Flash Fire

by TJ Klune

  And that was it.

  It didn’t help that Nick had neither taken Concentra in two days, nor been able to use his powers. No matter what he did, he couldn’t so much as move another cup. He’d spent Sunday afternoon in the Gray house under the watchful eye of Seth, Martha, and Bob, straining to no avail. He was frustrated, his thoughts jumbled and roiling.

  All in all, not a great start to the week. He couldn’t even relish in the fact that he’d slept over at his boyfriend’s house, given that Bob had set him up in the spare room with the stern warning that Nick and Seth were not allowed to sleep in the same bed. “I was a teenager once,” he’d said, arms folded. “I know what goes on in your minds. Oh, it’ll start off innocent, but then there’s Vaseline on the ceiling and where will we be then?”

  So, no. Not a good Monday in the slightest.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Jazz said. “And I’m totally on board with the montage idea. I even downloaded a soundtrack for it so it feels like a movie. Fair warning, it’s mostly Gregorian chanting because I have wide and varied tastes. You’ll get used to it.”

  “My soul is withered,” Nick said in a growl, trying to sound like the hero he was meant to be. “I want to reach out for help, yet I don’t know how. I’ve always been a loner, but I use that as an excuse to not let anybody get close, scared that they might see me for who I really am.” He looked off into the distance, contemplating the despair that fueled him. “I want someone to love me for who I am, darkness and all.”

  “Oh boy,” Seth said. “It’s a good thing I already do, then.”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “But you could get hurt because I let you in, and I don’t—don’t—” His throat closed. His eyes bulged. He tried to talk but could only squeak.

  “What’s wrong?” Seth asked, looking worried. He ran his hands up and down Nick’s arms. “What happened? Is it your powers?” He looked up as if he expected to see something floating above them. Nothing was.

  “Holy crap,” Gibby breathed. “Is this happening right in front of us? Yesssss.”

  “Quiet,” Jazz hissed at her. “We can’t interfere. We can only observe. We talked about this. You know how queer boys are in the wild. If they know they’re being watched, they get skittish and run for the forest.”

  Seth blinked. “We run where? What’re you talking about?”

  “You—” Nick managed to say. “You just told me you loved me.”

  “Oh,” Seth said. “Oh. Uh, shits. Right. Um, okay, so—” He exhaled explosively, cheeks expanding. “Wow. Yikes. Okay. Hoo boy.” His face turned red, and Nick didn’t know what to do that didn’t involve lying on top of Seth and gyrating obscenely. They were in public, and Nick’s dad had made sure when Nick had started dating Owen that he knew the ins and outs of indecency laws. That was a conversation on par with lubed bananas, something Nick never wanted to think about again. “I didn’t mean…” Then Seth clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “No, you know what? Screw it. I did mean it.” He turned on the street and tilted his head back, shouting, “I love Nicholas Bell, and I don’t care who knows! He’s my boyfriend, and I am in love with him!”

  Nick gaped at him, brain misfiring as it collapsed into catastrophic shut-down mode. But through the storm, he saw a small ray of light, warm and sweet and kind. He watched as Seth spun around, announcing to everyone on the street that Nick was the best boyfriend in the world, and that Seth loved him. A man walking by high-fived him, telling him to get down with his bad self before continuing down the street.

  Seth dropped his arms, cheeks flushed, grinning widely as he looked at Nick.

  And Nick said, “I—” He didn’t know what to say.

  Seth’s expression softened as he took Nick’s hand. “I know, Nicky. You don’t have to say it back, okay? Not until you’re ready. It’s for you, yeah, but it’s also for me.”

  Nick didn’t know if he was ready to say it or not, which seemed to be answer enough. He loved Seth, almost more than anything in the world. And since they’d turned from bros to bros who kissed and junk, that feeling had grown exponentially, new facets to it that Nick couldn’t completely understand. He felt something for Seth, something grand and exciting, but he couldn’t quite parse through it, not with any clarity.

  So he blurted the only thing that came to mind. “Will you go to prom with me?” Then, “Dammit. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. There was going to be a flash mob and everything!”

