“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to any of them before they were taken downtown. Cap told me to go home because he knew it was your first day of school. Said to remind you there’s an empty cell with your name on it if there’s a single grade below a B minus on your report card at any point this year.”
“I wonder if the mayor knows that officers in his police department are threatening minors.”
“He does,” Dad said. “And he supports it completely. You get one more question.”
Like he didn’t know what Nick was going to ask. “Did you see him?”
“Yes,” Dad said, mopping up a disgusting amount of syrup.
Nick waited.
Dad said nothing.
Nick could play this game.
On second thought, he absolutely couldn’t. “And?”
“Is that another question?”
Nick barely stopped himself from throwing his fork at Dad’s head. “Why are you like this?”
Dad grinned at him. “Because your adolescent angst brings me joy as a parent.”
“Dad!”
“Yes, Nick. I saw Shadow Star. I even talked to him. In fact, I got his autograph for you. And his phone number. He gave it to me after I told him about your crush on him. He said he’d love to go out on a date with you, because he thought you were dreamy when I showed him a picture of you—”
“Please tell me I was adopted,” Nick begged. “It’s the only thing that could possibly salvage the wreckage that is my life.”
“Sorry, kiddo. You came from my loins.”
Nick groaned and dropped his head to the table. “Why did you have to phrase it like that?”
Nick felt a hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently. “Because I think it’s adorable when you get flustered. Especially when talking about your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Nick muttered into the tabletop. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Probably for the best. He’d most likely be scared away when he saw the Tumblring you do about him. Nobody likes a stalker, Nicky.”
Nick knocked his dad’s hand away as he sat back up. “I am not a stalker—”
“No, I didn’t see him. None of us did. And he’s lucky we didn’t, or we would’ve arrested him on the spot. Damn Extraordinaries. All they do is—”
“Make your job harder, yeah, yeah. I know. You say it all the time. But, Dad. He can climb walls and control shadows. I don’t think you fully grasp how amazing that is.”
“Oh, I fully grasp it, all right. But he needs to let us do our jobs. Life isn’t like one of your comic books, Nick. This is real. People can get hurt.”
“He’s one of the good guys!”
Dad scoffed. “Says who?”
“Everyone.”
Dad shook his head. “This isn’t black and white. It’s not about heroes and villains. Shadow Star is as much a pain in my ass as Fire Guy—”
“Pyro Storm, and don’t you dare compare them like that. Pyro Storm is Shadow Star’s archnemesis, and the fate of Nova City hangs in the balance as Shadow Star fights for us against the tyranny of—”
“They’re douchebags who wear tights they bought at a thrift shop.”
Nick glared at him.
Dad shrugged.
Nick decided to be magnanimous. “I’m going to pretend you never said that.”
“What a blessing.”
Maybe not that magnanimous. “This is the worst start to a school year ever.”
“Speaking of.”
Yeah, that was his fault. He should’ve seen it coming. “We’re not going to do this again.”
“I think we are,” Dad said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. Nick saw the bags under his eyes, the wrinkles on his forehead that hadn’t been there a couple of years ago. He felt a sharp pang in his chest. He forced himself not to look at all the ghosts that still haunted the kitchen: the spice rack neither of them had dared to touch, her favorite towels hanging off the front of the stove, the ones with little cats embroidered onto them. “Just so we’re on the same page.”
Better to get it over with. “I’ll pay attention.”
“And?”
“I’ll do my homework every night.”
“And?”
“And if I’m having trouble, I’ll ask for help.”
“And?”
“And if things start to get too much, I’ll tell you.”
“Why is that?”
Nick barely restrained from groaning. “Because it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart.”
Dad nodded slowly. “Good.” Then, “I know it’s been tough, Nick. And I wasn’t the best person to be around.”
Alarmed, Nick said, “That’s not—”
Dad held up his hand, and Nick subsided. “I made mistakes—mistakes I shouldn’t have. I made you a promise to do better, and I’m going to keep it. I may need you to remind me every now and then, but I know you will. And you know I’ll do the same for you. We gotta be a team, kid. It’s … it’s what she would have wanted. You know that as well as I do.”
Nick nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“Good. Pound it out.” He held up his fist.
God, his dad was so embarrassing.
Nick fist-bumped his father anyway. It would’ve been rude to leave Dad hanging.
2
Gibby and Jazz were waiting for him at the Franklin Street metro stop when Nick stepped off the train. They sat on a metal bench, pressed close together. Gibby was glaring out at the milling crowd as people were herded toward the stairs to the street above. Jazz blew a bright pink bubble, twirling her dark, shaggy hair in her fingers. Her phone was in her lap, earbuds attached, one in her ear, the other in Gibby’s.
Gibby had decided she was a baby butch a while back, which led to her shaving her head and wearing a wallet chain. She made sure everyone knew that if they called her Lola, they were getting a boot to the nuts. Anyone who hadn’t thought she was serious was corrected when a brainless jock had winked at her and she had done just that. He’d had to sit on an ice pack for a couple of days. Gibby got detention for a week.
It’d been worth it, or so she claimed. She said the world needed more Black dykes, and she wasn’t going to take shit from anyone anymore.
Nick decided then he’d support her 100 percent in every decision she’d make from that point on. It helped that she looked good with a shaved head, something Nick would never try, given that he’d end up looking like a bobblehead.
Jazz’s bubble popped when she saw him approach, and she smiled prettily as she sucked her gum back into her mouth. “Nicky. I saw a pigeon eating a burrito on the train. I was going to take a photograph of it because I thought it was artistic, but then a homeless man wearing an orange coat kicked it and ruined the shot.”
Nick bumped one of his Chucks against her chunky shoes that probably cost more than the entire contents of his bedroom. “Kicked the burrito or the bird?”
She shrugged. “Both, I think. Then I was going to take a picture of the homeless man, but he started peeing in the corner, and I decided it was a good idea to switch cars rather than suffer for my art.”