arm, why don’t ya.” He grimaced. “On second thought, please don’t do that. You’re much stronger than I am.”
“As long as we have an understanding,” she said primly, spreading her cloth napkin in her lap.
Gibby handed him a piece of pizza. Jazz put chicken and avocado on top of it. It tasted disgusting, but it made him feel a little bit better. “Neither of you have heard from Owen?”
Jazz shook her head. “But that’s not weird, right? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a text from him.”
“Me either,” Gibby said.
Nick frowned. “He texts me all the time.”
Gibby rolled her eyes. “That’s because he wants to suck your—”
“No need to be crude while we’re eating,” Jazz told her.
“Oh, I didn’t know we were so civilized here at our metal lunch table surrounded by screaming teenagers. I shan’t forget again, Your Majesty.”
“I saw him yesterday,” Nick said suddenly. “When I was late. His dad dropped him off.”
Jazz’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “You saw Simon Burke? Here?”
“Yeah. And it was weird too. They were arguing.” Maybe not that weird. Nick had done just the same with his father that very morning. “I don’t know. It looked intense. Whatever it was, Owen told me he was skipping the rest of the day. Guess he decided to do it today too.”
Gibby snorted. “And he tried to make you go with him, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, but I said no. I’m—it’s not like that. Not anymore.”
“Did Simon Burke see you?” Jazz asked.
Nick shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“He’s scary. At least that’s what my dad says. He’s ruthless. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. I only met him once, but it was a long time ago. He didn’t seem very nice to me.”
“That’s probably how one gets to be a super rich CEO,” Gibby said. “You gotta be able to squash the little guy. Owen’s pretty much on his way already, isn’t he?”
“Hey,” Nick said, feeling weirdly defensive. “Owen’s not that bad.” He paused, considering. “Okay, maybe he is, but he’s not like his father. That guy gives me the creeps.”
“Sure, Nicky. Whatever you say.” She took a bite of pepperoni and olive. “How’s Phase Two going?”
Phase Two was pretty much dead in the water, but he needed to keep the faith. “There aren’t any meteor showers in the near future. And I think that most of the nuclear power plants near here are probably under armed guard.”
“That’s just unfair,” Jazz said. “Don’t they know all you want is a little radiation poisoning?”
Thank god for Jazz. “Right? It’s not like I’d be hurting anyone.”
“Except for yourself,” Gibby said. “Like, what if instead of giving you powers, it made all your teeth fall out and your eyelids melt?”
“You wouldn’t be able to blink,” Jazz told him. “Or eat solid foods. And you’d probably grow tumors all over your body. I don’t know if I could be seen in public with someone who had no teeth or eyelids and a lot of tumors due to self-inflicted radiation poisoning. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Hate to break it to you,” Gibby said, “but your reputation was pretty much shot when you decided to take up with the likes of us. We aren’t exactly the top of the food chain. I don’t even know if we’re on the food chain.”
“More like the flies that surround the predators at the top of the food chain,” Nick said.
“I suppose,” Jazz said. “But I think it’s better to be real with you than fake with everyone else.”
Nick gaped at her.
“What?” she asked him.
He shook his head slowly. “I just—huh.”
“Is that a good huh?”
“Oh yeah. You’re awesome. You sound like a fortune cookie.”
She looked pleased. “Why, thank you. I like the way they taste.”
Gibby grinned at her. “She’s pretty great, right?” She glanced at Nick. “But it’s probably for the best about the meteors and the power plants.”
Well … yeah, but still. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “You saw the way Pyro Storm and Shadow Star were going after each other last night. Don’t tell me you didn’t. You turned your TV on as soon as you got home. And licked the screen.”
Nick scowled at her. “What does that have to do with me?”
“It’s dangerous,” Gibby said gently. “The way they were fighting was just … brutal. How could you want to be a part of that?”
“It’s not about that—”
“Of course it is. Maybe not all of it, but it’s a big part. There’s always going to be something