by TJ Klune
“That’s better,” Jazz said. “I don’t like it when people interrupt my lunch. I’m hungry, and I’m going to eat all of this.”
“I love you so much,” Gibby said, sounding awed.
“As do I,” Nick said, because it was true.
Seth nodded. “Me too.”
“Eh,” Owen said, “I could go either way—what the hell, Gibby? You didn’t have to kick me!”
“Wasn’t her,” Seth said. “And you were being stupid. Ergo, you deserved to be kicked. Repeatedly. In the face.”
Owen winced as he rubbed his shin. “You wound me, Seth.”
Seth smiled at him. “Do I? I feel just awful about it.”
“Oh, I bet you do.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure we will.”
“Are you guys flirting?” Nick asked, glancing between the two of them. Nick didn’t necessarily know how to flirt, or even really what it looked like. It had taken Owen kissing Nick for him to even understand that Owen might have liked him in the first place. He figured he’d have time to learn how to flirt at some point, but in the meantime, he couldn’t be sure what he was witnessing.
Seth gaped at him.
Owen scoffed. “He wishes.”
“I do not!”
“What would it matter to you if they were?” Gibby asked, a strange glint in her eye.
Nick … didn’t know how to answer that, not really. If he was going to say exactly what he was feeling at that moment, it probably would have come out as a strangled snarl, so he kept his mouth shut.
Jazz sighed. “You can lead a blind man to water, but you can’t make him fish.”
“That’s not even remotely how the saying goes,” Gibby told her.
“It’s not?” Jazz frowned. “Then how does it go?”
“I have no idea, babe. But that’s definitely not it.”
“Huh,” Jazz said. She ate another piece of perfectly sliced tomato.
“I hate you,” Nick said, finally remembering how to form words. “You are the absolute worst thing in the entire world.”
“Careful there, Nicky,” Owen said, leaning forward on his elbows. “I might get the idea you still have feelings for me.”
“He doesn’t,” Seth said.
Owen took another one of his carrots and bit into it with his perfect teeth, grinning at Seth. “That right?”
“I’ve decided we’re going to talk about something else,” Nick said, because he didn’t like the way Seth and Owen were staring at each other. If this wasn’t flirting (and Nick was pretty sure about that now—mostly), then it was something else, and he did not want this to turn into a repeat of last spring when things were awkward for everyone involved. The Great Romance of Nick and Owen hadn’t been the best of days. Sure, Owen could do this weird little twisty thing with his tongue, but Nick didn’t think that was the foundation for a long-lasting relationship. “I assume you’re all aware of the latest Shadow Star news.”
Everyone groaned.
Nick ignored them. He was used to it by now. “Once again, he defeated villains who attempted to commit crime in our fair city. I think we need to start another online petition for a solid gold statue to be erected in his honor.”
Gibby snorted. “Speaking of being erected in his honor—”
“Didn’t the last one only get seventeen signatures?” Jazz asked. “And yours were twelve of them, signing it with different names.”
“Right,” Nick said. “But that was before I ascended in popularity with Scorch the Earth. As of this morning, I have the most viewed story in the fandom. And since I’ll probably let the power of being popular in a fandom go to my head, that means I should be able to get what I want.”
“And you want to start another petition,” Owen said, sounding bored.
“Yes. And we could—wait a minute.” Hold the motherfreaking phone.
“Oh no,” Seth moaned. “That’s his realization face.”
“We should probably have more boundaries than we do,” Jazz said as she squinted at Nick.
What had Rebecca Firestone said this morning? Something about— “Burke Tower.”
That got their attention. “What about Burke Tower?” Gibby asked, glancing between Nick and Owen.
“It’s where the gunmen were going,” Nick said excitedly. “They were trying to break into Burke Tower. It was on the news this morning!”
“No, Nick,” Owen said. “It’s—”
Nick stared at Owen with wide eyes. “Owen Burke. Burke Tower. They were trying to break into your father’s building. And Shadow Star was there.”
