by TJ Klune
Gibby made a sound like she was choking behind him.
Nick widened his eyes in terror as Mustache Man slammed against the wall, slumping down on top of Male Pattern Baldness.
Shadow Star lowered his leg. “Did you just … kiss my head?”
Nick forgot how to human. To his horror, he fell back on old habits with the sound he made: that of an amorous elk in the Pacific Northwest, bleating and terrible.
Gibby, struggling to breathe, said, “Why is nobody else here to witness this?”
Gathering what was left of his wits, Nick said, “Um. No?”
“Oh,” Shadow Star said. “Because I could have sworn you kissed the side of my head.”
“Nope,” Nick said, thankful that it was still raining, so no one could see that his entire body was on its way to being covered in flop sweat. “I didn’t do that. That would be weird.”
“A little,” Shadow Star said.
“And I respect your agency,” Nick said.
“Thank … you?”
“You’re welcome,” Nick said, wishing that Pyro Storm would appear right at that very moment and try and destroy Nova City so Nick could perish in a wave of fire. It would be easier than trying to get through the next two minutes. He glanced up quickly. Nothing. Apparently, supervillains only cared about death and destruction when Nick wasn’t making an ass of himself. Goddamn Pyro Storm.
Shadow Star pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I should probably take these guys down to the nearest precinct.”
To which Nick said, “Yes, I know how the law works. My dad’s a cop. So. Ten-four.”
Gibby sounded like she had somehow transformed into a rather large manatee and was trying to sing the song of her people, a sonorous wheeze that lasted far longer than Nick thought was necessary.
“Is he?” Shadow Star said politely. “That’s great. Nova City’s finest do good work. You must be proud of him.”
“So proud,” Nick said. Then, “I have your poster in my room. Can I have your autograph?”
“You want me to come into your room and sign your poster?” Shadow Star asked, eyes widening behind his mask.
Yes. Absolutely. Nick wanted that more than anything in the world, but he could see why that sounded a little creepy. “Uh. No? No! Those were two independent thoughts that sounded like they were one. Ha ha. That would be weird, right? Inviting you over to my room when you don’t even know me. Did I tell you my name? It’s Nick. Not that that means you know me now. I’m very complex underneath. Like, what you see isn’t what you get. Not that you’re trying to get anything! Ha ha. You can autograph my … something.”
“Like your boobs,” Gibby said.
Nick nodded. “Yes, like my boo—” Pyro Storm could show up anytime now. That’d be just great with Nick. Hopefully, he’d take out Gibby first. “No,” he said forcefully, causing Shadow Star to jump back as if he was startled. “Not my b— That’s … I don’t even have—” The ground didn’t open up and swallow him whole, no matter how hard he wished it. “I have paper. And a pen. You can use that.”
“It’s raining,” Shadow Star pointed out.
“You’re so smart,” Nick said in awe.
Then Gibby was standing next to him again, a smile on her face that Nick knew he should be terrified of but couldn’t muster the strength since he was still dazed. She put the umbrella over them and said cheerfully, “There. That’s better. Now you can sign Nick’s something without it getting wet. Even though Nick probably already is.”
“So wet,” Nick agreed.
Gibby manateed again. Nick promised silently that he’d have his revenge against her in this life, or the next.
He took his backpack from Gibby, reaching in to find his notebook. He managed to get it out without much struggle. He couldn’t find his Spider-Man pen, but Gibby was there to help him as his hands were shaking. She handed Shadow Star a pen before turning around and motioning that he could use her back as a surface to sign his name. Nick was instantly jealous because he wanted to feel the pen pressing into his skin when Shadow Star wrote on the paper. But he still had at least a little of his wits about him, so he was able to stop himself from shoving Gibby away and taking her place.
Shadow Star put the paper on her back and signed his name. He looked like he had nice hands under his skintight gloves.
