The Extraordinaries Page 12

  It didn’t hurt that Owen looked pretty okay in those jeans.

  But Nick didn’t have time to think about that now. He had support.

  “Okay!” he said, grinning so wide, his face hurt. “Operation Turn Nick into an Extraordinary and Live Happily Ever After with Shadow Star in a Villa Off the Coast of Italy Where We Feed Each Other Grapes by Hand is underway!” He paused, considering. “I might need to work on the name of the operation, but you get the idea. Let’s do this thing!”

  The bell rang.

  “After school gets out,” Nick said hastily. “Because education is important, and my dad will murder me if I don’t get at least a B average. I have to go. My class is on the opposite end of campus. Bye!”

  7

  Even though Nick had the support of his closest friends and an operation planned (at least in name only), it wasn’t until the weekend that he was able to get things going. Not because he didn’t want to start sooner (oh lord, did he) but because apparently junior year meant the teachers decided there should be at least forty-six hours of homework every night. Nick often wondered what happened in their childhoods to make them want to grow up and make his life miserable.

  Not only did they ask for essays and warn of evils-to-come such as pop quizzes, they were also telling the students they needed to start thinking of their futures. Nick didn’t know how to explain that he was trying to do just that, but they were getting in his way. Sure, they were talking about things like colleges and vocational schools, and Nick was more focused on being able to conduct electricity through his fingertips, but still. It was easier to think about being an Extraordinary than it was to think about getting older.

  Then Dad had a rare Saturday off, so they’d gotten pizza from Tony’s for an early lunch, sitting outside on the ancient tables, watching people go by, making up stories about who they were and where they were coming from and where they were going. It was something they’d done since Nick could remember. And Before, Mom had laughed and laughed at some of the stuff they’d come up with. She’d said they were the most creative people she’d ever known, and that she thought Nick would grow up to be an author one day.

  It’d taken time After to—it hadn’t been easy. Nick had been confused and angry and scared, and Dad had been hollow-eyed and barely speaking. There were times Nick hadn’t seen him for days, their schedules so opposite, it was like they were merely roommates, and there’d been a moment when he’d been unable to sleep, his thoughts racing, thinking that he hated his father. He’d hated him for not protecting Mom even though he’d been nowhere near the bank when it’d happened, hated him for leaving Nick alone when he needed him the most. Hated him for not being strong enough. Hated him for saying, no, Nicky, no you can’t see her, kid, you can’t, it’s better off you remember her as she was. Then she came home in an urn, nothing but a pile of ashes that Nick couldn’t believe had once been his mother. They’d spread the ashes near the lighthouse, neither of them speaking.

  It had gotten better, albeit slowly. Nick knew Cap had something to do with it, because suddenly Dad was home all the time, saying with an awkward shrug that it was a forced vacation. It’d lasted a few months, and they’d had to learn how to be the two of them in the same space where there’d once been three.

  Things were better now, leading to days like today when it was just the two of them. They got back to the house, leftover pizza in a cardboard box. And there, sitting on the front steps of their old row house, was Nova City’s chief of police himself.

  “Huh,” Dad said, glancing down at his watch. “He’s early.”

  Nick was suddenly nervous. The last time Cap had been here had been right before the forced vacation, and though Nick had been upstairs, he’d kept his ear to the floor, hearing words like I don’t have a choice here, Aaron, and you were out of line and you punched a witness, for Christ’s sake and you’re lucky you’re not getting fired. It’s a demotion. Beat cop. I went to the mat for you, Aaron. I can’t keep you in Homicide. You’re a good cop. But you went too far here.You need to think of Nick. Take the offer. It’s better than having nothing at all. It’s either this or you look for a job in private security.

  Yeah. So the last time Cap had been here hadn’t been the best.

  Which was probably why Nick started breathing heavily, his forehead sweating.

  “Nicky?” he heard his dad ask, concern in his voice.

  Nick swallowed thickly, his fingers twitching at his side, always moving. “Is he—is he here to—”

  To give bad news, he was trying to say, but couldn’t get the words out.