“Absolutely not,” Owen said, shaking his head. “You leave me out of this. I have nothing to—”
“You have to get me the security tapes! So I can watch them over and over again for my own personal reasons that don’t involve anything weird.”
Seth put his face in his hands.
“You are weird,” Owen said. “And why do you think I would have access to the tapes?”
“Uh, because it’s your father.” What about this did he not understand? It seemed easy enough to Nick.
Owen snorted. “Right, because he listens to anything I say. I don’t even remember the last time I saw him.”
That caught Nick off guard. Owen Burke rarely let anything slip through the facade of douchedom that he’d perfected.
“Oh,” Nick said, suddenly uncomfortable with this tiny sign that Owen might be human after all. “That’s … too bad.” He wasn’t very adept when it came to comforting people he’d made out with. Or, at least, that appeared to be the case. He’d never made out with anyone else. He wondered if he needed to find someone else to make out with and then have them talk about their damaged relationship with their family to make sure.
“Gosh. Thanks, Nicky. Really.”
Nick tried to recover. “Didn’t you go yachting with him in Greece or Daytona?”
“Isn’t Daytona in Florida?” Jazz asked. “How exotic.”
“We were supposed to,” Owen said stiffly, picking at the peeling lunch table. “But he backed out at the last minute, so it was just my stepmom and her assistant who is also her boyfriend. And we weren’t in Greece or Daytona. It was the Bahamas.”
“Whoa,” Nick breathed. “Rich people problems.”
Owen shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t care.”
Nick didn’t think that was quite the truth, but he was nothing if not pragmatic. “Maybe this could be a bonding experience for you and your dad. You know, going over the tapes and then making copies for me. Then you can go outside and toss a football back and forth. Or something.”
“Not going to happen.”
Damn. He’d been so close. “Fine,” Nick said with a weary, put-upon sigh. “I guess I can accept that answer. Though, if you change your mind, I’ll support you completely.”
Owen cocked his head. “Why do you care so much?”
Nick felt the others staring at him. Nick didn’t like where this was going. “About?”
“Shadow Star. Pyro Storm. Extraordinaries.” He said the last word with a curl of derision. “It’s like you’re obsessed with them. They’re not that great.”
Oh, hell no.
“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Seth muttered.
“Not that great?” Nick said shrilly. “Are you out of your mind?”
Owen blinked. “They’re not—”
“Let me tell you something, Owen.”
“Uh, never mind. I take it back.”
“Nope,” Gibby said, grabbing Owen by the arm as he tried to get up. “You started this. You’re going to sit here and accept your punishment. Be thankful lunch is over in fifteen minutes.”
Nick was already revved up. “Extraordinaries are incredible. They can do things that us mere mortals can only dream about. They have secret identities and superpowers and look really good wearing costumes that would probably get a normal person
cited for indecent exposure. And Shadow Star is the best one of them all. He fights for truth and justice and doesn’t take crap from anyone.”
“Big whoop,” Owen muttered.
Nick was pretty sure the only reason he didn’t reach across the table and slap Owen upside the head was because he’d already gotten one detention and didn’t want to risk another. “You shut your whore mouth,” Nick snarled at him.
Owen reared back. “Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Seth said, smiling quietly. “He’s … exuberant.”
That was probably an understatement, especially since Nick was just getting started. “Not that cool? They can manipulate shadows and fire and pose on tops of buildings while the sun sets behind them!”
“He’s given this a lot of thought,” Gibby told Owen.
Nick nodded furiously. “I have. And Shadow Star is brave and gives ice cream to orphans and helps little old ladies with their shopping. He rescues puppies from puppy mills, and one time, he marched with Black Lives Matter because racists are stupid and he hates them so much.”
“Yikes,” Gibby said.
“I don’t know if he did any of that,” Seth said. “That might have been fanfiction, Nicky.”
