way I am now.”
Seth looked shocked. “Nick, your dad doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t hate anything about you.”
Nick’s fingers were twitching. “Sure seemed like it this morning when he asked me why I had to be the way I was.”
“Are you sure that’s what he said? You have a tendency to … exaggerate things.”
Nick really wanted to go home now. The walls were closing in, and his thoughts were jumbled and angry. “Great. I didn’t know you felt that way.” He scooped his backpack up from the floor. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
But before he could turn toward the door, Seth tried to get out of the bed. He swung his legs out from underneath the comforter. Nick hadn’t been wrong. Seth was wearing boots. And sweats that clung to his legs. And the undershirt that was tight against his chest and shoulders. Seth groaned, clutching a hand around his stomach, gritting his teeth.
Nick took a step back. This wasn’t the Seth he knew. The Seth he knew was chubby and wore sweaters and bow ties and sometimes stuck his tongue out between his teeth when he was concentrating really hard. He was resilient and dependable and made Nick feel important.
This Seth looked strong, even though he also looked like he was hurting. The muscles in his arms bunched as he gripped his stomach, breathing through his nose. He looked like he hadn’t exactly lost weight—except in his face—but more so that it’d been redistributed and possibly turned to muscle.
Nick didn’t know what to do with that, especially since his brain seemed to have shorted out. “You’re buff,” he said stupidly. “Why are you buff?”
Seth chuckled through gritted teeth. “Hard work.”
“Why didn’t I notice?” Nick asked.
“Maybe because you don’t always see things that are right in front of you.”
That stung more than Nick thought it would. Because all he could hear in that was Dad asking him why he had to be the way he was. “That’s not fair. You know how my head is—”
“Oh, I know,” Seth said. “I know exactly how your head is. But it can’t be an excuse, Nick. Not forever. You want to be an Extraordinary? Fine. There’s a bus filled with kids that’s about to fall off a bridge. There’s an apartment building ten miles away that’s on fire and about to collapse filled with people who can’t escape on their own. Who do you save?”
“I don’t … that’s not—”
Seth looked up at him, eyes blazing. “Who do you save, Nick? You want to help the city, right? That’s what you said. You want to help the city. The people. Your dad. Who do you save?”
“I would help one,” Nick said. “And Shadow Star would help the others. That way everyone is okay, and no one would get hurt. And maybe I’d even convince Pyro Storm to help put out the fire, because he can’t be all bad—”
“Funny how that works,” Seth muttered. He shook his head. “You have faith, Nick. That’s good. But it’s not going to be enough.”
Nick bristled. “What the hell, man? All I wanted was to come over here and check on you—”
“Even though I told you to stay away—”
“—and now you’ve got bruises and muscles and you’re wearing boots in bed—”
“It’s my house. I can do what I want.”
“—and you’re trying to quiz me or something, and you’re talking crap about Shadow Star who is the greatest Extraordinary alive. And maybe you don’t want me to be like him. Or Pyro Storm. Maybe you’re just jealous about—”
Seth’s laugh was almost hysterical. “Jealous? About Extraordinaries? That’s not even…” He tilted his head. “Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense.”
Nick wasn’t expecting that. “It does? I mean, of course it does. You’re just jealous that … that, um. Okay, wait. Why are you jealous?”
Seth looked up at him again. That same strange glint was in his eyes. “I’m right here, you know? I have been. For a long time.”
Nick was confused. “I know.”
“And then there was Owen, and you—”
“Made a sexy but regrettable mistake,” Nick admitted. “I blame teenage hormones and this thing he could do with his tongue.” He grimaced. “That makes me sound terrible.”
“And now you’ve got this stupid crush on Shadow Star.”
“Don’t,” Nick snapped. “It’s not stupid, okay? He saved me, and he knows who I am without me having to tell him, which means he might like me or something, and even if he doesn’t, I can show him that I can be—”
“Who