  Dad was in front of him, balancing the pizza box in one hand, and his other on the back of Nick’s neck. “What are you—oh. Oh. No. No, Nick. He’s here to have a beer and watch the baseball game. I know your friends are coming over, or I would have invited you to watch with us.”

  Nick nodded, trying to work his muscles loose. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Dad shook him gently. “Nah. That’s just it. You were thinking. And that’s okay. It’s my fault. Completely slipped my mind that he was coming. I should have told you. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  Nick winced. “You don’t need to apologize.”

  Dad sighed. “Yeah. I think I do. I know you’re trying, kid. I see that, and I appreciate it. And I need you to know that I’m trying too, okay? My fault. Won’t happen again.”

  Nick felt weird, off-kilter. “I’m not fragile.”

  Dad rolled his eyes. “I know. I figured that out the first time I dropped you on your head and it made a little dent. You didn’t even cry.”

  Nick glared up at him. “What do you mean, the first time? There was more than once?”

  “Being a parent is hard. Kids are slippery.”

  “Baseball is stupid.”

  “You were adopted. Didn’t even cost anything. You were in a box filled with free kittens outside of a bodega. We almost went with the calico.”

  “You’re not funny,” Nick mumbled, though that was probably a good idea for an origin story. He could be Calico Man … or something. “I don’t know why you insist on thinking you have a sense of humor. Oh, hey. Idea. I’ll watch the baseball game with you and Cap, and you won’t complain if I have a beer.”

  “Sure.”

  Nick’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “No.”

  “But you—oh my god. Okay, what if I had just a sip?”

  Dad sized him up. “You’d have to stay for all nine innings. Longer, if it goes into overtime.”

  Nick threw his hands up. “Nothing’s worth that. I refuse. Baseball sucks.”

  “You really don’t know how to negotiate, do you?”

  “I haven’t had to learn, because you usually give me everything—I mean, no, Father, whatever are you talking about?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m on to you, kid.”

  “As you should be,” Cap said, groaning as he rose to his feet. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s either going to do great things or turn to a life of petty crime. Jury’s still out.”

  “Most likely petty crime,” Nick told him. “Because then I’d get to see your pretty face every day.”

  Cap reached out with a big hand and ruffled Nick’s hair. Nick scowled.

  Cap grinned at him, his mustache looking as if his lips were spreading wings. Nick hoped one day he would be capable of epic facial hair. He’d tried to grow a beard over the summer, but he’d somehow only gotten one weird, gnarly hair coming out of his chin. He thought about keeping it but realized it probably wouldn’t do if he ever met Shadow Star.

  Good thing, then, since the alley rescue happened. Shadow Star probably wouldn’t have posed for a picture if he’d had that chin hair.

  Dad shook Cap’s hand. “Come on in. Sorry we made you wait.”

  “No big deal,” Cap said, grunting as he climbed the remaining steps. “I was early. Missus made me walk. Doctor’s talking her ear off about controlling cholesterol levels, w
hich means that I have to choke down whatever nasty concoction she found on the internet.” He glanced back at Nick. “You don’t know any vegans, do you, Nicky?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. They can’t be trusted. But what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right? A beer sounds good right about now.”

  “She already called me,” Dad said from the kitchen. “I picked up low-calorie beer for you.”

  “That woman,” Cap muttered. “Meddles in everything. Still gay, Nicky?”

  “Yeah. They say I’ll never be rid of it. Apparently, my body is riddled with homo—”

  Cap waved a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you. You’re lucky. You can get yourself a man and not have to deal with all this nonsense.”

  Nick frowned. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “Maybe I’ll give it a go,” Cap said, rubbing his mustache. “My secretary says your dad is dreamy, whatever that means. Think I got a shot?”

  Nick stared at him in horror. “Why would you say that?”

  “So I could see the look on your face,” Cap said, shaking his head. “Oh, Nicky, don’t ever change.”

  Dad came out of the kitchen, two beers in hand. He paused in the entryway to the den, eyes narrowing. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Having some guy talk,” Cap said, patting Nick on the back. “Ain’t that right?”