“Whatever,” Nick said. “Even if he didn’t actually do any of that, I know he would, because that’s the type of person he is. He helps those who can’t help themselves. He keeps Nova City safe, and he is strong and neat, and if you ever say anything bad about him again, I’ll drop-kick you into the Westfield River, and I won’t feel bad about it at all.”
“Isn’t the Westfield River the one with all the sewage that smells like sadness?” Jazz asked.
“Yes,” Nick said fiercely. “I’ll do it. You just watch me.”
“Hmm,” Owen said, and Nick hated that sound.
“Hmm?” he demanded. “What’s this hmm?”
“Dunno.” Owen gave him a smug look. “Sounds like you have a bit of a crush on Shadow Star.”
Yes. Nick absolutely had the world’s biggest crush on Shadow Star. When he was by himself and no one could hear him, he would whisper “Mr. and Mr. Nicholas Shadow Star” into his pillow, but Nick had it under control. He did.
But when his crush was mentioned out loud?
Nick felt his face turning red, tongue thickening in his mouth. His first instinct was to deny, deny, deny, but that would be betraying everything Shadow Star stood for.
So instead, he managed to say, “Uh. Er. Glugh. Blargh.”
Seth stared at him with a strange look on his face.
Owen smiled the way he did when he was about to be a dick. “Eh. I suppose he’s all right. But if we’re going to talk about cool Extraordinaries, we should probably talk about Pyro Storm.”
Which … okay. That was fair. Even though Pyro Storm was technically a villain and caused mayhem and chaos with his dastardly deeds, he was still Shadow Star’s archnemesis, and had to be acknowledged. Plus, he had really muscular thighs, and often posed in ridiculous positions while cackling maniacally. Nick had to appreciate the thighs and the cackling. It seemed like a lot of work. Nick’s own thighs were sticklike, and when he tried to cackle, he sounded like a chicken watching the eggs it’d laid being turned into omelets.
“I’ll allow it,” Nick said begrudgingly. “Pyro Storm is cool, even if he’s a bad guy.”
Owen arched an eyebrow. “Why does anyone have to be bad? What if we’re all misunderstood?”
Nick glared at him. “You really can’t believe that. It’s black and white. There’s no in between. Good is good. Evil is evil. One is a jerk who burns things because he’s a pyromaniac or something. The other is a paragon of virtue who saves people and controls shadows and climbs walls.” That was Nick’s favorite part, and it should be everyone else’s.
“Pyro Storm does control fire,” Owen said. “And Shadow Star is all about the shadows. One is dark. The other burns it away. It’s poignant, if you think about it. Opposites.”
“You’re so dumb,” Seth muttered. “Life isn’t a comic book. Extraordinaries aren’t everything. So what if they can do things others can’t? That doesn’t make them more special than the rest of us. It doesn’t work like that.”
Owen leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Then why don’t you tell us how it does work, Seth? Seeing as how you apparently know better than the rest of us.”
Nick didn’t quite know what was going on. Were they still flirting? God, he hoped not. “Maybe we should—”
Owen flashed that dangerous grin again, all teeth. “It seems our Seth here thinks all this Extraordinary stuff is dumb. How do you feel about that, Nicky?”
If there was one thing Nick hated aside from having to console someone whom he’d made out with or being faced with his crush on an Extraordinary, it was being put on the spot. His brain tended to misfire more often than it didn’t, and he was feeling a little dizzy. “Um. Well.”
Everyone waited.
Instant flop sweat. “You both made good points,” Nick said hastily. “And while I normally am so on board with picking sides, I don’t know that I can, at this moment in time, without more data.”
Seth stood abruptly, glaring at Owen, who smiled lazily up at him. “I have to go,” he said through gritted teeth.
And with that, he grabbed his backpack and headed toward the exit.
Nick stared after him, wondering what the hell had happened. Since when did Seth feel so strongly about Extraordinaries? Normally, he indulged Nick’s diatribes about them, but to get this upset? It wasn’t like him.
“Go after him,” Gibby snapped. “You can’t let him walk away like that.”
