was the greatest thing that has ever happened to anyone in the history of ever. Not even the advent of the Industrial Age can compare. You’ll never guess. Okay. Start guessing.”
The person on the other end of the phone sighed. “Do I even want to know?”
Nick pulled the phone away from his ear in horror.
The screen said DADDIO.
He gave very serious thought to hanging up right then and there. And running away. He’d have to get a new identity. And a job on a barge. He’d grow a beard, and when someone tried to get close to him, he’d shut down and become distant because he could never know the touch of another.
But since he couldn’t be sure he even knew what a barge was exactly, he put the phone back to his ear and, trying to act like absolutely nothing had changed, said, “Hey, Pops. What’s the haps? What’s the 411?”
There was a beat of silence. Then, “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Nick said quickly and believably. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I’m doing is sitting here at home where I’m supposed to be on a school night, doing my homework. Soon, I’ll go downstairs and eat something healthy and go to bed early since everyone knows children need a good night’s sleep in order to function—”
“Nicky.”
Nick sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“I left you your pill on the counter. You need to take it, okay? You sound a little wired.”
And didn’t that just put a damper on things. “I’m not—”
“Nicky.”
“I’m allowed to be excited and happy,” Nick muttered. His headache was getting worse.
Dad made a sound that was either annoyed or exhausted, Nick didn’t know which. It hurt either way. “No one’s saying you aren’t. In fact, you being excited and happy is one of my favorite things in the world. But I want to make sure we’re being safe about it. I’m not trying to take that away from you.”
“It feels like it. Sometimes.” Nate picked at his comforter. He knew Dad was right. The adrenaline of the afternoon was already working its way out of his system, and he felt himself crashing.
“You trust me?”
Of course he did. There was no one he trusted more. “Yeah.”
“Good. And you know we’re working on me trusting you again. You’ve done a lot of good lately, Nicky. I’m proud of you. I want you happy above anything else. And I know how you get, sometimes. It’s okay to be that way. But if we can make it better for you, then we should do that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Now, what’s the greatest thing to have happened to anyone that not even the advent of the Industrial Age can compare to?”
“Um,” Nick said, because regardless of what else he was, Nicholas Bell was a terrible liar, and his father was a living, breathing polygraph machine. “Well, you see—”
Nick heard a voice in the background. Then, his dad said, “Dammit. Sorry, kid. Call came in. I’ve got to go.”
And even though Nick knew it was his job, his heart still thumped terribly in his chest. “Okay. Be careful. Text me when it’s done.”
“Will do. Do your homework. Take your pill. I love you, and I’ll see you for breakfast.”
“Love you too.”
And then Dad was gone.
* * *
Nick stared at the pill on the counter as the lasagna turned in the microwave.
“I’ll take you,” he told it seriously. “But this is only temporary. You better not get used to it.”
The pill didn’t respond, but Nick didn’t expect it to. If it had, he probably would have run screaming from the house.
The microwave dinged.
Nick picked up the pill and put it in his mouth. He grimaced as he dry-swallowed it. “There,” he mumbled. “Hooray.”
He believed his dad when he’d said all he’d wanted was for Nick to be happy. He really did. It was just—sometimes, Nick’s happiness led to Nick’s excitement which transformed into things becoming a little too much for Nick to handle. It’d been explained to both of them in terms Nick could understand that his body was like a cell phone: the more apps he used and left open, the quicker the battery drained. Or, even worse (because apparently the doctor lived for metaphors, the quack) his brain was a Ferrari, built for speed, except it had the brakes of a bicycle.
Nick had always been a little … different. At first, it was chalked up to growing pains. But then there’d been days when focusing had