  “Good,” Jazz said sagely. “Good.”

  Seth laughed, and Nick’s heart was so full, he actually thought he’d die. “Yeah. Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.” And with that, he threw his arms around Nick, kissing him hard right in the middle of the sidewalk. Gibby and Jazz cheered behind them.

  “Huzzah!” someone on the street shouted. “Get your man!”

  Seth pulled away but only just, pressing his forehead against Nick’s. They breathed each other in. “See?” Seth whispered. “It’s not all bad. We’ve still got good things, Nick. No matter what, okay? You and me. Always.”

  Nick nodded dumbly, unable to speak.

  “I love love,” Gibby said with a sigh. “If you tell anybody I said that, I’ll get Jazz to stab you with her shoes.”

  “I haven’t stabbed anyone in a long time,” Jazz said. “Feel free to tell anyone we don’t like.”

  “Not all bad,” Nick choked out.

  * * *

  Not all bad?

  Ha.

  The moment they stepped into Centennial High, things were much, much worse. Because it seemed everyone had seen the news over the weekend. Not only were a good quarter of the students wearing unsanctioned Extraordinaries gear, they had also apparently decided that Nick was cool again.

  “I followed the Twitter account,” a douchebro in a letterman jacket told him, slinging an arm around Nick’s shoulder and pulling him toward the front doors while Gibby, Jazz, and Seth glared behind him. “You think you could set up a meeting? You’re Pyro Storm’s spokesperson, right? Can you see if he’ll come to my house party next weekend? My dad will pay for him to come and light some stuff on fire.”

  Before Nick could respond, he was pulled away by Megan Ross, one of the most popular girls in school. She was a senior and absolutely terrifying. “Ignore them,” she said, all business. “Hyenas, all of them, scavenging for meat. You need someone like me, Ned.”

  “My name is Nick.”

  She smiled sweetly. “You look like a Nick. It’s the eyebrows.”

  He didn’t know what to do with that. “I need to get to class—”

  She hooked her arm through his. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I’m in charge of the prom committee. The theme is Starry Night, which is stupid, but I was outvoted by heathens. However, if I go to them and tell them Pyro Storm is coming to prom, we could get the theme changed. Think about it, Niles: all of us dressed in our best, music and lights and dancing, and then Pyro Storm descends from the ceiling, fire flying around him. Starry Nights? Who needs Starry Nights when we could have Fiery Nights?”

  “I don’t—”

  She pressed a finger against his lips. “Shh. Shh, shh, shh. Think about it. Talk it over with Pyro Storm. And I’m his biggest fan. If he needs a date, I’d be more than willing to put out—I mean, put myself out there as a volunteer.”

  “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Nick asked. “In fact, isn’t he the douchebro you just stole me from?”

  “Pyro Storm is on my celebrity list,” she said. “Jason and I both have them. If we ever get the chance to get with someone on our list, it doesn’t count as cheating.”

  “I don’t understand heterosexuals,” Nick mumbled.

  She ignored him. “So it’s settled; you’ll talk to Pyro Storm about coming to prom. Thank you, Nelson. You’re a sweetheart. I’ll never forget this. Erica, that better not be how you’re leaving the prom banner. It’s crooked. It is. I can—you know what? I’ll handle it myself. Move. I said move.”

  “They’ve a
ll lost their damn minds,” Nick said as Megan practically shoved a girl out a window to fix the banner.

  “It’ll blow over,” Gibby said. “It did last time, and it will again. Trust me. By the end of the day, people are going to forget all about you and Pyro Storm.”

  * * *

  Oh, Gibby.

  Lunch—their refuge, where everyone usually ignored them—turned into a free-for-all. A line formed at their table with students asking for everything from autographs to wanting to know what Pyro Storm smelled like when he was angry. One enterprising girl asked if Nick would give Pyro Storm a package, telling him he shouldn’t open it because it was only meant for Pyro Storm. “It’s my underwear,” she whispered aggressively as she thrust a wrapped box (complete with a comical red bow) into Nick’s hands.

