by TJ Klune
“Who sold it to you?”
Nick pulled his phone out again, ready to prove Gibby wrong. He pulled up his eBay account. “I’ll show you. And I’ll accept your apology when you’re ready. And since I’m such a nice guy, I won’t even make you grovel. And … okay. Hold on. Service here sucks. It’s still loading. God, that smell is terrible. I can’t believe I’m about to—aha. See. The seller is Veronica B. Dazzled, and her bio says she is known for her dramatic improv, death drops, and high kicks, spilling tea, and being the biggest star in Milwaukee. You can also see her perform her one-woman show, The Queen and I, on Wednesdays and Fridays at—oh goddammit, she’s a drag queen.”
“It’s moments like these when I relish our friendship,” Gibby said.
“Whatever,” Nick said, putting his phone away. “That doesn’t change a thing. For all we know, Veronica B. Dazzled could be some kind of drag queen witch or sorceress, and this ring is actually a magical decoder ring meant to find one person to wear it so the ring’s power can fill the wearer and make them into an Extraordinary. And I am going to put it on right here, right now. Prepare yourselves!”
Jazz took a step back.
Gibby looked at her. “Really?”
“He’s good at selling it. I almost believe him.”
Gibby sighed. “I can’t believe this is how I’m choosing to spend my weekend.”
Nick held his hands over his head, the ring clutched in the left, his pointer finger extended on his right. “Please work,” he whispered before he closed his eyes and slid the ring onto his finger.
He was not overwhelmed with power the moment he wore it.
He waited.
Nothing.
He opened one eye, looking at Gibby and Jazz. “Am I glowing?”
They shook their heads.
“Am I wearing some kind of costume now?”
They shook their heads again.
“Do I look different at all?”
“Well,” Gibby said. “I suppose the ring suits you better than I thought it would. Maybe you could do the whole drag queen thing after all.”
“I paid thirty-seven dollars for this! Plus shipping!”
“Well, according to this website I found,” Jazz said, staring down at her phone, “maybe this will help. You’ll need to answer a few questions.”
“You found a website about how to make magical decoder rings work?” Nick demanded. “How? I spent hours trying to find one!”
She shrugged. “Maybe. First question: How would you define your sense of style?”
“Different and sexy!”
Gibby snorted. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“What was the name of your first pet?” Jazz asked.
Nick didn’t know what kind of archaic magic Jazz was conducting, but he was so on board. “I had a goldfish named Jerome. Does that count?”
“I bet it does,” Jazz said, typing something into her phone. “What kind of makeup do you like?”
“Um. None?”
“Interesting. Last question. Are you fierce and fabulous or meek and mild?”
“I don’t … know?”
“Meek and mild,” Gibby told her.
“Meek and mild,” Jazz muttered. “And … okay. That’s it. Give it a second and it’ll come up.”
“A spell to make the ring work?” Nick asked hopefully.
She smiled as she looked up at him. “Here it is. Ready?”
He was so ready. “Hit me!”
“Charlamaine Monroe.”
“Whoa,” Nick breathed. “Is that … Latin? Or, like, ancient Greek?” He looked down at his ring. The stone caught the sunlight and flashed. He raised the ring high above his head and shouted, “Charlamaine Monroe!”
Nothing happened.
“That’s your drag queen name,” Jazz told him.
Nick lowered his hand slowly. “What?”
Gibby burst out laughing.
“It was a drag queen name generator,” Jazz explained. “I figure if you’re going to wear the ring, you at least needed to have a drag queen name. Charlamaine Monroe. I like it. It suits you.” Her eyes widened. “And think about it! Your ship name with Shadow Star would be ShadowMaine.”
Gibby doubled over, clutching her sides. It sounded like she was crying.
“I hate you guys so much,” Nick muttered. “It’s a good thing I have a part two of Phase Three.”
And he immediately started stripping.
Gibby wiped her eyes as she stood upright. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but you don’t need to get naked. Please don’t hurt me like that. The threat of your pasty, skinny-boy body is enough of a punishment.”