  “You can’t marry Cap,” Nick said to his dad. “Not only is that a conflict of interest for your job, it’s gross. He can’t be my stepdad!”

  Cap laughed, bending over and slapping his knee.

  Dad gaped.

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Nick shouted, hurrying toward the door where hopefully his salvation awaited. He didn’t want to see Dad and Cap cuddling on the couch.

  Seth was standing on the tiny porch, shuffling from side to side. He wore khakis and a wool pullover that looked really soft.

  “Why do you still ring the doorbell? You’re here almost as much as I am.”

  “It’s polite,” Seth muttered, shoving his way past Nick into the house. “Just because you tromp into my house—”

  “Excuse you, I don’t tromp. I don’t even know what that is!”

  “—doesn’t mean I do the same. My aunt says hi, by the way. She wants me to remind you that she needs you to come over and eat all her cookies so she can make more.”

  Nick closed the door behind them. “Why don’t you eat them?” He’d seen Seth polish off an entire batch of peanut butter cookies in one sitting. Granted, that had been a few years ago, but still. It was impressive. The peanut butter farts later that night hadn’t been as impressive. Nick had almost died.

  “I don’t eat much of that stuff anymore,” Seth said.

  “Oh. Why?”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “Huh.” Nick eyed him up and down. He still looked like Seth. Yeah, he was taller, and maybe his face was thinner than it’d been before, but— “There’s pizza, if you want it. Leftovers. Dad and me went to Tony’s.”

  “Nah,” Seth said. “I had boiled chicken and spinach for lunch.”

  Nick made a face. “That sounds terrible. And speaking of terrible, Cap is here, and I think he’s going gay for my dad.”

  “I don’t … what does that even mean?”

  “Right? I have no idea! But they’re on a date, and—”

  Seth glanced toward the living room. “Isn’t Cap married?”

  “Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean he can’t have a side piece.”

  Seth’s head snapped back toward Nick. “You just called your dad a side piece.”

  Nick felt the blood leave his face. “Oh my god.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Ugh,” Seth said, face in his hands like he couldn’t get the image out of his head. “Ick. Gross. No. No.”

  “Are you two done?” Dad called from the living room. “It’s funny how you think we can’t hear every single word you’re saying.”

  “Wow,” Nick said. “Glad to know you think eavesdropping is okay. Rude.”

  “I’m a cop, kid. I see and hear everything.”

  “And I’m a law-abiding citizen. I know my rights. You need to have probable cause to do—”

  “He’s going to make a good cop,” Cap told Dad. Then, “Except maybe we won’t give him a gun.”

  “He’s not even allowed to have a Taser,” Dad muttered.

  “Whatever,” Nick said. “I don’t want to interrupt your weird man date. We’re going upstairs. Seth, come on.” He was halfway up the stairs with Seth trailing after him when his dad called his name. He peered over the banister.

  Dad was looking up at him, head resting on the back of the couch. He seemed loose and relaxed, and it made Nick happy for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. But then he said something so confounding, Nick didn’t know what to do with it. “Keep the door open, okay?”

  “Uh. Okay? Why? It’s Seth.”

  “Nick.”

  “Oh my god, fine. Then you should keep your door open because it’s Cap and … okay, that doesn’t totally make sense since you’re in the living room, but the point remains the same.”

  “Regret saying that yet?” Dad asked Cap.

  “Not even a little,” Cap said, grimacing after sipping his beer.

  “Have fun with your boring sport that takes forever for anything to actually happen!” Nick hollered as he made his way to the second floor.

  “They all wear tight pants,” Dad called after him. “Seems like it’d be right up your alley.”

  Nick tripped on the stairs. “Ow, you son of a— We just had a discussion about how you’re not supposed to try and have a sense of humor!”

  “I made you, didn’t I?”

  “Whatever,” Nick grumbled, rubbing his shin. He glanced back at Seth. “You coming?”

  Seth was flushed, but then, their air conditioning was on the fritz again, so Nick didn’t question it as Seth stared up at him. “Are you actually going to reach the top of the stairs anytime soon?”

