by TJ Klune
Bob snorted. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on us. It was all you. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the credit.”
“We’re part of the chaperone team,” Dad said. “The school put out a call a few weeks back, asking for parents to volunteer.” He shrugged. “I signed up. And then Bob and Martha did too.” He smiled. “And I couldn’t let Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents feel left out, so they decided to volunteer as well.”
Nick said, “What.”
“You won’t see us,” Dad said. He leaned forward, his face inches from Nick’s own, his voice a whisper. “But we will be there, watching your every move.” He glanced pointedly at Nick’s coat pocket, where he’d put the condoms.
Nick shoved Dad away as he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe you—this is such a violation of—do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Is that what this is?”
“Yes,” Dad said. “That’s exactly it.” He sobered slightly. “But also, to make sure nothing happens. Not that I think it will,” he added as Nick started to sputter angrily. “A precaution, and nothing more, especially with this whole bounty business. I promise I won’t try to talk to you. No one will even know we’re related. Especially with you in that suit.”
“Whatever,” Nick said. “I’m done with you.” He pushed his way past Bob into the living room, where Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents were standing in front of the girls. He was about to demand that they find something else to do for the night when Trey and Aysha Gibson moved to the left, and Miles and Joanna Kensington moved right.
Nick’s lament died a quick death in his throat at the sight of his girls. He’d already seen their fancy outfits at the shop, but somehow, they looked even better now: Jazz, in her lacy, flowing dress, and Gibby in her old-fashioned tuxedo, her bow tie matching the colors Jazz wore. She’d even found a red wallet chain, which dangled on her right hip. Fixed to her chest was a rose boutonniere, held in place by a safety pin. Jazz had a corsage made up of a rose on a bed of baby’s breath.
“Holy shit,” Nick breathed. “You two look freaking rad.”
Gibby tipped her top hat at him as Jazz curtsied wonderfully. “Thank you,” Jazz said. “You clean up good too, Nicky.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek before wiping away the smudge left from her lipstick.
“Seriously,” Nick said. “Everyone is going to be super jealous of us. We’re going to be the best-dressed people there. That’s a thing that happens at prom, right? Best-dressed group of four award or something? Because we’ve already locked that shit down.”
Gibby reached out and straightened Nick’s bow tie. “I’d like to not be the center of attention, at least for one night, if that’s all right with you.”
“Yeah,” Nick said, admiring Gibby’s tux. “That sounds good to me. What would make it even better is if our parents weren’t going to be there.”
“What,” Jazz said.
“What,” Gibby said.
“Surprise!” Miles said. “We all get to go to your prom too.” He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Chaperones for the win!”
“Daddy,” Jazz said with a pout. “You should’ve told me. What if I want to do something that you don’t approve of?”
“Then you probably shouldn’t do it,” Miles said. “Seems simple enough.”
“You probably won’t even see us,” Aysha said, snapping photo after photo. “We’ll skulk in the shadows with all the other chaperones.”
“And we’re going to dance too,” Trey said. “I’ve been practicing the worm, and I think I’ve almost got it. Miles and Aaron are probably going to do it with me.”
“Dad, no,” Gibby said.
“Dad, yes,” Trey and Miles and Dad all said at the same time.
Martha appeared in the entryway to the living room, smiling widely. She looked around the room, gaze settling on Nick. She crooked a finger in his direction, beckoning him toward her. He went, shooting a glare at his father, who ignored him as if he couldn’t feel the heat of Nick’s eyes.
“Look at you,” Martha said when Nick stopped in front of her. “Only you could pull off a suit like that. Quite handsome.”
“Thank you. I’m getting that a lot. It’s hard being this pretty.” He sighed as he looked her up and down. She wore a dress the color of storm clouds. “You look nice, too, but I guess that means that you’re doing the whole chaperone thing. Neat.”
“I’ll ignore that last part and say thank you for the compliment.” She steered him toward the stairs. “He’s a little nervous.”