Nick set down his jacket and shirt on the ground as he toed off his shoes. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. When he finished, he stood in nothing but boxers and—
“Your socks have ducks on them,” Jazz said. “Why do your socks have ducks on them?”
“Because I like them,” he snapped at her. “Now, Phase Three part two! I have the magical decoder ring, and I will now jump into the Westfield River. The sludge in the river will mesh with the ring and morph me into an Extraordinary. I will be able to control water and mud and … other river-related things, and the world will be in awe of Nicholas Bell, also known as the Extraordinary Charlamaine Monroe! That’s right, Jazz. You thought you could trick me, but I am going to own it.”
“Oh no,” Jazz whispered.
“Now, wait a minute,” Gibby said, taking a step forward. “Nick, you don’t need to do this, okay? It was a joke, man. Please don’t jump into the river. I’m pretty sure this is where they found that foot last year. Like, an entire human foot. Please don’t jump into dismembered foot water—and oh my god, why did you bring goggles?”
Nick fit the goggles over his eyes. “Protection. Everyone knows you should wear goggles when you go swimming. It helps your eyes.”
“Nick, seriously,” Gibby said, sounding alarmed. “Let’s figure out something else, okay? Or, hey! Maybe we should go find a TV somewhere to see if Pyro Storm and Shadow Star are still fighting or whatever. Wouldn’t that be cool? Maybe they’ve hit each other so hard, their costumes are torn and you can see skin!”
That was almost enough to derail him. “Foul temptress,” he hissed at her. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work! I’ve thought this through.”
“See, that’s the thing. I don’t know if you have. This is dumb, Nick. You know it is.”
The funny thing was, he did know that. Everything about this was stupid. But he couldn’t find a way to tell them how desperate he was, that he was out of ideas and that he had nothing left. He couldn’t tell them about his father’s words ringing in his ears over and over again: Why do you have to be the way you are? Pity. That was what he’d get from them. Pity. He didn’t want it. He wanted to be different.
“Nick,” Jazz said. “If you jump in that water, you won’t be allowed to stand next to me for at least a week. That’s how long it’ll take for the smell to go away.”
“Small price to pay for what I’ll get in return,” Nick said, and he turned away from them.
Gibby tried one last time. “Nicky, no.”
“Nicky, yes,” he crowed, and took off toward the edge of the pier. The wood creaked underneath his feet, and the rancid air whipped by his face. He clutched his hands into fists, feeling the ring that had cost thirty-seven dollars plus shipping sent to him by a drag queen from Milwaukee named Veronica B. Dazzled. And as he reached the end of the pier and jumped as far as he could into the Westfield River, Nicholas Bell just knew it was going to work.
12
It didn’t work.
He sat on the sidewalk near the pier, water and something black and foul dripping off him, hands handcuffed behind his back, two cops standing in front of him, arms crossed. Their patrol car was behind them, the light bar flashing red and blue.
“Okay,” the cop on the left said. “Let’s go through this one mor
e time. You jumped into the river because…”
Nick sighed. “Because I wanted to go swimming. That’s not illegal. I’m a citizen of Nova City. I know my rights!”
The cop on the right snorted. “You broke at least three city ordinances, kid. There’s a reason you can’t go swimming here.”
“Well, then there should be a sign that says that!”
“Like the one right over there?” Left Cop said, pointing to a large sign about five feet away that showed a black stick figure jumping into black triangles with a big red X going right through the middle.
“That could mean anything,” Nick muttered. “For all I know, that means don’t jump onto shark fins.”
“And the words right underneath that say something about absolutely no swimming?” Right Cop asked.
Nick shivered. He was cold and smelled like ass. “I have ADHD. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to focus. Are you holding me responsible for my disability? Because I’ll have you know, that’s just cruel.”
