Flash Fire

by TJ Klune

Seth went without so much as a fight, much to Nick’s dismay.

  There was talk that he’d be allowed to return for his senior year, but Bob and Martha were looking into homeschooling Seth in case that didn’t go through. The upside would be that he could potentially graduate early if they went that direction.

  The downside?

  He wouldn’t get to spend his senior year with Nick and Jazz. Nick knew it bothered Seth, though he put on a brave face. He’d had to get permission to be allowed to come to Gibby’s graduation.

  There had been protests on his behalf, and then counterprotesters against those protesters, all of them holding signs that said things like LET THE KID LIVE, DAMN! (Nick agreed wholeheartedly) and GOD CREATED ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND PYRO STORM (what did that even mean?) and PYRO STORM IS AMAZING (damn right!).

  And then Burke had given his interview with Rebecca Firestone, which made Nick feel even worse. Burke appeared untouchable. They all knew he’d been controlling Smoke and Ice, but they had no proof. Cap and Dad had decided to go after Burke hard, but they’d been shut down by the mayor, who was concerned with public perception and how it would look against her own campaign for reelection. What would people think if it seemed as if the mayor had weaponized the police force to investigate a political opponent? Dad had been furious, especially when he was removed from the Extraordinaries Division by the acting chief of police after being accused of covering for Pyro Storm, now revealed to be Seth Gray, the boyfriend of his son.

  What Aaron Bell had done next had made Nick prouder of his father than he’d ever been before. They had been sitting in their kitchen, dinner half-eaten between them, talking about nothing and everything. Nick had thought Dad was working up to something, but he didn’t know what.

  He’d been proven correct when Dad cleared his throat and said, “Nicky? I need to talk to you about something. It’s important. It affects the both of us, and I want to run it by you before I do anything.”

  Nick had set down his fork and looked at his father expectantly. “Yeah, okay. Go for it. I’m listening.”

  Dad had looked down at his hands, the circles under his eyes like bruises. Nick hated to see him so beaten down, which was why he was surprised that when Dad lifted his head, all he’d seen was firm resolve. “I want to follow Cap’s lead.”

  Nick had nodded slowly. He’d had an inkling this was coming, especially after what Cap had done. It still scared the shit out of him. “You’re resigning.”

  “I am,” Dad had said. He’d reached across the table, his palm up, fingers curling in invitation. Nick had laid his own hand on top of his father’s. Both gripped each other’s wrist. “I—I can’t be part of this anymore. I don’t…” He’d huffed out a breath. “I don’t recognize the people I work with anymore. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be associated with Seth. My superiors will never see beyond that again.”

  Nick had bristled. “Oh no. You don’t get to put that on—”

  Dad had squeezed his wrist. “I’m not. I promise. It’s a good thing, Nicky. Because I would rather stand with him—with you—than anything else. But it’s not only about that. It’s about me too. The things I’ve done. The harm I’ve caused.” He’d blinked rapidly as his chest hitched, his pulse stuttering under Nick’s fingers. “I should’ve quit a long time ago. I had no business having a badge when I … hurt someone like I did. I lost sight of what being an officer is supposed to mean. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I need to figure out a different way to create change for the better, and I don’t think I can do that staying with the NCPD.”

  “Are you scared?” Nick had asked quietly.

  Dad had laughed as he wiped his eyes. “Hell yes, I’m scared, but it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t want you to worry about money or anything like that. Your college fund is going to stay untouched. I’ve…” He’d sighed. “I think I’ve been planning this for longer than even I knew. I’ve squirreled away enough for us to get by until I figure things out. And we still have money from—from your mom’s life insurance.” He’d chuckled. “Still watching over us, even now.”

  “I can get a job,” Nick had said, heart in his throat. “Help out.”

  Dad had shaken his head. “Nah. Well, maybe for the summer, but when school starts up again, I want you to focus on graduating and nothing else. We’ll be all right, I promise.”

