Seth pulled him along before a woman in a white dress and veil decked him. “Unlike the last one where you thought she was Pyro Storm, even though Pyro Storm is obviously a guy. Speaking of Pyro Storm, I think we need to talk about your descriptions of him—”
“No, but this theory is most likely probably true,” Nick said. “What if she knows his secret identity and is, like, holding that over him? That would explain why he talks to her and tells her stuff. Because she’s blackmailing him.”
“Evidence?”
“I don’t have any. I’m postulating. I’ll figure it out eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”
Seth seemed dubious. “How’re you going to do that?”
“I have no idea. But I’ll come up with a plan. You’ll see. It’ll be epic.”
Seth sighed. “Every time you say that, my palms get sweaty. Can’t you just let this go?”
Nick stared at him suspiciously. “Why? Do you … do you like her?” It was the most terrible of thoughts. Nick had never felt so betrayed in his life.
“What? No.”
“Because if you did, I would support your feelings toward her.” This was a lie, and one that Nick didn’t feel bad about.
“That would have been more believable had you not said it through gritted teeth. No. I don’t like her. I don’t even know her.”
“Oh, thank god,” Nick said. “Because I don’t know if I’d be able to survive something so awful. You deserve someone who isn’t an Extraordinary groupie.”
“I feel like the irony is lost on you.”
“About what?”
Seth shook his head. “Never mind. Maybe you shouldn’t try and plan anything. Focus on school. That kind of stuff. I can help you—”
“You sound like my dad.”
“Well, you did promise him. And junior year is going to be hard enough as it is. Wouldn’t it be easier just to follow the rules and have everything be nice and peaceful and calm?”
Why, yes, yes it would. But … “Calm makes me twitchy.”
Seth’s face softened. “I know. And twitchy, somehow, always leads to calamity.”
“It’s not like I mean for it to. It’s just how my mind works.”
“How’s the Concentra?”
Nick shrugged, unable to bring himself to meet Seth’s gaze. “I don’t know. It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.” He hated talking about it. Having a disorder made him feel … disordered. It wasn’t fair that on top of all the other crap he had to deal with, his brain constantly felt like it was being electrified. Some people were born to be an Extraordinary. Nick was born to have a million thoughts in the space of a minute that often led to splitting headaches. It wasn’t fair.
“It’s going to be okay,” Seth said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Nick’s hand just once before letting it go. “It’ll take some time to get used to it.”
Ever the optimist. It was one of the things Nick loved most about Seth, even if it could be annoying in the long run. Seth was a good person, better than Nick would ever be. But for some reason, he’d stuck by Nick longer than anyone else. Which, of course, led Nick to following a strand of thought that led to— “You can’t like Rebecca Firestone. She’s the worst.”
Seth grinned, that sharply sweet smile he only seemed to have for Nick. “You’re an idiot.”
Hearing that from anyone else, Nick would’ve been pissed. But Seth wasn’t like anyone else, which meant Nick knew he wasn’t being a dick. “Yeah, well. Just so we’re clear. I wouldn’t like it very much.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Nicky.” He bumped his shoulder against Nick’s. “We good?”
“Yeah. We’re—”
“Are you losers going to stand there all day? We’re going to be late. We still have to go through the metal detectors that are supposed to make it so we don’t die in class.”
They both jumped, looking over to see Gibby and Jazz staring at them from the steps to the school. Nick hadn’t even known they’d arrived already. Thank god he had friends so he didn’t need to be more aware of his surroundings.
“You ready for this?” Seth asked as Gibby and Jazz started climbing the stairs.
Nick took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready. This is going to be the best year ever. Wait and see.”
3
“Congratulations, Mr. Bell. You’ve received the first detention of the year. And it’s only six minutes into second period. That must be some kind of record.”
“But I’m trying to work on my story! I’m having ideas. You can’t stifle my creativity!”
Mr. Hanson, who was seven hundred years old if he was a day, said, “That’s all well and good. Except this is trigonometry, and I distinctly remember you avoiding summer school by the skin of your teeth, so it would be in your best interest to pay attention.”
The class snickered around them as Nick sunk into his seat. He opened his mouth to invite Mr. Hanson to give examples of when something as ridiculous as trigonometry would ever be used in the real world, but he remembered the promise he’d made to his dad and decided against it. He was already going to get it if Dad found out about getting detention on the first day. Luckily for him, Dad was on shift tonight and would already be gone by the time Nick got home. He’d text him later to tell him he was hanging out with friends to cover his bases.
A couple of people seated next to him whispered back and forth while glancing at him, laughing quietly.
Nick flipped them off.
The girl gasped.
The guy glared at him.
Nick felt better.
Until he heard his phone vibrate in his backpack a moment later.
Most everyone had to turn their phones off completely during class. Nick was one of the few exceptions. After Mom had—after that—Nick had been prone to spiral rather quickly, thinking about all the things that could happen. She was supposed to have been safe; she was a lawyer for heaven’s sake. Sure, she dealt with some of the worst types of people, but she was always all right. She knew how to take care of herself. If anything, it was his father who put himself in harm’s way every day.
And so After—because there was an After just as sure as there was a Before—Nick couldn’t stop thinking about how dangerous Dad’s job was.
One day, sitting in freshman English, he’d spiraled. One moment his blood was rushing in his ears, and the next, he was lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, trying to remember how to breathe, thinking thoughts of what if what if what if. Because what if something happened to his dad? What if he never came home? Nick would be alone. There was no one else. Cousins, maybe, out west, but he’d never met them. Would he have to go with them? Who would take care of him if the what if became something real?
The haze of sheer panic hadn’t begun to clear until he’d heard a familiar voice at his ear, telling him to breathe, just breathe, that everything would be okay, Nicky, everything was going to be okay, breathe, breathe, breathe.
It was Seth, of course.
Somehow, he’d known.
Later, when his dad had come running into the school, a haunted look on his face that had yet to fade in the few short months since his wife’s death, it was decided that Nick would always have access to his phone, just in case. He’d have to keep it on vibrate so it wouldn’t disrupt the other students, and he couldn’t abuse it, but he could keep it switched on in the event of an emergency.