Left Cop snorted. “Mr. Bell, I highly doubt it affects your reading comprehension.”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “That was low, even for me. There are people out there with worse disabilities, and also people who actually can’t read. I feel bad now. You know what? I’ve learned my lesson and humbly ask that we forget all about it. How about you let me out of the cuffs and I’ll promise to never do anything like this again? My friends can hold me to that promise.” He nodded toward Jazz and Gibby who stood next to the cop car. Jazz waved at him. He tried to wave back, but since his hands were still handcuffed, he could only jerk his elbow a little bit. “How about it, guys? Everything good?”
“What do you think?” Right Cop asked Left Cop.
“It could work,” Left Cop said. “But then, we’ve already radioed dispatch. And I haven’t arrested anyone today. You know how I get when I haven’t arrested someone in a while.”
“There is that,” Right Cop said. “And also, Aaron Bell would probably be upset that we let his son go when we were told in no uncertain terms releasing him wasn’t going to happen.”
Nick panicked. “You know my dad? I mean, I have no idea who Aaron Bell is. He sounds devious. You should ignore him.”
“Says the guy who jumped into the Westfield River wearing nothing but his underwear and a ring for drag queens.”
“It’s not for drag queens!”
Right Cop rolled his eyes. “My son performs at a bar in midtown as Ivy Chantal. He’s got the same ring, kid.”
“How’s he doing with that?” Left Cop asked.
“Great,” Right Cop said. “Makes good money for school with his performances. Helps out his old man quite a bit. Books are expensive these days.”
“That’s wonderful,” Left Cop said. “I had a blast when we went last time. We’ll have to do it again. Mr. Bell, by order of your father, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used—”
“Record this,” Nick bellowed at Jazz and Gibby. “Record this so I can use this in a lawsuit I’m going to file against my dad and the city for police brutality! I will have—”
* * *
“—my vengeance,” Nick’s tinny little voice said from the phone sitting on the table in the interrogation room. “I will have my vengeance!”
The video cut off.
“Gibby didn’t need to forward the video to you,” Nick muttered, laying on his arms on the table. “That was rude.”
Cap snorted and pulled his phone back in front of him. “I hope your friendship survives.”
“And the dust mask you’re wearing is a little overkill, don’t you think?”
Cap adjusted the strap around his head. His mustache stuck out oddly from the sides of the mask. “You smell terrible.”
Nick buried his head in his arms, the blanket he was wrapped in slipping off his shoulders. “Today is the worst.”
“Eh. You’re alive, aren’t you? Mostly naked and stinking up my interrogation room, but alive. At least for now.”
“Because of the potential diseases I might get?”
Cap shrugged. “Or because of your father.”
Nick groaned. He was afraid of that.
“You have to admit, Nick. This was pretty stupid. Even for you.”
“I admit nothing.” Then, “Is he mad?”
“Oh, sure.”
“Great.”
“He’s also relieved that you’re okay.”
Nick could work with that.
“But mostly mad.”
Or maybe he should stage a jailbreak and flee the city. “I’m grounded, aren’t I?”
“I suspect so.” Cap sobered, and Nick knew he was in for it. “You could have gotten hurt, Nick. Or worse. At the very least, you took away police resources from someone that might have needed help. Those guys aren’t in my precinct, but they still took the time to bring you here.”
Nick’s stomach twisted slickly. “I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry, Cap. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. It was … stupid, I guess.”
“You’re lucky they know your dad. You could be sitting in a cell on Sixth right now. Not the best place to be.”
Nick’s face heated with shame. His head hurt, and his thoughts were racing. He was exhausted, and his skin was thrumming. “It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Cap said, though he sounded amused.
“Am I going to be charged with anything?”
“Nah,” Cap said. “I figure the way you smell probably is enough punishment, don’t you?”
“For sure. Maybe you can tell Dad that too. See what he thinks.”
Cap laughed. “Sorry, kid. I think I’ll leave that between the two of you.” He stood, grunting as his knees popped. “Sit tight. We’ll get you home soon.” He went to the door, but before he opened it, he looked over his shoulder back at his prisoner. “He loves you, you know?”