  “This feels like giving up,” Nick had admitted. “You and Cap. I know it’s not, but—”

  “It’s not,” Dad had said firmly. “I won’t speak for Cap, but for me, it’s about accountability. How can I help fight to change things when I can’t even hold myself responsible? And I can’t have that for myself or for you, because I’m your dad, Nicky. I need to lead by example, so you become the man I know you’ll be.”

  Nick had sniffled. “You’re doing all right so far. What are you gonna do next?”

  Dad had smiled at him. “Cap and I have some ideas. Nothing we’re ready to talk about yet, but once we know the direction we want to go, you’ll be the first we tell. You and Seth. Gibby and Jazz. Their parents and Bob and Martha. All of us to—”

  “—stand together so we don’t have to struggle apart,” Nick had whispered.

  Dad had nodded, pleased. “Exactly, kid. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Nick had believed him. And it had gotten him thinking about who he was supposed to be, the man he’d become.

  Which was why when he’d found himself at the Caplan house the next week—Dad and Cap locked away in Cap’s office, making plans, he came to a decision. Not for Dad. Not for Seth. Not for his friends, but for himself.

  “They’ll keep going all night if we let them,” Mary Caplan had said with a laugh. Nick and Dad had come over for dinner at Mary’s invitation. Gluttons for punishment, even until the end, seeing as how Mary had delightedly told them she’d found a new recipe for pot roast. It’d tasted like sawdust mixed with tears. Nick had choked it down.

  “It’s never going to get easier, is it?” Nick had muttered as he helped Mary clear the table.

  She’d paused, rubbing her hands with a dish towel. “Remember what I told you when your dad was in the hospital?”

  He did and didn’t. Those were hazy days when all he’d known was panic and fear, worried that his father would never wake up.

  “The price,” Mary had said, “for loving a hero is a steep one. But we’re a lighthouse. A beacon to help them find their way home. What Cap and your father did was brave, Nicky. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. They’re going to need us now more than ever, but I know we’ll rise to the challenge.”

  Nick had said, “Can I tell you something?”

  “Of course, Nick. You can tell me anything.”

  “Well, I guess showing you is probably easier.”

  She’d leaned against the counter, arching an eyebrow. “Show me what?”

  He’d taken a deep breath and let it out slow. He’d raised his hand, brow furrowing as he searched for the spark within. It was coming easier now. The pressure built in his head, but it didn’t hurt as it once had. He barely had to push anymore.

  All the dishes that remained on the table had floated upward, spinning slowly as he moved them toward the sink. Mary gasped, hand at her throat, watching her plates and bowls and silverware float by her face and stack neatly in the sink. Once the last plate settled, Nick had lowered his hand.

  “Cap knows,” Nick had said quietly, nervous but trying not to show it. “Dad too. Gibby. Jazz. Seth, of course. Their parents and Bob and Martha. But you’re the first I’ve told since—since prom. I’m an Extraordinary.”

  Mary had stared at the dishes in her sink for a long moment. Then she’d shaken her head, a determined look upon her face. She’d marched right up to Nick and pulled him into a fierce hug. “Thank you for telling me,” she’d whispered. “I’m honored. But you should know I already thought you extraordinary.”

  Nick had sniffled. He heard movement near the entryway and s
aw Dad and Cap standing there, watching them both. Cap had grinned at him, mustache twitching. Dad had nodded slowly.

  Now, as people moved around them on the football field, looking for their loved ones in a sea of graduation caps, Nick lay his head on Seth’s shoulder. He didn’t know how many of his peers actually believed that he’d had nothing to do with what they’d seen at prom, but no one had pushed him.

  And now the school year was over, and they had a long, glorious summer stretching before them. Nick was going to use the time to listen to Seth, to let him talk about what he wanted. He hadn’t suited up as Pyro Storm since prom night, fearing retaliation, and Nick hadn’t pushed. He wouldn’t, not with the weight of his own powers resting firmly on his shoulders. It sucked that it had taken Nick coming into his own for him to realize how heavy the weight could be, and he promised himself that he’d never again try to push Seth into something he wasn’t ready for.