Nick blinked. “Seth? Why?”
Martha chuckled. “He’s got it in his head that tonight has to be perfect to make up for the last few weeks. I told him he shouldn’t worry too much, but you know how he is.”
Nick did, and while he hadn’t exactly been nervous before, he was now. He didn’t know why. “As long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”
Martha watched him for a long moment before sniffling. “Oh, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but you don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you, Nick.”
Nick was confused. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”
She wiped her eyes. “Never you mind. Keep on being you, no matter what. That’s all I ask for.”
“I don’t know how to be anyone else,” Nick said honestly. “Warts and all.”
“I like what you call your warts. They’re part of the boy you are, and I happen to love that boy very much.”
“Oh,” Nick said, flushing as he shuffled his feet. “I—uh, I love you too?”
Wrong thing to say, seeing as how Martha hugged him tightly, her chest hitching once, twice before she pulled away, shaking her head. “I’m happy he has someone like you. Protect each other. Care for each other, and you’ll never be left wanting.”
“We always do,” Nick said, ready for the explosion of parental emotions to be over. “Is he still upstairs? Do you want me to … go … get … wow.” The last word came out breathy and soft, a sigh that crawled from Nick’s throat.
Seth Gray stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them, a question on his face as he glanced at his aunt. She waved him off, taking a step back, but she might as well have disappeared for all Nick knew, because everything disappeared—the sound of the people in the living room, the house itself, the city, the world. All that existed was Seth. Heart in his throat, Nick tracked every step Seth took down the stairs.
His slacks pulled tight against the muscles in his thighs, his suit coat buttoned up the front of his broad chest. His purple bow tie (Eggplant, Nick thought hysterically, such a gross food) matched the pocket square folded into the top pocket of the suit. His shoes were shiny, and Nick couldn’t think of a single phrase that didn’t involve something the adults in the room wouldn’t appreciate, seeing as how much of it was aggressively filthy. He watched as Seth’s curls bounced, the ends of which looked wet, as if Seth had just come from the shower.
Nick realized his mouth was hanging open as Seth reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi, Nicky,” Seth mumbled, looking down at the floor between them.
“Oh my god,” Nick breathed. “How dare you look that hot without a damn warning first. What in the actual hell are you doing with me?”
Seth chuckled as he glanced up shyly at Nick over the tops of his glasses, something Nick didn’t know was a kink of his until right this very moment. Seth seemed pleased, his cheeks reddening as he reached out and tugged on the lapels of Nick’s coat. “I’m with you because I want to be. And because you’re pretty hot yourself.”
“I won’t question your tastes then,” Nick croaked out. “Because I’m wearing a dead magician’s suit and don’t want to make you change your mind.”
“I wouldn’t,” Seth said. “Even though you’re wearing a dead magician’s suit.”
Nick knew it was almost time. Almost time to tell Seth everything he felt, everything that was practically bursting in his head and chest. Not quite yet, but soon. Tonight. When th
ey were slow dancing, perhaps in a corner away from everyone else. He’d say those three little words that scared the hell out of him, but that he knew he felt down to his bones.
“Nick?” Seth asked.
“Sorry,” Nick said hastily. “Sorry. Just … thank you.”
Seth arched an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Existing,” Nick said honestly. “For being my best friend. For being my boyfriend. For being you.”
Seth laughed bright and loud, and Nick was entranced. He watched Seth lean forward until he was kissing him sweetly. Seth tasted like toothpaste. Nick was going to devour him.
It was only then that Nick saw the clear plastic box in Seth’s hand. Inside sat two violets held together by a pin and wrapped in a black band of satin. “Is that for me?”
Seth nodded, fumbling with the box, fingers shaking. “Yeah. Uh, the boutonniere, like we talked about?”
