It was caught in the web, and it was struggling. I felt really bad about it, so I saved it from the web like Indy saved himself from having his heart ripped out of his chest.” She frowned. “Can you believe that movie is only rated PG?”
“That’s because other than R, another rating didn’t exist,” Seth said. “That movie was partly the reason they came up with—”
“What is it?” Nick said, shoving Gibby toward the jar. “I think it hissed at me.”
Gibby glared at him before taking a step toward his desk. “It’s … It’s a … It’s a…”
“Cricket,” Jazz said. “Obviously. What are you going to do with it?” She had a tiny compact mirror out and was puckering her lips at her reflection.
Nick stared at her. “You brought me a cricket.”
She closed the compact. “At great risk to my life. I don’t think you sound very grateful.”
Nick remembered the way the jock’s fingers had bent awkwardly and said, “No, no. I am. I don’t know if it’ll work with a cricket. I don’t even know what a cricket does.”
“We don’t even know what you’re trying to do,” Seth pointed out.
Ah! Nick’s moment to shine! “Spider-Man was bitten by a radioactive spider, right?” he said excitedly. He couldn’t wait for the forthcoming praise to be lavished upon him. “As shown by the fact that they’ve rebooted the movies four hundred times—he’s in Oscorp and breaks off from the convenient tour group and gets bitten on the hand by a spider that’s a part of unsanctioned experiments. Which, if you think about it, potentially opens up the multibillion-dollar company to a lawsuit in addition to turning Peter Parker into a superhero, but I digress. Also, I feel bad for Andrew Garfield. He was a good Spider-Man trapped in terrible movies. Sure, the new guy is good, but poor Andrew. His hair is so curly.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Seth muttered.
“No, because you’re going to love it. Now, I don’t have access to radioactive isotopes. I don’t even know where you can get them. I tried looking online, but apparently you can’t just buy them whenever you want. I should mention that I’ve probably been flagged for that search by the CIA or the NSA, but we’ll worry about that later.”
“I can’t wait,” Gibby said dryly. “The idea of you having anything radioactive should be reason enough for its limited access.”
Nick ignored her. “So, I thought, what can I possibly do to get myself a radioactive spider? Then I figured it out.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I’ll nuke it in the microwave.”
He waited for thunderous applause.
He got thunderous silence.
Maybe they hadn’t understood. “The spider. It’ll go into the microwave. For science.”
“What,” Gibby said flatly.
“Microwaves use RF radiation,” Nick explained patiently. “And that’s a form of electromagnetic radiation. Which is radiation. Right? And so when the spider is exposed to the radiation, it will become radioactive and bite me, and I will become a Spider-Man rip-off. And I promise up front I’ll avoid the weird emo-dancing Tobey Maguire tragedy that made no sense. I don’t even know how to dance, so we should be good there.”
More silence.
He understood that it was complex. People had a hard time understanding the way his brain worked. Most days, he was on a completely different level, though he tried not to think that way too much because that made him sound like a conceited dick, and he really wasn’t.
So he gave them time to process, because he was a good friend.
Jazz spoke first. “Okay. I can see it. Problem. It’s not a spider. It’s a cricket.”
Nick tried not to glare at her. “And whose fault is that?”
She shrugged. “Maybe next time say thank you when someone gives you something.”
“Thank you for not getting me what I asked for.”
“You’re welcome. So, you won’t be Spider-Man. You’ll be Cricket-Man. And your superpower will be rubbing your legs together to make noise late at night when everyone is trying to sleep to remind them you exist and are very annoying.”
“Yes,” Gibby breathed. “Yes to this. Yes to all of it. Oh my god, yes. This is so stupid. I can’t wait. White people are freaky.”
Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. One part of the article on idea boards told him that people might not initially grasp the concept, and that he needed to be patient. Great ideas were often born of frustration, which was a feeling he knew well. When he’d calmed himself down with a breathing exercise he’d also found on Cosmo (in addition to finding out sixteen ways to please a man that involved things he was not prepared to read), he opened his eyes. “I appreciate your support,” he said evenly. “Does anyone else know what crickets are good for?”
