liked the way it looked,” Seth muttered.
Gibby snorted. “I bet you did.”
Nick didn’t have time for their vagueness. “And now that I’ve given you all examples of specific times I’ve been a good friend and supported you with something, I’m asking that you do the same for me and respect my decision to become an Extraordinary.”
Jazz opened up her Tupperware. She pulled out what looked like quinoa tabbouleh with sliced avocados. Nick couldn’t be sure how he knew what quinoa tabbouleh even was. “How are you going to do that?” she asked. “Not everyone can be an Extraordinary. If they could, there’d be millions of them. I’d be one.”
“What would your superpower be?” Gibby asked.
Jazz shrugged. “Flying. Or maybe growing orange trees. You know I like the way orange trees look.”
Nick frowned. “That’s not a—”
Gibby shook her head in warning. “You do that, babe. I bet they’d be the best orange trees.”
“Of course they would,” Jazz said. “And then I’d harvest the oranges and make orange juice with so much pulp, it would be like chewing rather than drinking. And then I’d donate it to people who can’t afford orange juice.”
Nick wanted to protest—because what?—but he had to stay on their good side so he could have their complete support in his new endeavor. “That sounds … so great. Good for you.”
“Thanks,” Jazz said, beaming at him.
“I’d want to be able to make my hands turn into swords,” Gibby said, stealing an avocado slice from Jazz. “And then I’d stab everyone who pissed me off.”
“Very effective,” Nick said. “Bloody and violent, but I can dig it. Sword Hands, they’d call you. Look out, bad guys! Here comes Sword Hands, and she’s gonna stab your throat.”
They turned to Seth, who didn’t seem like he wanted to take part in the conversation, if the look on his face meant anything. He just needed a little motivation, and in another life where Extraordinaries didn’t exist, Nick could have been a motivational speaker.
“Your turn,” Nick said, bumping Seth’s shoulder. “You got this, man.”
Seth sighed. “I dunno. Maybe I don’t want to be an Extraordinary.”
Nick was scandalized. He said, “But—” and “Are you—” and “How could—” before deciding on “Why?”
Seth shrugged, but didn’t look up from his lunch box in front of him. “It sounds like it’d be hard work, you know? More than you think it ever could be.”
Nick didn’t understand. “But—it’s about being brave. It’s about helping people!”
Seth jerked his head up, and his jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed. Nick had never seen that expression on his face before. A chill ran down his spine.
“Helping people,” Seth said, laughing quietly, though it didn’t sound like he found anything funny about it. “Sure. There’s that. Once you decide to go public and help people, you always have to continue helping them, no matter what. You can’t help one person and not another, right? And what happens when there are multiple people who need help, but you can’t get to all of them at once? Who do you choose? And when you do choose, how can you live with that choice if one of the people you didn’t help gets hurt? Or worse.”
Seth was getting upset. Nick didn’t like that at all. When Seth got upset, it made Nick twitchy and want to maim whatever had caused it. “Is this about what Owen said? Don’t listen to him, man. It’s just a game. You don’t need to—”
“It’s not a game,” Seth snapped, slamming his hands on the table. Nick struggled not to move away. “And even when you try your hardest to do good, there are always going to be people suspicious of your motives. Wondering what you’re really trying to do. And it doesn’t help that there’s going to be some jerk who appears out of nowhere and thinks he’s your archnemesis, and does his best to make everything worse.”
“But—”
Seth shook his head. “And it’s lonely. That’s the one thing you don’t expect. How lonely it is. Because you can’t tell anyone about it. You can’t tell your family because they wouldn’t understand. You can’t tell your friends because they could become targets, and you don’t want them to get hurt. So you keep on going by yourself, hoping one day it will get better, and the only thing that’s in your head is why you started to begin with. Why you put on that stupid costume in the first place. The promise you made to yourself. And some days, that’s almost not