Nick panicked. “Right. Right. The boutonniere. Like we talked about. That one. I’ll…” Oh crap. Had he forgotten it? It was in the fridge, and he couldn’t remember if he’d taken it out. Dammit. Prom was going to be ruined because Nick couldn’t keep his head on straight, and Seth was going to be disappointed when—
Something was thrust into Nick’s hand, and he looked back and saw his father standing behind him, holding Nick’s backpack. Nick looked down, and there, in his hand, was a plastic box like the one Seth held.
“Thanks,” Nick said, breathing a sigh of relief. He lifted the box to pull the boutonniere out, but his hands were shaking too hard, and he almost dropped it. Dad and Bob appeared before he could stab Seth in the chest with the pin. Dad took the box from Nick, Bob from Seth. Then they exchanged them, the plastic crackling. They pulled them out at the same time, and Martha stepped forward, taking the empty boxes. Nick heard everyone gathering in the entryway, but he couldn’t focus on them because Dad was in front of him, pinning the boutonniere against his chest. Bob did the same to Seth, whispering quietly to him, words just for them as Seth nodded, head jerking up and down.
When they finished, Nick was stunned to see Bob—grizzled, kind Bob—tearing up as he stepped back. “Look at you,” Bob said roughly. “You look like your father. I wish they could be here to see all that you’ve become.”
Seth smiled a watery smile. “Me too. But I’ve got you, so I think I’m doing okay.”
* * *
More tears fell from most of the adults in the room as they posed for photographs. The only person not outwardly teary was Miles, but even he had to blow his nose into a kerchief as Jo took pictures of Gibby standing behind Jazz, hands on her waist.
Finally, Jazz said, “We need to go. Our reservation is at six, and I don’t want our war against Ireland to be in vain.”
“War?” Bob asked, brow furrowing.
“She’s kidding,” Miles said. “Sort of. A diplomatic issue, but I’ve taken care of it. We’re all good. Get appetizers. Get all the appetizers you want.”
The adults gathered on the porch, calling out to them, waving and saying they’d see them all soon. Jo continued to take photo after photo. Nick made to follow his friends down the stairs but stopped when Aysha grabbed Dad by the arm.
“We’re trusting you with our daughter,” Aysha said in a low voice, the warning clear. “We care about you, Aaron, but please don’t mistake our affection for forgiveness. We’re not happy with what you kept from us, or what you represent. It’s going to take us time.”
Nick bristled, and at one point, he might’ve come to Dad’s defense, but he shoved his irritation away. She and Trey were right to say what they did. Dad had messed up, and not only because of what he’d kept from Jazz’s and Gibby’s parents. It went much further than that. Nick couldn’t defend his father against their words, not when they spoke the truth.
Dad nodded. “I understand, Aysha. I have to work to earn back your trust, if I ever do. I know it may not seem like much, but you have my word that I’ll protect them as much as I would Nick.”
Aysha paused a beat before nodding and dropping her hand. “All right. We’ll hold you to that promise.” She sighed when Trey took her hand. “We can worry about the rest later. Get our kids where they need to go. Don’t want a war with Ireland. We’d probably lose.”
Dad nodded before descending the stairs, nudging Nick along.
“She’s right, you know,” Nick muttered as they walked toward the SUV where Gibby had opened the door for Jazz, bowing low, much to her delight. “Both of them are.”
“I know,” Dad said quietly. “They’re absolutely allowed to be angry with me, same as you. I messed up. The best thing I can do now is own it and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Can you do that?”
Dad stopped and glanced at Nick. Nick didn’t look away. “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told them at our meeting.”
“Support group meeting,” Nick said with disdain.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” He waited a moment as Nick closed his mouth. “I told them that I—okay. Not understand where they’re coming from, because that isn’t fair to them, but that I was listening. It’s not up to Aysha and Trey to teach me anything because that takes the weight of it off me and puts it on them, and they don’t deserve that. I have to be the one to make things right as best I can.”
“What does that mean?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Dad said. “But when I do, I’ll let you know. I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Nick said, nudging his shoe against Dad’s.