“There we go,” Shadow Star said. “If that’s all—”
“Oh,” Gibby said as she stood upright again. “We can’t let you go without getting a picture. Right, Nicky? Don’t you want a picture with Shadow Star?”
Nick’s brain short-circuited.
He said, “I. Can’t. Think.”
“Yeah,” Gibby said. “He wants a picture.”
“Okay,” Shadow Star said. “But just one. I need to get these guys behind bars before they wake up.” He turned his face toward the sky. “And the city is calling for me. I need to keep her safe. There is a shroud of shadows over her.”
“Oh my god,” Nick whispered. No one could ever tell him again that fanfiction wasn’t a realistic artistic expression, not with Shadow Star spouting off lines from Nick’s imagination.
Gibby rolled her eyes. “Yikes. That was … I don’t know what that was. Nick, you want to use your phone for—”
Nick shoved his phone at her. He hadn’t even realized it’d already been in his hand. He didn’t even care that it was getting wet. Nothing else mattered at this moment.
She stepped back, taking the umbrella with her.
Nick was rained on immediately. That was fine. Wet everything was fine because he was standing next to Shadow Star. It could have been raining acid, and he wouldn’t have complained.
“Okay,” Gibby said. “Get close, you guys.”
Nick squeaked but managed to cover it up with a cough. He scooted sideways until he was firmly pressed up against Shadow Star. He didn’t turn to look at him so he wouldn’t accidentally kiss the side of his head again.
“Nick, you look like you’re in pain. You need to smile.”
Nick smiled.
“And now you look like you’re about to eat baby animals. Dial it back.”
Nick dialed it back.
“There we go,” Gibby said. “Shadow Star, you don’t need to smile because you’re brooding and deep or whatever.”
“Exactly,” Shadow Star said. “I breathe the shadows of the dark, and—”
“Everyone say I think Nick is super cute!”
“I think Nick is super cute,” Shadow Star and Nick said at the same time.
Gibby took the picture as Nick realized what had come out of Shadow Star’s mouth.
“You said I’m super cute,” he said in awe, blaming puberty for the way his voice cracked.
“That’s not—that’s what she told me to say.” Shadow Star sounded flustered.” I’m not—”
“So you don’t think he’s cute?” Gibby asked.
Yes, that. The most important question that had ever been asked in the history of humanity. Nick waited on pins and needles for Shadow Star to either confess his love or break his heart.
Shadow Star did neither. Instead, he said, “The dark heart of the city pulses beneath my feet. Its blood is calling for me. I have to go.”
And with that, the lights burst to life on his wrist. He pointed them at Mustache Man and Male Pattern Baldness. Their shadows grew on the walls behind them. Shadow Star grunted, and the shadows reached down and grabbed the would-be muggers, pulling them up the side of the building. Shadow Star crouched low before springing upward, landing on the wall, dark shades holding him against the brick as he ran after the criminals. He disappeared over the rooftop and was gone.
Nick stared up after him, blinking the rain away.
“You’re welcome,” Gibby told him, shoving his phone into his hand. “Now, can we go? Watching you get a boner in an alley that smells like feet is not how I expected to spend my afternoon. I need a shower.”
5
The first thing he did
when he got home was lean against the door and run a hand through his wet hair.
The second thing he did was laugh hysterically.
The third thing he did was run up the stairs to his room and hug the pillow with Shadow Star’s face on it.
The fourth thing he did was pull out the autograph.
It read,
Nicholas Bell,
Always remember to keep to the shadows!
Shadow Star
The fifth thing he did was lie back on his bed, a smile on his face.
The sixth thing he did was sit back up and dig through his bag furiously until he found his phone.
There it was, saved in his photo album next to at least thirty pics he’d taken in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to track if he was gaining any muscles in his arms from the few times he’d tried to lift weights (five-pound barbells did nothing).
Shadow Star glowered at the camera as he stood next to Nick, who looked as if his smile was trying to eat his face. Or at least Nick thought he was glowering since it’d be what he did, but he couldn’t be sure. Shadow Star’s face was almost completely covered by his mask, with only his mouth visible.
