The Extraordinaries

by TJ Klune

  “It’s not like that, I swear! I didn’t—”

  “Did you, or did you not, have contact with Shadow Star?”

  And oh, Dad was angry. “It’s not a big deal,” Nick managed to say, hating the way his eyes were already starting to burn. He’d never been able to control his emotions in the face of his father’s anger. It was extremely rare to see Dad this pissed off, so much so that Nick could probably count the number of times it’d happened on one hand. And even then, this was only the second time it’d been directed toward him. The last time had been after the Owen debacle. He hated how easily he cracked right down the middle. “I swear, Dad. It wasn’t—”

  Dad closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. “I’m going to give you this one chance. That’s it. You better take it, Nick. Or you can expect a whole lotta changes around here that you won’t like.”

  Nick’s breath hitched in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. His voice broke when he said, “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just—it was the first day of school. I was late coming home because I’d gotten detention—”

  “You what?”

  Crap. He hadn’t meant to say that. He needed to power through. “And it was raining and Gibby was with me and the train was delayed. We were taking a shortcut, okay? That’s all it was. And these guys came and tried to mug us, and Shadow Star kicked their asses, and that was it. I promise. That’s all that happened.”

  Dad’s eyes flashed open. “You were mugged and you didn’t think to tell me?”

  Nick gripped the edges of the table. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Really,” Dad snapped. “Or did you not want me to find out about getting in trouble on your first day back?”

  “That wasn’t my fault either! Mr. Hanson was trying to stifle me!”

  Dad stood, his chair scraping on the floor. “We talked about this. You need to start taking some responsibility, Nick. You can’t keep trying to blame others for the things you do. How the hell are you going to grow up when you keep pulling this crap? Are you trying to make things harder for us?”

  Nick blinked rapidly. “I’m not—”

  Dad began to pace, shoulders stiff. “Because I asked you for this one thing. For this year to be different. For you to do everything you could to be the best possible person you could be. And all I’m seeing here is that it’s more of the same.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you,” Nick said bitterly, wiping his eyes.

  “Dammit, kid. First it was Owen, and I let it go. And then it’s this—this Shadow Star, and this weird obsession you have with him. I just don’t—why do you have to be this way? Why do you have to be the way you are?”

  Nick knew the power of words. He knew that sometimes when they landed, they exploded with the force of a carelessly tossed grenade.

  Nick heard what his father said. He heard every word. They exploded at his feet and shredded his skin. It’d turned so quickly. They’d been laughing only a few minutes before. He didn’t know how he’d lost control of the conversation this fast.

  He stood slowly, eyes wide and shocked. He stared at the table, unable to meet his father’s gaze. He didn’t want to see that look on his face anymore, anger mixed with disappointment, all directed at him. It hurt. Everything hurt.

  “Crap,” Dad whispered. Then, “Look. Kid. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m tired.”

  Nick nodded stiffly but didn’t speak.

  “I…” Dad sounded frustrated. “I just need you to do better. I just need you to be better. Can you do that? For me?”

  Nick nodded again.

  “Hey, Nick. Look at me. I’m—”

  “I’ve got to go,” Nick said hoarsely. “I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now. And I’d hate to disappoint you again.”

  Dad sighed. “Come on, Nicky. Would you just—” He heard his father take a step toward him.

  Nick took a step back.

  “Okay,” Dad said stiffly. “If that’s—okay.”

  Nick turned and left.

  * * *

  He was on the train, surrounded by people and staring blankly ahead when his phone buzzed. Nick thought about ignoring it.

  He pulled it out of his pocket.

  A text from his dad.

  He really thought about ignoring it.

  But maybe it was an apology. Maybe it was Dad saying he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it, that he was just fine with the way Nick was, that he didn’t need him to be anything more.

  He opened the message.

  You forgot to take your pill this morning. Called the school. Nurse will have your dose. See her before class.

  And that was it.

  Nick deleted the message before sliding the phone back in his pocket.

  The train car rocked gently beneath his feet.

  * * *

  He didn’t wait for the others at Franklin Street. He didn’t want to see anyone. Not when his head was messed up. His skin felt too tight, and it was like his nerves were electrified. His thoughts jumped too quickly, and he couldn’t focus. He tapped his fingers against his hip as he walked.

  * * *

  He went directly to the nurse when he got to school.

  She had his pill waiting for him.

  She smiled as she handed it over with a tiny paper cup filled with water.

  Nick swallowed down, opening his mouth when she asked to check.

  “Have a good day,” she said cheerfully.

  * * *

  Gibby and Jazz were at the lunch table when he walked into the cafeteria. “Hey,” Jazz said, looking up at him. “Missed you this morning.”

  “Sorry,” Nick said, keeping his voice even. “Was early and didn’t feel like sticking around.”

  Gibby rolled her eyes. “Maybe send us a text letting us know next time. We were almost late, waiting for you.”

  “Didn’t think. Sorry.” He looked around. “Where’s Seth? Or Owen?”