  And Simon Burke.

  The chill Nick had felt when he watched that interview felt like Ice had come back and frozen him solid. A cure. Burke said he had a cure. And he already seemed to have the police in his pocket, even though he hadn’t been elected yet. Add to it the fact that Owen Burke was out there, somewhere, and the future was a scary thing.

  They watched Gibby and Jazz standing in the middle of the milling crowd, their foreheads pressed together.

  Let them come, Nick thought as Seth kissed the top of his head.

  * * *

  Later, the four of them sat on the bleachers, watching the cleanup crew stack chairs and pick up discarded mortarboards, the tassels tangled and knotted. They were going to meet up with everyone later for Gibby’s celebration dinner at her house. Miles and Jo were hosting a barbecue with just those in the know so they could speak freely. Nick needed to go home and change first, but he had time. There was nowhere else he wanted to be.

  “It should have been you,” he said, and they looked at him. He shook his head. “It should have been you up on that stage, Gibby. You earned it.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, but I’m over it already. In six months, no one is going to remember who gave what speech. Who cares?”

  Nick did. He cared very much. His fury at the school’s decision to disqualify Gibby from being valedictorian, given her participation in protecting the school, was only rivaled by his rage at the decision to kick Seth out for the rest of the year. Gibby’s parents had raised holy hell, but the school board wouldn’t budge, even under the threat of legal action. They were still investigating, they said. Gibby was part of that investigation. And until the investigation was complete, she couldn’t represent her class as valedictorian. Nick thought that was bullshit and hated Ice and Smoke and Burke even more. It was only later that Jazz had confided in him that Gibby had cried that night, angry tears at the unfairness of it all. Jazz had also told him that Gibby said she would do it all over again if she had to. Keeping people safe was all that mattered. Once a member of Team Pyro Storm, always a member of Team Pyro Storm.

  “I care,” Nick said. “And I know Seth and Jazz do too.”

  “We do,” Seth said. He brightened. “Wait. Hold on. You could do it now.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  Seth grinned at her. “Come on. I know you worked on a speech. Jazz said you practiced with her.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, a curl of his hair hanging on his forehead. “And I bet it’s as amazing as you are.”

  “Hell yes,” Nick crowed. “Seth, you have the best ideas. Gibby, you earned this. I want to hear what you have to say.”

  Gibby shook her head. “I’m not going to—”

  “You don’t have to do the whole thing,” Jazz said, kissing Gibby’s cheek. “Just do the last part. It’s my favorite.”

  “Pleeeeease,” Nick whined. “Gibby, Gibby, GibbyGibbyGibbyGibby—”

  “Oh my god, fine,” she said with a scowl. “I’ll do it if you shut up. You’re so annoying.”

  “It’s his superpower,” Seth said. He paused, considering. “One of his superpowers.”

  “Hey!”

  Gibby snorted as she stood, smoothing her graduation gown. The metal bleacher creaked under her boots. “I didn’t finish it,” she warned them. “And no matter what Jazz says, it’s not very good.”

  “She’s so modest,” Jazz said. “It’s perfect. Start with the part about living life to—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Gibby muttered. “I know.” The sun beat down on her head as she pulled herself to her full height. For a moment, Nick could almost see the adult she was becoming: lovely and formidable, capable of anything she put her extraordinary mind to. The world wasn’t ready for Lola Gibson. She was going to change everything for the better.

  And then she began, her voice growing stronger as she went on.

  “This life isn’t one I expected. I never expected to be the strong, queer Black woman you see standing before you all. I never expected to have the friends I do, people I would do anything for because I know they would do anything for me. It’s scary, thinking about where we go from here, leaving this behind. And it doesn’t help that the world is scary, too, filled with people who would do anything to make sure we don’t succeed. But I’m here to tell you that no matter how loud those detractors get—no matter how angry they are, how spiteful—our voices are louder. Our voices are stronger. And there is nothing we can’t do if we raise our voices together, if we lift each other up. The fight for change is never easy, but in the end it’s worth it, especially if those who come after us are able to live in a world that accepts them for who they are, no matter what that may be.

