came out in a squeak. He coughed and lowered his voice at least four octaves. “I’m fine.” It sounded like he was snarling. “Um. Have you seen Seth?”
Gibby narrowed her eyes. “No. Why?”
“No reason. No reason at all.” He laughed awkwardly. “I mean, why would there need to be a reason for anything at all ever?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jazz asked, sounding concerned. “You’re really sweaty.”
“It’s not sweat. It’s … raining.”
“Strange,” Gibby said. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky fifteen minutes ago.”
“A flash flood,” Nick said, glancing around the station. He didn’t see Seth yet. “Just on my street. Freak thing. Probably will never happen again. So, listen. Here’s the thing. Today is going to be weird, and you can’t say anything.”
Jazz and Gibby exchanged a look and had one of their silent conversations that Nick would never understand. They looked back at him.
“Why is it going to be weird?” Gibby asked.
“Just … like. Okay. So. Um. Feelings. And I—there were ghosts. Tuberculosis insane asylum ghosts. And I had Cinnamon Bread-Shaped Chomps this morning for an apology, so I’m a little wired. And I’m still so mad. But. I don’t know at who? I think it’s at almost everyone. Like. Is that okay? I think it’s okay. And then there’s Phase Three. I don’t know. It’s just this whole thing.”
“Wow,” Jazz whispered. “That was … I don’t know what that was.”
“Why are you mad at us?” Gibby demanded.
Nick wasn’t quite sure, so he told them as much.
They didn’t seem appeased.
“You sound like you have a lot to work through,” Jazz told him sagely.
Nick was relieved. “Right? It’s just … I’m having all these feelings—”
“Hey, guys,” Seth said from behind them.
Now, it should be said that Nick had never really had someone in love with him before. Yes, it would have to mean Bob was telling the truth, but since Nick never heard him lie about anything before, he didn’t think Bob would have picked such a horrible time to start.
In terms of the love life of Nicholas Bell, his experience was rather short. He wasn’t by any means an expert in l’art d’amour. So when faced with the fact that someone who he considered his best friend and who he was also fighting with apparently wanted to put his face on Nick’s face, he discovered quite quickly just how awkward things could be.
It didn’t help that Seth was standing there, looking like he did, wearing an oversized sweater vest over a collared shirt, chinos, loafers, and a goddamn polka-dotted cravat of all things. How dare he.
“Seth!” Nick cried, his voice much louder than he anticipated. “Buddy! Pal! Hey! Hi! How are you?”
Seth, for his part, took it in stride, though he did appear to be somewhat startled at the rather sweaty best friend practically shouting in his face. “I’m fine.”
Nick nodded furiously to the point where he wondered if whiplash was possible. “Good. Good, good, good. That’s … good. You feeling better? Like … just. Better?”
“I am,” he said slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Never better!” Nick bellowed, wiping his forehead. His hand came away soaked. “I brought you something.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out the present he’d stopped at a bodega for. It had made him miss his usual train. “It’s Mexican candy! Skwinkles Salsagheti!”
“I can see that,” Seth said, staring down at the plastic package Nick had practically shoved into his hands. “And you got me Skwinkles Salsagheti because…”
Because the bodega—like most bodegas—catered to the Hispanic community, and there wasn’t anything with nougat in the entire store. The meltdown he’d had meant that he wasn’t allowed to go back to that particular bodega. “It reminded me of you,” Nick said, for lack of anything better.
“What’s happening?” Jazz whispered to Gibby.
“I have no idea,” Gibby whispered back. “I only like girls.”
“O … kay,” Seth said. “Thanks. I think.”
Nick nodded so hard, he felt bones crack. That probably wasn’t good. “Yep. Just looking out for my best bud. My bro. My brotato chip. My pot-broast. We’re just Bromeo and Dudeliet.” Nick actively forced his mouth shut before he could make things worse.
Seth stared at him strangely for a moment before shaking his head. “I—look. About how we left things yesterday—”
“Nope,” Nick said, taking a step back. “Nope, nope, nope. Don’t even worry about it. Enjoy your Skwinkles Salsagheti. ¡Muy rapido!”
And in a move he would most likely regret for the rest of his life, Nick turned and ran up the stairs and all the way to school,