Nick stared at it for a good thirty-six minutes. The picture, not Shadow Star’s mouth. Mostly.
Then he clutched the phone to his chest and sighed happily. He had to tell everyone.
Except he couldn’t tell everyone.
Right? He couldn’t, because it would get back to Dad that he’d been in an alley after leaving school late. And he was only at school late because he’d gotten detention. On the first day. And he promised his father he’d do better. That and the fact that he’d almost been stabbed in the face with a knife, and Dad probably wouldn’t let him do anything by himself ever again, much like he hadn’t let Nick go into a bank by himself since—
Well. Since his mom had entered a bank a few months after their trip to the lighthouse. Four minutes after she’d passed through the doors, three men wearing armor and carrying guns followed.
Six people died that day. A security guard. Two of the gunmen. An elderly man named Bill who came in at least three times a week to make a deposit, but usually used it as an excuse to chat up the pretty bank tellers. A woman named Ella who was meeting with her broker.
And Jenny Bell.
Nick looked at the picture on his desk.
She was there like she always was, her head on his shoulder. “I met him,” he said quietly. “Mom, I met him.”
She was smiling.
But she was gone. Nick knew that. She wasn’t real, not anymore. And he needed to tell someone, right? A person couldn’t go through a life-changing event of monumental proportions and not tell someone.
That was why best friends existed. For moments exactly like this.
He called Seth.
“You’ve reached Seth’s voicemail. I’m probably busy. And nobody calls anyone anymore unless it’s an emergency. Send a text. Unless it’s an emergency.”
“This is an emergency,” Nick hissed after the beep. “What could you possibly be doing right now that you can’t pick up the phone when I call to tell you something that will forever alter the course of my history? Seth! I demand you call me back immediately! The only way I’ll forgive you is if you’re taking a nap because you were so tired earlier today. Also, I hope you’re having a good afternoon and that you didn’t get rained on too much because I know you get sick easily, and I don’t like it when you’re sick. This is Nick. Bye.”
He thought about calling Jazz, but she was probably still shaking her groove thang, or whatever it was that cheerleaders did.
He didn’t need to call Gibby, because she’d been there. And also because she’d told him before they parted that he was not allowed to call her about this tonight because she didn’t want to hear him gushing about Shadow Star for the billionth time.
He almost called Owen, but that was probably a bad idea. Owen still made him feel weird when they talked on the phone, and he wasn’t in the mood to hear Owen do that dumb flirting thing he did.
Instead, he put the phone beside him and stared at it, thinking as hard as he could at it so Seth would call him back.
It didn’t work, and fifteen minutes later, Nick had the beginnings of a headache.
He picked the phone back up, looking at the photo of him and Shadow Star for longer than was healthy.
He texted his dad, letting him know that everything was five-by-five and that he was doing his homework, even though homework on the first day of school was the equivalent of Christmas getting canceled and being replaced by a mayonnaise enema. He thought it was dramatic enough so Dad wouldn’t know he’d already done his homework in detention.
He stared at his phone some more.
He thought about posting the photo on Tumblr. It would set the fandom on fire and would add to the validity of his fic. After all, he’d breathed the same air as Shadow Star now, which meant he understood the Extraordinary better than anyone else in the fandom. Do it. Just do it. Let them all see he wrote from experience, which was what every author worth their salt should do.
He overthought it. It might be using his position as Shadow Star’s most incredible rescue to increase his popularity, and he never wanted to use Shadow Star for anything.
Well. Maybe for a few things that shouldn’t be said out loud because in all seriousness, Nick was sort of a prude when it came down to it.
His phone still hadn’t rung. His stomach rumbled.
“Fine,” he growled, his voice almost like Shadow Star’s. “I’ll go downstairs and forget how I have no one to tell this to, even though I’m never going to be the same again.”