  “So, when we leave here, I ask that you remember something: a world without hope isn’t a world at all. Hope is a boon. Hope is a necessity. Hope, when need be, is a weapon, one to be wielded with a firm but just hand. These are my hopes for you, for me, for all of us.

  “I hope when you look back on the life you lived and the memories you built, you’re happy with the person you’ve become. I hope you’re floored by the simple things in life—a pretty girl smiling at you and only you, the sounds of your friends’ laughter, the way your parents hug you and push you to become a better person. Acing a test you thought you’d bomb. Believing in a person because he wants to be extraordinary, even if he goes about it by putting a cricket into a microwave. Watching a friend bring the fire to chase away the shadows. Fighting to protect others, not because you want to be a hero, but because it’s the right thing to do.

  “I hope you’re brought to your knees by love—love for your family, love for your best friends, love for a girl who believes in you more than anyone else. We’re here, we’re queer, and you better get used to it.”

  They laughed, even while tears streamed down their faces.

  And then Gibby said, “And I hope you remember this time we had together. Maybe it wasn’t the best time for you. Maybe you were ostracized because you were a person of color, or because you were queer, or because you had ADHD. Maybe you kept secrets because you wanted to keep those you loved safe. Maybe you wished high school was over a long time ago. And it is. It’s over. This is an end, but it’s not the end. When you leave here today, look back but remember to look ahead. The future is waiting for all of us, to make of it what we will.” She grinned. “Screw anyone who doesn’t think we’re capable, because we’re gonna make this world a better place, with or without their help. And to those who will try and silence us, a message: you will fail, and fail hard. There is nothing we can’t do. There is nothing I can’t do. And I plan on showing you just that.” She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Uh, that’s it. That’s the end.”

  She squawked in outrage when they all tackled her and landed in a pile on the bleachers. They stayed there in the warm spring sun, holding onto each other.

  Eventually, Nick looked at his friends and said, “We’re alone in this.”

  Gibby glanced over at him, her head in Seth’s lap, her feet on Jazz’s legs, the toe of one of her b
oots pressed against Nick’s thigh. “What do you mean?”

  Nick shrugged. “Everything that’s coming—we can only trust in ourselves and each other. We don’t have the cops. We don’t have a lot of the people. It feels like everyone is against us.”

  Gibby sat up, leaning against Seth, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she drew her knees to her chest. “Bullshit.”

  Nick blinked. “What?”

  “That’s bullshit,” she repeated. “It was never going to be easy. But I promise you there are so many more of us than there are of them. Screw those people. Screw the cops. We know what we are, and what we’re capable of.”

  “She’s right,” Jazz said as she patted Gibby’s arm. “It may feel like we’re alone right now, but it won’t always be that way, so long as we remember what we’re fighting for. And maybe that puts a weight on us that we didn’t ask for, but I know us.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I know we can build the world we want to live in. It’s up to us to see that through.”

  “We can,” Seth agreed, “and we will.” He smiled at Nick. “We owe it to each other and to ourselves.”

  Paths diverged, Nick knew. What was true one day might not be true the next. And yet, when he looked at his friends, he thought they had a point. While he didn’t want to think about the possibility of one day not having these wonderful people in his life, he would never forget what they’d taught him. Maybe that was the point of all of this—to make the most of everything with the time they had. And if there was one thing he’d learned in his short, dramatic life, it was to never let things go unsaid. You never knew when it might be the last time.

  “I love you guys,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

  “Ditto,” Seth said.

  “Ditto twice,” Gibby said.

  “Ditto three times,” Jazz said, and Nick laughed until he could barely breathe.

  * * *

  “Dad!” Nick called when he walked into the house. “You home?”

  “Upstairs!” Dad said from somewhere above him. “All right?”