  “Seth texted this morning on our thread,” Jazz said, tilting her head at Nick. “Said he wasn’t feeling well and was staying home today. Don’t know where Owen is. He’ll show up when he feels like it, I’m sure.”

  “Sick?” Nick asked. “He was fine yesterday.” When he’d kissed Nick on the cheek and then run away to save the animals from the flooding. Nick had almost forgotten about it with everything that had happened since then.

  Gibby coughed. “Must have been those cats he had to save, or whatever. Ferals carry all kinds of weird crap.”

  “He’s sick with a cat disease?” Jazz asked. “I wonder if he’ll cough up a hairball.”

  That startled a laugh out of Nick. “Oh, man, that would be so gross. And awesome.”

  Gibby squeezed Jazz’s hand. “I’m not sure that’s quite how it works.”

  Jazz rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who said he got sick because of feral cats.”

  “I know. And I accept any and all blame. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Probably will be back by tomorrow.”

  Nick tugged at a hangnail on his finger. “I’ll go see him after school. Make sure he’s not dying.”

  Gibby hesitated. “You sure that’s a good idea? He might be contagious.”

  “Eh. I eat a lot of oranges.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat an orange in the entire time I’ve known you,” Jazz said. “And speaking of, why aren’t you eating?”

  He’d stormed out of the house without grabbing his lunch because his dad wished he was someone different. “Forgot it. And I was supposed to remind Dad to add money to my lunch account, but I forgot.”

  “You can have some of mine,” Jazz said. “I have chicken and avocado salad with lime and cilantro. There’s also bread and olive oil.”

  “I’ve got cold pizza and an apple,” Gibby said, peering into her own lunch bag. “Should be more than enough to go around.”

  Nick shrugged. “Not that hungry.”

  Jazz narrowed her eyes
at him. “You will eat our food with us, Nicky. And you’ll like it.”

  “All right, all right. Twist my arm, why don’t ya.” He grimaced. “On second thought, please don’t do that. You’re much stronger than I am.”

  “As long as we have an understanding,” she said primly, spreading her cloth napkin in her lap.

  Gibby handed him a piece of pizza. Jazz put chicken and avocado on top of it. It tasted disgusting, but it made him feel a little bit better. “Neither of you have heard from Owen?”

  Jazz shook her head. “But that’s not weird, right? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a text from him.”

  “Me either,” Gibby said.

  Nick frowned. “He texts me all the time.”

  Gibby rolled her eyes. “That’s because he wants to suck your—”

  “No need to be crude while we’re eating,” Jazz told her.

  “Oh, I didn’t know we were so civilized here at our metal lunch table surrounded by screaming teenagers. I shan’t forget again, Your Majesty.”

  “I saw him yesterday,” Nick said suddenly. “When I was late. His dad dropped him off.”

  Jazz’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “You saw Simon Burke? Here?”

  “Yeah. And it was weird too. They were arguing.” Maybe not that weird. Nick had done just the same with his father that very morning. “I don’t know. It looked intense. Whatever it was, Owen told me he was skipping the rest of the day. Guess he decided to do it today too.”

  Gibby snorted. “And he tried to make you go with him, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but I said no. I’m—it’s not like that. Not anymore.”

  “Did Simon Burke see you?” Jazz asked.

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “He’s scary. At least that’s what my dad says. He’s ruthless. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. I only met him once, but it was a long time ago. He didn’t seem very nice to me.”

  “That’s probably how one gets to be a super rich CEO,” Gibby said. “You gotta be able to squash the little guy. Owen’s pretty much on his way already, isn’t he?”

  “Hey,” Nick said, feeling weirdly defensive. “Owen’s not that bad.” He paused, considering. “Okay, maybe he is, but he’s not like his father. That guy gives me the creeps.”

  “Sure, Nicky. Whatever you say.” She took a bite of pepperoni and olive. “How’s Phase Two going?”

  Phase Two was pretty much dead in the water, but he needed to keep the faith. “There aren’t any meteor showers in the near future. And I think that most of the nuclear power plants near here are probably under armed guard.”

  “That’s just unfair,” Jazz said. “Don’t they know all you want is a little radiation poisoning?”

  Thank god for Jazz. “Right? It’s not like I’d be hurting anyone.”

  “Except for yourself,” Gibby said. “Like, what if instead of giving you powers, it made all your teeth fall out and your eyelids melt?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to blink,” Jazz told him. “Or eat solid foods. And you’d probably grow tumors all over your body. I don’t know if I could be seen in public with someone who had no teeth or eyelids and a lot of tumors due to self-inflicted radiation poisoning. I do have a reputation to maintain.”

  “Hate to break it to you,” Gibby said, “but your reputation was pretty much shot when you decided to take up with the likes of us. We aren’t exactly the top of the food chain. I don’t even know if we’re on the food chain.”

  “More like the flies that surround the predators at the top of the food chain,” Nick said.

  “I suppose,” Jazz said. “But I think it’s better to be real with you than fake with everyone else.”

  Nick gaped at her.

  “What?” she asked him.

  He shook his head slowly. “I just—huh.”