  Nick yelped and threw the box across the cafeteria.

  Unperturbed, the girl said, “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “Your thoughts need Jesus,” Nick bellowed after her as she left. He looked back at the line, hoping to see it starting to thin out. It wasn’t. If anything, more people were joining, and Nick couldn’t even enjoy the bologna sandwich Martha had made for him.

  “Still think it’s a good idea to promote Pyro Storm?”

  “Seth, I swear to god if you don’t—what? No, I’m not going to ask Pyro Storm to sign your purse, strange woman! I don’t even know who you—wait. Don’t you work in the front office? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  * * *

  By the time the final bell rang, Nick was convinced that Extraordinaries were the worst thing to happen to the world and that he never wanted to hear anything about them again. He hoped none of the fandom was hoping for an update on his fic anytime soon, because he’d most likely do something drastic, like update the tags with the dreaded Major Character Death so he could kill off Pyro Storm or, at the very least, make him lose his powers so that he and Nash could live a normal life away from the spotlight.

  Which sucked balls, seeing as how an Extraordinary was in love with him and was going to prom with him. It should have been one of the best days of his life, instead of him wishing for a meteor to hit the earth and destroy everyone in a wave of fire. At least then they’d leave him alone. Because they’d be dead.

  They stepped out of school and into the cold air.

  “It’ll blow over,” Gibby said. “Give it a few days. By the end of the week, everyone will have forgotten about it. We’ll—uh-oh.”

  Nick groaned. “What? No uh-oh! I am done with uh-oh!” He followed Gibby’s gaze and found what she was looking at. “Uh-oh.”

  There, standing in front of the school next to the idling SUV, was his dad, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he looked directly at Nick.

  “Shit,” Nick muttered. “Any chance someone can create a diversion so I can escape? Seth, how do you feel about lighting something on fire? Good, I hope.”

  Seth rolled his eyes fondly. He glanced around quickly before dropping his voice barely above a whisper. “Part of being an Extraordinary is facing things, even when you don’t want to. You have the power, Nick. Now you need to figure out what to do with it.” He nodded toward Dad. “This could be a start. It’ll be hard, but the Nick I love doesn’t ever back down, even when it’d be easier to do so.”

  Nick scowled at him. “That is blatant manipulation, and I’ll allow it because of the whole you-love-me-thing. But this is the only time, Gray. You hear me? Don’t get used to it. Also, you are the best boyfriend in the world.”

  Seth laughed quietly. “Ditto.”

  “You want us to go with you?” Gibby asked.

  Nick sighed and shook his head. “Nah, Seth’s right. I have to deal with it at some point. Might as well be now.”

  “I like Extraordinary you,” Jazz said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I mean, I like you no matter how you are, but this Nick? This is a good Nick. Just … go easy, okay? Listen. Don’t overreact. Use your words.”

  “When have I ever overreacted?” Nick demanded. Then, before anyone could speak, he added, “Yeah, okay. All the time. Whatever.” He squared his shoulders as Jazz let go of his hand. “I can do this.”

  “You can,” Gibby said. “Because you deserve answers, Nicky. And your dad is the only one who can give them to you. Text us later, all right?”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I know I probably don’t say that enough, but I really mean it. You guys are the best, even when you’re making me go talk to my dad.” He looked away. “I’m a little scared.”

  He laughed when they all hugged him at the same time, other students milling around them, a few staring. Nick glared at them, daring them to speak. They moved on without comment. His friends stepped back, and Nick nodded at them before turning back toward his father.

  Each step toward him was harder than the last, but Nick felt the eyes of his friends watching his every movement and knew they were right. It was time to deal with this, to get the answers to all his questions.

  Dad dropped his arms as Nick approached.

  “Father,” Nick said stiffly.

  “Nicholas,” Dad said with a nod, his expression giving nothing away. He opened the passenger door for Nick. Hesitating briefly, Nick climbed inside as Dad shut the door behind him. Dad stared at him through the window for a moment before circling the front of the SUV.

