“Lighthouse,” Aysha murmured. “And you—what, sit down in the basement on a computer, feeding him information about crimes in progress? That’s all well and good, Gibby, but what happens next year? You’re going to be leaving for school. You got into Howard, sweetheart. That’s hundreds of miles away. Isn’t it better to have a clean break now, so you can focus on your future?”
The air was sucked out of the room. Nick snapped his head toward Gibby.
“What?” Jazz whispered. “I thought—” She looked at her girlfriend. “You’re leaving?”
“Dammit,” Gibby muttered. “I wasn’t going to—” She shook her head angrily. “I haven’t made any decision yet.”
Trey and Aysha exchanged a look that Nick couldn’t decipher. “What do you mean you haven’t made any decision yet?” Trey asked slowly. “Gibby, Howard is an amazing school. You’ve worked so hard getting the grades you have, and you’re ranked first in your class.”
“You’re what?” Nick asked.
Gibby rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is,” Jazz said in a hushed voice. “Just because you didn’t want anyone else to know doesn’t make it any less true. I’m proud of you. Everyone else should be too.”
“You’re leaving?” Seth asked, dumbfounded.
Gibby glared at the floor. “This isn’t how I wanted this to come out. I’m still deciding what’s best for me. And since it’s my future, I get to make that decision.” Her parents started sputtering, but she overrode them. “I know you think I need to go to an HBCU like you both did, but there’s more to it than that. And it’s not just about Jazz. Or Seth. Or Nick. Or even Lighthouse. It’s about me and what I want.” The fight went out of her voice, and she folded in on herself. “Doesn’t that matter at all?”
“Of course it does,” Aysha said. “And we’ll support you no matter what you decide, but Gibby, I need you to think—really think. You say it’s not just about Jazz or your friends. That plays a big part in it, though, doesn’t it?”
For a moment, Nick thought Gibby wouldn’t answer. She did. “It does. It’s … we’re making a difference. We’re helping people. That counts for something, right?”
“It does,” Trey said. “But so does your future. Say you stay in the city and go to school here. Are you going to be able to focus on your studies while still being part of Team Pyro Storm? And how long is that going to last? A year? Two years? Ten? Gibster, this isn’t your system to fix.”
“I know it’s not,” Gibby said. “But I want to. Because if anything is going to change, it has to start somewhere. Why can’t it start with me?” She leaned forward, gaze leveled on her parents. “You told me the only reason change happens is because there are people willing to fight for it. I can’t just sit by and let that fight go on without me, not when I can help make things better.”
Trey looked stricken as he said, “I can’t let anything happen to you, honey. I just can’t. You are everything to me.”
“I know, Dad,” she whispered. “I love you too.” She sat back in her chair, and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “I don’t ask you for much. I never have. And I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me, which is why I’m asking you to trust me with this. We’re young, yes, but we’re doing good. We’re making a difference.”
Trey sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I want to trust you. I really do. But I’ve been around a hell of a lot longer than you have. I know how these things go. I’m not going to promise anything right now because that’s not fair to any of us. I need time to think.” He glanced at Aysha, who nodded. “We both do.”
“She shouldn’t make any decision based on this,” Seth said. “Gibby, I—” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know if this is even what I want. I can’t be a hero forever.”
Martha put her hand over her heart. “Seth? What are you talking about?”
He shrugged awkwardly, looking impossibly young. “I don’t know. I just … There has to be more than this. I made the decision to become Pyro Storm because someone I cared about needed a hero. He didn’t know that he was already my hero, and I wanted to do anything I could to make sure he never got hurt that way again. And it sort of steamrolled from there, because someone always needs saving, and if I could help them, then I had to. They were—are—my responsibility.”
“You do what you need to do, Seth,” Bob said gruffly. “And if that means hanging up the costume and just being a teenager, then so be it. The city survived long before you came into the world, and it’ll be here well after we’re all gone. Your aunt and I, we’ll have your back, no matter what you decide.”
“Let’s take a step back for a moment,” Miles said. “We need to think clearly about this, and I don’t know if we can right now since we learned about all of it ten minutes ago.” He jerked his head toward the boxes. “Jasmine, only the best, right?”
She nodded, though her face was pale. “Only the best.”
Miles stood from the couch. “Well, let’s see what we have, huh? Might as well make sure everything works like it’s supposed to. What do you say, Trey? Feel up to helping me haul some boxes down to the basement?”
For a moment, Nick thought no one would move. He was surprised when Trey stood, sliding the sleeves of his thick sweater up his forearms. “Can do. I’m not much for computers and junk, but I know how to follow directions and plug things in.”
“He does,” Aysha said, pushing herself up from the couch. “It’s one of the things I love most about him. Jo, let’s go. We should probably make sure our husbands don’t screw this up.”
“Absolutely,” Jo agreed. She followed the others as they began to hoist the boxes and carry them toward the basement stairs.
“I’ll show you where the secret lair is,” Bob said. “Built the pocket door myself, even though some people don’t give it the appreciation it deserves.” He looked pointedly at Nick, who rolled his eyes. After all, it wasn’t his fault for having sky-high expectations when it came to something like a secret lair. At the very least, the door should’ve been outfitted with a retinal scan.
“And I have cookies!” Martha called after them, scooping up the plate from the table. “Everyone who helps will get as many as they want.”
Dad jumped up at that, only pausing when Nick reminded him that he wasn’t getting any younger, and that he’d already had four. Dad muttered under his breath that he was the adult and could decide how many cookies he could eat as he walked into the kitchen. Nick promised him if another cookie went into his mouth, he’d be eating only kale for the foreseeable future.
And then Team Pyro Storm was alone in the Gray living room, listening as the parents grunted and groaned as they descended the stairs to the basement.
Before anyone else could speak, Nick said, “Gibby, I know that look on your face. Do not apologize for anything.”