much. “I can’t do that.”
Owen looked surprised. “What?”
Nick shook his head. “Look, I know you’re trying to help. Thank you. Maybe this whole thing was stupid. Me, trying to become an Extraordinary. It’s ridiculous, okay? I know that. Even if I wanted it to work, it was never going to.”
“But this could—”
“Owen, you’re talking about committing a crime against your dad. Which could lead to us getting arrested by my dad. Do you know how much trouble we could get into? How disappointed he would be in me? I can’t do that to him. I won’t. He’s already got enough going on, and I don’t want to make things worse.”
Owen bristled, his brow furrowing. “But it wouldn’t matter by then, would it? Because you would already be something more than you are now. He would have no choice but to see you for what you really are. Not some disordered kid who can’t keep his thoughts straight for a single second without—”
“That’s not fair,” Nick snapped at him.
Owen winced. “You’re right. I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
“I did stupid crap and look where it’s gotten me. My dad’s pissed at me, I still have river mud in my ears, my best friend is acting weird, and I don’t know what to do about it. Shadow Star and Pyro Storm both know who I am, and I don’t know why. School has just started, and I’m already messing up. I can’t, okay?”
Owen stood stiffly. “I get it, Nicky. You want to keep on being the way you are—”
“No,” Nick retorted. “I don’t. I want to be someone my dad can be proud of.”
“Then why?”
“Because maybe I should try to do it on my own.”
Owen nodded. “Admirable. Foolish, probably. And slightly stupid. But admirable.” He winked at Nick, that wicked smile back on his face. “Don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you, okay? Our little secret.”
“I won’t,” Nick promised. “But you shouldn’t try to do anything either. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
“Aw, Nicky,” Owen said, reaching up and patting Nick on the cheek. “It’s sweet how much you care. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t,” Nick said firmly. “You should probably go. I can’t get into any more trouble.”
“Sure, Nick. I mean, if you want. Or, there’s an empty bed right here that we could roll around on—”
Nick shoved him toward his bedroom door.
14
On Monday morning, Nick stood in front of his father and swallowed his pill. It wouldn’t give him superpowers, but it would stop the storm in his head. That had to count for something.
“Toast and eggs on the table,” Dad told him. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes almost purple. “I want you home after school. I mean it, Nick.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.”
* * *
“You look like crap,” Gibby told him at the train station.
“Thanks.”
“That bad?” Jazz asked.
Nick shrugged.
“Nah,” Owen said, coming up from behind him, putting his arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Nicky here just needs some lovin’. Don’t you, Nicky?”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Not from you.”
“You wound me, sir.”
Nick shoved Owen away.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind him.
Nick turned. Seth stood there, backpack slung over his shoulder. His green tie was in a Windsor knot today. It looked nice. Nick was extremely annoyed.
“You look like crap too,” Gibby said.
And he did. Seth was pale, his curly hair messed up more than usual. His chinos were wrinkled, and he had a scuff on his loafers.
“I think we’ve all got a case of the Mondays,” Jazz said, standing up from the bench. “It’ll get better.”
“Can I talk to you?” Seth asked Nick.
Nick shrugged. “Later. I can’t be late for first period. I’m grounded.”
Seth frowned. “I want to tell you—”
“Later, Seth.” And he turned toward the stairs that led to Franklin Street.
Owen fell into step beside him. Nick didn’t turn to see if the others were following.
* * *
“And since Mr. Bell seems to find my lesson so illuminating, perhaps he would like to explain Euler’s formula, and what it produces for sine, cosine, and tangent?”
Nick snapped his head forward, finding Mr. Hanson glowering down at him in front of his desk. Other students were staring at him. Some were whispering behind their hands, glancing back at him, smiling mean little smiles. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t trying—”
“That’s certainly an apt statement,” Mr. Hanson said, already glowering at Nick. “You weren’t trying. Maybe, in the future, consider trying at all, Mr. Bell. I would hate to email your father as