“They eat plants and sometimes meat,” Gibby said, though it sounded like she was struggling not to laugh. “And that chirping sound is used to scare away other males, and to find a mate.” She grinned smugly at Seth. “I wonder what would happen if Nick chirped with his legs.”
“This is the dumbest conversation we’ve ever had,” Seth muttered.
“They can jump really high,” Nick said, trying to find a way to salvage this debacle. “So, my superpower could be that I jump over things.” It wasn’t ideal, but he could work with that. Leap tall buildings in a single bound? Completely original.
“And your chirping could be a supersonic sound wave that knocks people through walls,” Jazz said, eyes wide. “Once you landed from jumping really high, you could lie down in front of the bad guys and rub your legs at them.”
Gibby cackled, her arms clutched around her middle.
“Okay,” Nick said, pushing through his annoyance. “This isn’t so bad. Mostly. Next step. I would be Cricket-Man. And since I’ll be shipped with Shadow Star, we need to discuss our ship name.” That was the part he cared about the most.
“CricketStar,” Gibby wheezed, bending over.
“ShadowCricket,” Nick decided, because Gibby was the worst. “It’s … okay. I mean, sure, it could be better, but still. It sounds like—Gibby, I swear to god if you don’t stop laughing, I probably won’t do anything about it, but I could.”
Gibby continued to laugh, because everyone knew Nick’s threats were empty, no matter how much he bared his teeth.
“So, let me get this straight,” Seth said. “You want to take this cricket and put it into the microwave. You want to nuke the cricket and then have it bite you.”
“Yes,” Nick said, grateful he had a best friend like Seth who understood him. “That’s exactly what I want to do. Thank you, Seth, for being the way you are. It’s truly—”
Seth sighed. “Nicky, I don’t know why I need to explain to you how many things are wrong with that.”
Nick frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“First, crickets don’t bite people.”
“Wrong,” Jazz said, looking down at her phone. “According to this website on crickets called CricketsAreCool.com, it’s rare, but they do.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though apparently they carry a significant number of diseases. But it’s okay! None of them are fatal to humans. If anything, maybe that will be a part of your superpowers. In addition to shock-wave legs, you’ll be able to make people moderately ill.”
Gibby lay on the bed, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth.
“Second,” Seth said through gritted teeth, “if you put a bug in the microwave, it’ll die.”
“Not if I only make it for five seconds or so,” Nick said. “I think.”
“Third, isn’t torturing animals the first sign of becoming a serial killer?”
That gave Nick pause. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But it’s a bug that scares me, so therefore, it’s inherently evil. I don’t think crickets qualify as animals because they don’t have souls or feelings. Like, you hear about dog ghosts and tiger ghosts, but you never hear about bug ghosts, right? Also, to become a serial killer, I think you have to wet the bed with alarming frequency and have had a head injury at some point in your life.”
“You wet the bed at my house when you were seven and tried to tell me you got juice in the middle of the night and accidentally spilled it on the bed.”
That set Gibby off all over again as Nick stared at Seth in horror. “You monster! And it was juice!”
“Juice that smelled like urine,” Seth retorted.
“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t believe me?” Nick demanded. “All these years, I thought I’d gotten away with it. What other secrets are you keeping from me?” He pointed at Seth, finger trembling. “Does this have to do with your secret girlfriend and/or boyfriend? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
That made Gibby stop laughing. She immediately sat up just as Jazz’s mouth dropped open. “Your secret what?”
Seth crossed his arms. “I don’t have—it’s not like that. I don’t—ugh.”
“We were talking about kissing,” Nick said.
“You were?” Jazz asked. “Oh my god, finally. Tell me everything.”
Nick blinked. “Wait, what? I told him I’d kissed Owen, and then he said he’d kissed someone, but wouldn’t tell me who.”
