sneakers on the gym floor down the hall, and a sharp blast of a whistle, but other than that, only the rain.
He hadn’t even thought to check the forecast this morning. He’d been too distracted by wishing Rebecca Firestone would cease to exist.
The train station was a few blocks away, which meant Nick was going to get wet. He hated getting wet.
He closed his eyes tightly and thought as hard as he could for the rain to stop, just in case he’d somehow developed Extraordinary powers while in detention and could now control the weather.
He opened his eyes.
It was still raining.
He could wait it out, but according to the weather app on his phone, it was going to rain for at least two more hours, and he didn’t want to be at the school any longer than he had to be. He made the decision that since he was a man, he could stand getting his hair and socks wet.
He pushed open the door.
His hand was immediately soaked.
And it was cold.
He closed the door again.
Nick was about to slide to the floor to wait it out when he heard his name called from behind him. He turned to see Gibby walking down the hall, hand raised in his direction.
“Oh, thank god,” he said. “I thought I was going to die here. You’ve got an umbrella, right? Wait, what are you still doing here?”
Gibby punched him in the shoulder. He didn’t almost fall down, no matter how it looked. “Jazz had cheerleading practice. I was watching to critique her performance later.”
Nick rubbed his shoulder as he grimaced. “You were perving on her from the stands and got kicked out again, didn’t you.”
Gibby shrugged. “She looks hot in the uniform. I’m allowed to stare. There also might have been some gloating since the football team was running drills in the gym.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m dating the cheerleading captain. I’m allowed to be.”
“So gross,” Nick muttered. “Can we leave now? This place is sucking out my soul, and I don’t want to be here until I’m required to come back tomorrow. And hearing reminders from you that I’ll be alone forever isn’t helping.”
“I can’t believe—you know what? Nope. I said I’d stay out of it, and I’m going to. I don’t know how the patriarchy ever succeeded. You’re all so stupid.”
“Stay out of what?” Nick asked, confused. “Did Owen say something to you? I swear to god, I’m going to punch him in the pancreas. I don’t—”
“I’ll leave you here without a second thought.”
Nick believed her. Gibby was a woman of her word. “Shutting up now.”
“I don’t think that’s actually possible.”
Nick sighed. “Yeah, I don’t have a neurotypical brain. I’m lucky that everything I say is awesome and I have a couple of people who actually like me.”
“Barely,” she said, though Nick could see her fighting a smile. “Let’s blow this Popsicle stand, daddio.”
And like a couple of cool cats, they did exactly that.
* * *
The train was delayed.
“Why?” Nick asked, looking toward the ceiling of the station. The tile was dirty, and something that looked like it’d once been a hot dog was hanging from one of the grates over the fluorescent lights. “What did I ever do to you? Aside from all those things I did?”
“Looks like it’s a problem farther down the track,” Gibby said, frowning down at her phone. “Says it’ll be twenty minutes. Which in Nova City Transportation Authority speech means they have no idea what’s wrong, something’s probably on fire, and it could be up to an hour.”
It had definitely once been a hot dog. Nick could see dried mustard and everything. “My socks are wet.”
“Yeah. Your life is a tragedy in four acts. Want to wait or do you wanna hoof it down to Market Street and get on the Silver Line?”
“That’s eight blocks!”
“I’m aware.”
“In the rain.”
“Your powers of observation are your greatest skill.”
He didn’t know why someone had thrown their half-eaten hot dog into the light. It was one of the millions of stories that happened in Nova City every day that he’d never get to hear. “My socks are wet,” he said again.
“So you’ve said. Make up your mind, Nicky.”
It was stifling down in the station. People were milling around angrily, everyone staring at their phones with similar scowls on their faces.
Nick hated crowds.
And honestly, the hot dog was perturbing him more than he cared to admit.
“Fine,” he said, knowing he sounded grumpy but unable to do much about it. “If we have to.”