  Nick scoffed. “I don’t know why people think you’re not sarcastic. It’s all I hear from you. It’s like you’re two separate people sometimes.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Nick threw open the door to his room and dramatically collapsed on the bed, giving his shin time to heal. He didn’t think it was broken, but it was probably a close thing. He needed to stay off his feet if he was going to go through with becoming an Extraordinary. He had to be in tip-top shape to pull this off.

  “What is that?” Seth asked, eyes wide.

  “What?” Nick looked to where he was pointing. “Oh, that’s my idea board. I read on Cosmo that having an idea board helps to make planning easier.”

  “Why were you reading articles on Cosmo?”

  “I don’t even know. One moment, I was reading about diamond mines in Latin America, and the next, I’m following step-by-step instructions on making an idea board on Cosmo.”

  “I don’t think you know how you get to some of the places you do.”

  Nick shrugged. “That’s pretty much the story of my life. You sound like you’re judging me. And Cosmo said that people who judge my idea board aren’t going to be supportive in the long run. Also, I took a quiz on BuzzFeed, and apparently, my ideal sandwich has Manchego on it and I should be an airline pilot. I don’t even know what Manchego is, and I don’t know if I want it on my sandwich. And planes have too many buttons that I’d have to press.”

  “It’s a Spanish cheese made from sheep’s milk,” Seth said, studying Nick’s idea board.

  Nick frowned. “I don’t know if I want to eat cheese made from sheep. And I feel like we need to talk about dairy in general. Who was the first guy that decided to squeeze the thing hanging off an animal and drink whatever came out? Because you know it was a guy. A woman would never be that dumb. Do you think he was dared to do it by his cav
eman friends? Like, they started with cattle and then worked their way to a saber-toothed—”

  “Nick.”

  “Right,” Nick said, relieved. “I don’t know how much longer I would have gone with that.” He pushed himself up from the bed, testing his weight on his grotesquely injured leg. It barely caused a twinge. Maybe his power could be super healing. “It’s pretty amazing, right? If Cosmo has proven anything, it’s that I have the best ideas to put on idea boards.”

  And he did. Nick could humbly admit that his idea board was a thing of beauty. It was a corkboard that used to hold up pictures and articles of Shadow Star that he’d kept hidden in his closet and absolutely did not pull out when no one was home and sigh dreamily at it.

  (It was. It was that same board. He’d taken down the Shadow Star stuff and placed it in a shoebox on a shelf, next to the autograph.)

  Now, there was a sheet of paper at the top of the board emblazoned with: OPERATION TURN NICK INTO AN EXTRAORDINARY AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER WITH SHADOW STAR IN A VILLA OFF THE COAST OF ITALY WHERE WE FEED EACH OTHER GRAPES BY HAND. The font was small because that was a lot of words.

  Underneath, there were printouts of all the world’s greatest superheroes. Spider-Man. Superman. Batman. Wolverine. The Hulk. Wonder Woman. Shadow Star. Psylocke. Captain America. Midnighter. Batwoman. Flash. Rorschach. Northstar. Krypto, though he was a dog, and by that point, Nick had been printing off everything just because he could.

  “What do all of these beings have in common?” Nick asked.

  Seth waved a hand at the board. “Aside from Shadow Star, they’re all fictional?”

  “What? No, that’s not—well, yeah, that’s true, but that’s not—ugh. Why do you have to be so literal all the time?”

  “I’m literally telling you what I see.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “That’s because you have no imagination. You’re lucky you have me.”

  “I know,” Seth said, and he was so earnest about it, Nick’s palms got a little sweaty. “But maybe tell me why.”

  “Because I can see things that others can’t. Like big-picture stuff.” Nick looked at his creation. “It’s not only fictional characters, though. See?” He went to the board, pointing at different pictures he’d printed off. “Primate Girl. The American Patriot, though he was a dick. The White Rhino because that dude could destroy anything he charged at. Guardian, because they’re mysterious and cool. The Galavanter, though she was pretty much like a kid’s birthday party clown who could expel helium from her lungs, but who I am to judge?” He frowned. “Okay, maybe I went a little overboard with it. But you know that’s how my brain works. I can be a little crazy, sometimes.”