Nick didn’t raise his head. He blinked rapidly against his arm. “He asked me why I had to be the way I am.”
“We say things we don’t mean, Nick. All the time. I know it can be hard after everything you’ve both been through. But he loves you more than you could ever know. And you need to remember that, okay? He may yell a little, but it’s a cop’s worst nightmare to hear the name of their loved one coming in over the radio. You scared him. So you let him yell, you let him ground you, and while you do that, remember that he loves you, and he’s so relieved you’re safe.”
Nick didn’t speak as Cap left, closing the door behind him.
* * *
Ten minutes later, the door opened again. Nick raised his head to see Dad standing in the doorway in his uniform. The look on his face didn’t bode well for Nick.
“Get up,” Dad said, and Nick moved quickly. The cheap flip-flops he’d been given after he’d arrived at the precinct slapped against the floor. Dad’s nose wrinkled as Nick got closer, making Nick feel more miserable. Dad didn’t move out of the doorway, so Nick stopped in front of him, averting his gaze. He bounced slightly on his knees. He couldn’t help it. He should have taken the Concentra.
“You’re grounded,” Dad said, and Nick winced at the anger in his voice. “You’ll go to school during the week, and then you’ll come right home and do your homework. No friends. No internet unless it’s for school. On the weekends, you’ll have a list of chores to keep you busy. There’s no timeline for this. It’ll go on for as long as I think is necessary. Do you understand me?”
Nick nodded but didn’t speak. Nothing he could say could fix this.
“I’m keeping your phone too. You won’t need it—”
And there it was. There was the panic that had been simmering at an increasing level ever since he managed to pull himself from the Westfield River to the sound of approaching sirens, the fishermen on the dock farther down the way still staring at him. There was the panic that he’d tried his best to swallow down.
It should have been nothing. Nick
had made a stupid mistake, sure. He’d made many stupid mistakes. He should have taken the pills when they’d been given to him. He shouldn’t have jumped into the river. He shouldn’t have spent thirty-seven dollars plus shipping on a ring from a drag queen.
And he should have been someone who his dad could be proud of. That way, Dad wouldn’t have had to ask why Nick was the way he was, as if he hadn’t been trying his damnedest to become someone different, to become someone better. Someone Extraordinary.
Maybe if Nick had been an Extraordinary to begin with, none of this would have happened. But he wasn’t, and here they were.
Dad was trying to take his phone away, and Nick couldn’t breathe.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he heard his dad say through the storm in his head. “Nicky, breathe. Come on—holy shit, the smell—breathe, kiddo. Just breathe with me, okay? I need you to listen to me. Listen to the sound of my voice.” Nick felt a big hand press against his chest, familiar and safe and warm, and he latched onto it as best he could, struggling to fill his lungs. “In, Nicky. In with me. Breathe in, one. Two. Three. Hold it. Hold it. And out. One. Two. Three. There you go. That’s better. Again. In.”
Nick breathed. It hurt, and his heart felt like it was rattling around in his chest and throat, but he breathed. The storm began to clear, leaving the ache right behind his eyes.
Dad stood in front of him looking concerned, hand still pressed against Nick’s chest. Nick knew his dad loved him, and oh, did he love him fiercely in return. When Before became After, when he went from two parents to only having one, he’d become almost obsessive about keeping his dad safe and healthy and whole. Losing one had almost destroyed him. Losing another would finish the job.
“What brought that on?” Dad asked. Even though Nick stunk to high heaven, Dad was still close.
“Phone,” Nick croaked out.
Dad frowned. “What about your—” Nick saw the moment it hit him. “Ah, kiddo. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay,” Nick said, trying to smile but failing spectacularly. “Just … don’t take it. Please.” Because it would be the only way Nick would know if something happened to his dad while he was at work. He couldn’t deal with the thought of that lifeline being taken away from him. “I know I messed up, but please don’t do that.”