“Oh,” Jazz said, shoulders drooping. “That’s … not what I thought this was going to be about. How disappointing.”
“Who did you kiss?” Gibby asked Seth. “And also, followup: What other secrets do you have that you’re not telling us about? Maybe something you’ve kept hidden in the—”
“Will you excuse us for a second?” Seth asked, and before Nick could stop him, he’d grabbed Gibby by the arm and pulled her from the room.
“Strange,” Jazz said in the silence that followed. “I wonder what that’s about.”
“You really don’t know about Seth kissing anyone?” Nick asked, glaring at the empty doorway.
“Would it matter if I did? He can do what he wants. Why do you care so much?”
“We tell each other everything.”
She fanned out her fingers in front of her, checking her red polish. “Really? That’s the only reason?”
Nick looked at her blankly. “What other reason is there?”
She sighed as she dropped her hand. “I thank my lucky stars every day I’m not a man. So much bluster for nothing.”
“We can be pretty stupid,” Nick agreed. “But I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I worked really hard to get that cricket.”
He glanced at the jar. The cricket was hopping up and down. He felt bad. “I know.”
“And now you want to put it in the microwave.”
“That’s the plan.”
“I don’t want you to be a serial killer. Torturing animals and wetting the bed. A decade from now, I’ll be interviewed for some news show, and I’ll cry on camera and everything when I have to say no one saw it coming. Why would you do that to me, Nicky? Do you want to see my makeup ruined on national television from your maximum-security jail cell?”
Damn her. She knew exactly what to say to get through to him. He didn’t know why he was so surprised, but maybe that was part of it: Jasmine Kensington—perhaps more than any other person he knew—could cut through to the heart of the matter with the simplest of ease. He hadn’t known what to expect from her when Gibby first brought her over to their lunch table, announcing in no uncertain terms they were dating, and that was the way it was going to be. He’d fallen prey to his own misguided characterizations, initially believing Jazz was nothing more than a somewhat empty-headed yet totally hot cheerleader. He’d been wrong in that regard and kicked himself for being so quick to judge. It’d taken time, sure, but change often did. They were three, and then they’d become four, but it wasn’t until this past summer when Seth had been busy almost every day and Gibby was out of town doing hippie things that Nick got one-on-one time with her and saw the splendor that was his friend.
It’d been slightly awkward at first, texting her to see if she wanted to hang out. She’d immediately responded yes thank you ur cool, and though Nick thought she was an excellent judge of character, he’d worried they wouldn’t have anything to talk about that didn’t revolve around Gibby or Seth. Or worse, Owen.
But she’d surprised him, as was her way. She wasn’t the smartest person in the world, yet she never claimed to be. She was happy just … being. Nick didn’t understand it, not really, but he thought maybe he didn’t have to. She didn’t expect him to be anything but who he was, and Nick could count on one hand the number of people who were like her.
And it had been awkward, at least the first few days. He’d worried he’d say something stupid that would end up somehow ruining her relationship with Gibby, and then he’d have to face her wrath, which terrified him down to his bones. It wasn’t until Jazz had called him on a Tuesday morning mid-June to tell him she’d bought them both tickets to the latest superhero movie with slow-motion explosions and men and women in skintight uniforms that he’d realized that maybe they weren’t so different after all. They’d spent the entire six-hour run time of the movie cackling at the ridiculousness of it in an empty theater, throwing popcorn at each other, and getting sticky with melted Junior Mints, shouting at the screen whenever something implausible happened for the sake of plot. Nick had gone into the movie with someone he considered a friend. He’d left with a bestie he would do anything for. If that made him easy, well. That was just fine with him.