  Whatever happened, he wasn’t going to make this easy for his dad. He glanced out the window, seeing his friends watching him from the top of the stairs. Before he could stop himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, which had already synced up with the SUV, the little Bluetooth symbol bright in the top right corner. Fingers flying over the screen, he found what he was looking for. He grinned as Extraordinary porn began to blare from the speakers. He rolled down the window, letting everyone hear Boner Boy give the oil worker the dicking of his life. Seth’s face was in his hands as Jazz patted his shoulder. Gibby gave Nick a thumbs-up. Everyone else around looked mostly horrified.

  The moment shattered when Dad climbed into the SUV and slammed his hand against the dash, silencing the porn. Without so much as a glance at Nick, he pulled out onto the street, leaving the school behind.

  12

  The ride home was, in a word, excruciating.

  Dad didn’t talk. Nick didn’t either. He wanted to, but he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t come out in fierce accusations that he’d later regret. Regardless of what some people thought, Nick did have the presence of mind to know that some things said aloud—even if he didn’t mean them—could never be taken back. He couldn’t sit still. His leg jumped. He tapped his fingers against his thigh. He looked at his phone and set it down, only to pick it up again a few seconds later. He glanced out the window, watching the city pass them by, careful to only look at his father out of the corner of his eye. A headache was coming on, but that only made him more furious. Was it because he was stressed? Or because he hadn’t taken his pill? Or was it his telekinesis, struggling to break free?

  Nick opened his mouth more than once but closed it before he could speak. He wasn’t going to go first. He’d done nothing wrong. It was Dad who needed to explain himself. And it’d better be good, or Nick was going to make him wish he’d never been born.

  I’m a drama queen, he texted to Seth.

  I know <3 Need help?

  Thanks, boo, but I’ve got this.

  Jfc Nicky. Don’t call me that.

  Nah. You told me u luuuuv me so it’s official.

  I did. And I do.

  * * *

  When they got home Dad went in the kitchen. He never looked back, expecting Nick to follow. The Christmas decorations were gone. Dad must have packed them away. He and Jazz had left a mess when they’d fled the house, but most everything looked back in order. He wondered if the tapes were still in the attic.

  A rectangular box sat on the kitchen table. Nick eyed it warily as Dad leaned against the counter, chin against his chest as he breathed in, h
eld it, breathed out, held it. Just like he’d told Nick to do time and time again when things got bad. It struck Nick, then, that he might not be the only one on the verge of panic. He didn’t know why he’d never seen it before. Did Dad have panic attacks too? What if he’d gotten that from his father, like he’d gotten his abilities from his mother?

  Nick stood in the entryway to the kitchen, unsure of what to do. He waited. He wouldn’t be the first to break. Stubborn, both of them, through and through.

  Dad spoke first. Without looking at Nick, he said, “Open the box.”

  Nick stiffened, overwarm and uncomfortable. “What is it?”

  “Do it, kid. Please.”

  Nick approached the table slowly. His mind whirred, the knot in his head writhing. Each step felt as if he were walking underwater, movements slow and lethargic, even as he thought he would buzz right out of his skin. The box was big, white, and made of cardboard. He settled his hands on the lid but didn’t pull it off. “Dad, I—”

  Dad shook his head. “Box first, then we’ll talk. I swear. I’ll tell you everything, but you need to see what’s inside.”

  “I’ve never seen this before,” Nick said, stalling for time, trying to figure out what the box could contain.

  Dad laughed hollowly. “That’s because I kept it in a storage facility. Same with most of the tapes you found. I brought them home because I was—” He sounded like he was breaking into pieces. “Because I was missing her. I needed to hear her voice, and I—you weren’t supposed to find them. I forgot they were there when I—” He shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Open the box, Nicky.”

  He did as he was asked. He pulled the lid off. And froze.

  There, resting in the box, was a cerulean-blue Extraordinary costume, complete with a mask with white lenses. He recognized it almost immediately, even if he’d only seen glimpses of it caught in grainy photographs.