  “Is that a good huh?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re awesome. You sound like a fortune cookie.”

  She looked pleased. “Why, thank you. I like the way they taste.”

  Gibby grinned at her. “She’s pretty great, right?” She glanced at Nick. “But it’s probably for the best about the meteors and the power plants.”

  Well … yeah, but still. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “You saw the way Pyro Storm and Shadow Star were going after each other last night. Don’t tell me you didn’t. You turned your TV on as soon as you got home. And licked the screen.”

  Nick scowled at her. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “It’s dangerous,” Gibby said gently. “The way they were fighting was just … brutal. How could you want to be a part of that?”

  “It’s not about that—”

  “Of course it is. Maybe not all of it, but it’s a big part. There’s always going to be something bad with all the good. You can’t be a hero without there being a villain.”

  “I think he can do it,” Jazz said. “If anyone is capable of it, it’s Nick. He’d probably end up being the best Extraordinary there was.”

  “Thank you, Jazz,” Nick said, glaring at Gibby. “It’s nice to know I have at least one person on my side.”

  Gibby shook her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay? But you’re not exactly known for your follow-through.”

  Nick bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “He took it the wrong way,” Jazz whispered to Gibby.

  Gibby ignored her. “It means you get an idea in your head, and then run with it full tilt before getting distracted by something else entirely. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just part of who you are.”

  He knew she wasn’t being mean. He knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. He knew. But Dad’s voice was still ringing in his ears from their fight that morning, and it almost sounded like Gibby was echoing what he had said. And that wasn’t fair. “I can do things,” Nick snapped at her.

  She held up her hands. “Whoa, I never said you couldn’t. I’m just saying—”

  “I can do anything I put my mind to.”

  “I know—”

  “I don’t like it when you tell me that I can’t. I don’t like it when people think I’m not capable of doing things. Because I am. I know I talk a lot, and I know my brain makes me do or say things that people don’t always get, but that doesn’t make the things I want any less important.”

  Jazz and Gibby both looked taken aback. “I’m … sorry?” Gibby said. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. It’s—”

  Jazz wasn’t exactly subtle with the elbow she thrust into Gibby’s side. “You okay, Nick? You seem a little off today. More growly than usual.” She bared her teeth at Nick and made her hands into claws. “Grr.”

  Nick wished Seth were here. Even if he’d kissed Nick on the cheek and confused the hell out of him, Seth would know what to say to make things better. Sometimes, when Nick got so frustrated he didn’t know how to form words, Seth would step in and speak for him and make things all right again. That was his superpower. The Nick Whisperer. Of all the days for Seth to be sick. “I’m fine,” Nick said, mustering up a smile that stretched too thin. “I’m just tired.”

  Jazz frowned at him. “You need to take care of yourself.”

  “I’m trying.” He looked at Gibby. And because he knew she wasn’t the type to back down, she met his gaze. “I can do this,” he told her. “You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to. And that’s okay. But I can be more than I am. I can become something better. Something more.”

  She looked troubled. “Why do you have to be an Extraordinary to be better? Why can’t you just be extraordinary with what you already have?”

  Nick didn’t want to hear it. Gibby didn’t understand. “Let me have this, okay? I don’t ask you for much, but I’m asking you for this.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Sure, Nicky. Yeah. Of course. I mean, anything you want, you know? I’ve got your back.”

  “Good,” he said.
“Because Phrase Three is going to start soon, and I know it’s going to work. It has to. I’m going to become something unlike anything Nova City has ever seen.”

  And if he proved everyone wrong in the process?

  Well, that would be just fine.

  * * *

  He was walking to class when he pulled his phone out of his pocket. There were messages from Jazz and Gibby from that morning, asking where he was, if he was running late. There was a message from Seth in their group thread, saying he was sick. Jazz and Gibby had told him to feel better.

  Dad hadn’t texted again. That stung, but Nick pushed it away.

  He pulled up the text thread he had with Seth.

  U sick?

  The response came almost immediately. Yeah. Nothing bad. Just a cold. You okay? Gibby & Jazz said you didn’t show this morning.

  Fine. Just early. U sure its not feral cat disease?

  What? What are you talking about? What cats?

  The ones u went to help yesterday w the flooding. Nick almost added after you kissed my cheek, but didn’t. One thing at a time.

  No, Nick. It’s not a feral cat disease.

  Thank Jebus. U can’t die.

  I won’t. No need to come over. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Class. Later!

  No need to come over? That was certainly an invitation if Nick had ever heard one.

  10

  Bob and Martha Gray lived in an old neighborhood along a row of lovingly maintained brownstones. Bob was the brother of Seth’s father, and after Seth’s parents passed, Bob and his wife, Martha, had taken in Seth and made a home for him. They’d never had kids of their own, but they had room in their house and hearts, and Seth was given a place to grieve and grow. Martha was a retired nurse, and Bob still worked as a super for an apartment building uptown, his life as a meter butler years behind him. Nick knew their home almost as well as he knew his own, though he hadn’t been over in a long while.