Owen snorted. “He’s throwing one of his fits. Let him be. He’ll get over it. He always does.”
“Do you remember that time about ten minutes ago when I nearly broke that jock’s fingers?” Jazz asked him sweetly. “I can show you what would have happened if he hadn’t apologized, if you want.”
Owen paled.
“Go,” Gibby said to Nick, jerking her head in the direction Seth had gone.
“Going,” Nick said. He shouldered his backpack as he stood, glancing down at the others.
Owen winked at him.
Nick flipped him off before following his best friend out of the cafeteria.
4
When Nick was six years old, he met a boy who was sitting on the swings by himself. Nick was new at school and didn’t know anyone. He was wary of the other kids because they were loud and got finger paint on everything, and Nick hated finger painting.
There were two sets of swings. One looked brand new and everyone was shouting around it, taking turns, and the chains squeaked to the point where it sounded like they were screaming. Nick wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
There was another set of swings toward the rear of the playground. These swings were ancient. The seats were made of cracked plastic, and the chains looked like they belonged in a castle dungeon. But it was quiet, and it helped Nick’s head to clear and gave him a moment to think since no one ever used those swings.
Except on this day, there was another kid there, sitting on one of the swings, the tips of his shoes barely scraping the ground. He was chubby, and he wore a sweater and khakis. He was eating from a pudding cup. For a brief second, Nick thought about trying to find somewhere else to make his head stop spinning.
But then the boy looked up at him, and he had a smear of chocolate on his upper lip that resembled a sticky mustache, so Nick said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” the boy said quietly.
Nick had never introduced himself to anyone before. He’d always had his mom or dad there to do it for him. But they weren’t here now, and Mom said he had to be brave like Wonder Woman and Thor, and so he squared his shoulders and said, “My name is Nicholas Bell. It’s very nice to meet you.”
The boy stared at him.
Nick frowned, unsure if he’d gotten it wrong. He’d thought it had sounded just like Mom and Dad did when they said it, but the b
oy was looking at him like he was speaking another language entirely.
“Um,” Nick said. “So.”
The boy looked behind him. Nick did too. There was no one there.
The boy turned back around. “Are you talking to me?” he asked in a small voice.
Nick nodded. “I think so.”
“Okay. I’m Seth. Seth Gray.”
It was a nice name. Nick kicked at the dirt. “Those other kids were loud.”
“I know. S’why I’m over here.”
Nick felt relieved at that. “I don’t like loud kids.”
“Me either.”
“Or finger painting.”
The kid made a face. “It gets everywhere.”
“Right? S’not cool.”
“Not cool,” the kid echoed.
“Can I swing with you?” Nick asked nervously. He thought it was going well, but one couldn’t be too sure about such things.
The boy nodded, licking his pudding mustache away.
“Awesome,” Nick said.
“Yeah,” the boy said, watching Nick climb onto the swing. “Awesome.”
Nick tried to start swinging, but he wasn’t very good at it yet. Mom said he’d get there, but it would take practice. He gave up after a few seconds.
“I can’t swing either,” the boy said.
“It’s hard,” Nick agreed. “My dad is a policeman, and he says that he couldn’t swing until he was, like, eight or something.”
The boy looked amazed. Nick liked that. “He’s a policeman? With a badge?”
Nick shrugged, playing it cool. “Yeah. I get to wear it sometimes.” Nick absolutely did not get to wear it, but it was fun to pretend he did. “He has a utility belt like Batman does.” Nick tried to kick his legs and swing again but failed. “He’s pretty much Batman, now that I think about it.”
“Wow,” the boy said. “That’s awesome. My aunt is a nurse. And my uncle fixes buildings and is a meter maid. He says he’s a meter butler, because girls are maids.”
Nick frowned. “Boys can be anything girls can. And girls can be anything boys can. My mom says that sometimes, boys can even be girls.”
Nick thought the boy’s eyes were going to pop out of his head. “That’s so cool.”