Dad laid an arm around Nick’s shoulders as he chuckled. “I’m counting on it, Nicky. Let’s get you where you need to be. And remember what I told you: no one in their right mind pays twenty bucks for a glass of water. But if you really have to, I’ve put money in your account.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Dad pulled him close. “Anytime, kid.”
17
They didn’t talk about Simon Burke.
That was something Nick would remember, despite all that would happen this night.
They didn’t talk about Simon Burke. They didn’t talk about Owen Burke. They didn’t talk about superpowers or fanfiction. They didn’t talk about potential Extraordinary names for Nick. They didn’t talk about Miss Conduct or TK or anyone else out in the world who could do things that most only dreamed about. They didn’t talk about Lighthouse or Team Pyro Storm or any battles on bridges. No one mentioned Jenny Bell or Guardian or dads who made deals with the devil in order to keep their children safe. There was no discussion about pills that gave people powers or pills that took powers away. No one mentioned ADHD or flying cups or secret lairs hidden behind pocket doors.
For eighty-seven minutes, Nick and Seth and Jazz and Gibby did what most teenagers did on prom night: dressed up in their best and ate at a restaurant whose menu was not laminated and instead was the size of a cell phone, with tiny print listing things that no one aside from Jazz could pronounce and didn’t have any prices. They made fun of Seth when he decided he was going to order something called Wagyu bolognese that cost eighty bucks and ended up tasting like Hamburger Helper.
They gagged when Jazz ate oysters, the meat sliding from the shell into her mouth, juice dripping down her chin.
They grinned when Nick drank twenty-dollar water only to find out it tasted exactly like water from the tap.
They applauded when Gibby decided that life was too short and ordered calamari, complete with suckers still attached to the fried, rubbery tentacles. She ate them all, and by the end announced that they were her favorite food.
They blushed (at least, Nick and Seth did) when a man with a violin appeared at their table, the music sweet and romantic, Seth reaching under the table and taking Nick’s hand in his, squeezing tightly, his eyes glittering in the low light as he looked at Nick.
And dessert! They ordered dessert—chocolate something—that ended up being too rich. They ate all of it anyway, spoons scraping against the p
late on the table between them. Jazz fed Gibby, getting chocolate on her nose and cheek. Gibby didn’t seem to mind, even if she grumbled about it.
And through it all, they just … existed. Seth and Jazz and Nick listened as Gibby plotted out her future, the plans still tenuous but her excitement palpable as she waved her hands. They listened as Jazz gushed about the speech Gibby was writing when she would take the stage as valedictorian, though no manner of begging would make Gibby recite what she’d written so far. Nick watched her roll her eyes at his insistence and laughed until he couldn’t breathe.
As the last of the dishes were taken away, Seth raised his glass of sparkling cider and said, “A toast.”
The others raised their own glasses, watching, waiting.
He said, “I don’t know where I’d be without all of you. For the longest time, I thought I had to do this alone. That it’d be easier. I was wrong. The only reason I’ve gotten as far as I have is because of you. Thank you for being there for me. For being there for each other. We may not be popular or know what the hell we’re doing, but as long as we’re together, I know we’re gonna be all right.”
“Damn right we will,” Gibby said. “And even though I’ll be at a different school next year, I’m not going to let you idiots get in trouble without me. Yeah, I’ll be in college and therefore much more mature, but I promise I’ll still make time for my friends.”
“Then we’ll graduate too,” Jazz said. “And we’ll follow Gibby and get an apartment in the city where we’ll live together and protect people from other people making stupid decisions, like trying to take over Nova City by murdering all of us horribly.”
They laughed and then looked to Nick.
Nick, who was so full of love for each and every one of them, so much so that the words were stuck. He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. Clearing his throat, he said, “Paths diverge. People change. There may come a day when we go off in different directions, but today isn’t that day. And I don’t want to be anywhere else but right here, with you.”
They clinked their glasses together, each of them drinking deeply.