He needed new friends. But the idea of trying to make new friends sounded terrible, so he decided to keep the ones he had, even if they did things like not call him back when he wanted them to.
He stood from the bed and was about to head down the stairs when his phone lit up and started ringing. He dove for it immediately.
“Did you get my message?” he asked breathlessly. “You’re not going to believe what happened to me. Like, it was the greatest thing that has ever happened to anyone in the history of ever. Not even the advent of the Industrial Age can compare. You’ll never guess. Okay. Start guessing.”
The person on the other end of the phone sighed. “Do I even want to know?”
Nick pulled the phone away from his ear in horror.
The screen said DADDIO.
He gave very serious thought to hanging up right then and there. And running away. He’d have to get a new identity. And a job on a barge. He’d grow a beard, and when someone tried to get close to him, he’d shut down and become distant because he could never know the touch of another.
But since he couldn’t be sure he even knew what a barge was exactly, he put the phone back to his ear and, trying to act like absolutely nothing had changed, said, “Hey, Pops. What’s the haps? What’s the 411?”
There was a beat of silence. Then, “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Nick said quickly and believably. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I’m doing is sitting here at home where I’m supposed to be on a school night, doing my homework. Soon, I’ll go downstairs and eat something healthy and go to bed early since everyone knows children need a good night’s sleep in order to function—”
“Nicky.”
Nick sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“I left you your pill on the counter. You need to take it, okay? You sound a little wired.”
And didn’t that just put a damper on things. “I’m not—”
“Nicky.”
“I’m allowed to be excited and happy,” Nick muttered. His headache was getting worse.
Dad made a sound that was either annoyed or exhausted, Nick didn’t know which. It hurt either way. “No one’s saying you aren’t. In fact, you being excited and happy is one of my favorite things in the world. But I want to make sure we’re being saf
e about it. I’m not trying to take that away from you.”
“It feels like it. Sometimes.” Nate picked at his comforter. He knew Dad was right. The adrenaline of the afternoon was already working its way out of his system, and he felt himself crashing.
“You trust me?”
Of course he did. There was no one he trusted more. “Yeah.”
“Good. And you know we’re working on me trusting you again. You’ve done a lot of good lately, Nicky. I’m proud of you. I want you happy above anything else. And I know how you get, sometimes. It’s okay to be that way. But if we can make it better for you, then we should do that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Now, what’s the greatest thing to have happened to anyone that not even the advent of the Industrial Age can compare to?”
“Um,” Nick said, because regardless of what else he was, Nicholas Bell was a terrible liar, and his father was a living, breathing polygraph machine. “Well, you see—”
Nick heard a voice in the background. Then, his dad said, “Dammit. Sorry, kid. Call came in. I’ve got to go.”
And even though Nick knew it was his job, his heart still thumped terribly in his chest. “Okay. Be careful. Text me when it’s done.”
“Will do. Do your homework. Take your pill. I love you, and I’ll see you for breakfast.”
“Love you too.”
And then Dad was gone.
* * *
Nick stared at the pill on the counter as the lasagna turned in the microwave.
“I’ll take you,” he told it seriously. “But this is only temporary. You better not get used to it.”
The pill didn’t respond, but Nick didn’t expect it to. If it had, he probably would have run screaming from the house.
The microwave dinged.
Nick picked up the pill and put it in his mouth. He grimaced as he dry-swallowed it. “There,” he mumbled. “Hooray.”
He believed his dad when he’d said all he’d wanted was for Nick to be happy. He really did. It was just—sometimes, Nick’s happiness led to Nick’s excitement which transformed into things becoming a little too much for Nick to handle. It’d been explained to both of them in terms Nick could understand that his body was like a cell phone: the more apps he used and left open, the quicker the battery drained. Or, even worse (because apparently the doctor lived for metaphors, the quack) his brain was a Ferrari, built for speed, except it had the brakes of a bicycle.