(Which he proved to be true the next day, when she invited him to go along while she took her mother’s toy poodle—Maria Von Trapp, an awful name for a dog, in Nick’s estimation—to the groomers. The dog did not like Nick. This was made clear when it bit him on the hand and then pissed on his shoes. Jazz had made it up to him by buying him ice cream. Nick considered them even, especially when she didn’t look at him in horror when he poured chocolate syrup on top of a pile of sour gummy worms, as most people did.)
“No,” Nick mumbled to Jazz now, especially since he didn’t like seeing anyone he loved cry, even if it meant his plan was pretty much ruined. It hurt too much when he couldn’t find a way to fix it. “But what if I promise not to serial murder anyone? And besides, I’ve never had a head injury—”
“Concussion,” Gibby said as she came back in the room. The laughter was gone from her face, and Seth trailed in behind her looking troubled. “Seventh grade. You got hit in the head while playing dodgeball because you were like an awkward baby gazelle and didn’t understand how to dodge.”
Nick scowled at her. “That game is so archaic. It’s a middle school torture device meant for thinning out the herd. And it wasn’t that bad of a concussion. I only had to have three follow-ups and my vision was blurry for a week and—crap.”
Seth nodded solemnly. “And a cricket in the microwave will complete the trifecta. Because no matter what you think, it’ll be torture for the bug, and it will die, Nicky. You can’t do that to the cricket. If anything, think of the backlash if you were ever found out. Say it worked. What happens when PETA hears about your origin story? They’ll come after you, even though they’re hypocritical monsters.”
“But,” Nick said weakly, “people eat crickets in some cultures. You can get them covered in chocolate and everything.”
“Yes, but they don’t get tortured. What if they do have a soul? Do you want that on your conscience? And what happens if it comes back and haunts you? Do you really want a ghost cricket around forever? It’ll probably chirp really loudly next to your ear and eventually drive you crazy. I don’t want my best friend to go insane because of ghost crickets.”
Nick looked forlornly at his idea board. Cosmo hadn’t said anything about a rebuttal when one of your ideas could potentially make you a serial killer and/or cause you to be haunted by a ghost cricket. It should have come with a warning.
He knew he needed to be the bigger person here. He picked up the specimen jar and went to the window in his room. He pushed it open, the sounds of the street below pouring in. He didn’t know how people could live in the middle of nowhere. It’d be too quiet. Nova City was like his mind, always moving. It was comforting, in a way.
“Okay, little guy,” he said to the cricket, “today’s your lucky day. You got a stay of execution. Be free!” He unscrewed the lid to the jar and flicked his wrist toward the window.
Except the cricket landed on the windowsill, and then immediately turned and jumped straight at Nick. Given that it was the size of a small Buick, he screamed and took a stumbling step back. It landed on his arm. He waved it wildly, trying to get it off before it could maul him.
He succeeded in that regard, but at great cost. The cricket launched itself at Gibby, who made a noise as if she got punched in the stomach, trying to push herself back on the bed and hitting her head against the wall. “No,” she moaned. “Oh god, no.”
The cricket landed on Nick’s pillow. With a warrior’s cry, Nick picked up a textbook off his desk and threw it at the cricket, only to hit Seth in the arm when he tried to reach for the bug himself.
“Ow!” Seth cried. “Why did you throw a book at me?”
“I didn’t! You got in my way!”
“You’re all useless,” Jazz said, rolling her eyes. She stood, smoothing her skirt. She reached down and slid off one of her heels, flipped it over in a deft move, and then smashed it against Nick’s pillow.
It was quiet, after.
She lifted her shoe.
There was a black, wet smudge on Nick’s pillow.
“There,” Jazz said, lifting her leg and sliding her heel back on. “Now that that’s over with, I saw pizza downstairs, and I think I’ve earned a slice. If you’ll excuse me.”
Her hair streamed behind her as she exited the room.
“I’m sorry, Nick,” Gibby said, staring after her girlfriend.
Nick sighed. “It’s fine. It’s just a bug—”
“No. Not about that. I’m sorry that I’m now aroused on your bed.”
“Ack! Gross! Get off, get off, get off!”