But being a hero didn’t mean getting to pick and choose who to save. That was something the police seemed to do, and Nick wanted to be better than that. Better than them, even if it meant having to help an asshole like Simon Burke. Two birds, one stone.

  He spotted Gibby at the entrance to the Franklin Street station, leaning up against the railing near the stairs that led down to the subway. She didn’t see him, her phone pressed against her ear. She wasn’t smiling. Nick hurried toward her.

  She must have seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she nodded at him, speaking quickly into the phone before hanging it up and shoving it into the pocket of her black Dickies shorts, her silver wallet chain jangling. Her green tank top was low-cut, a black sports bra underneath.

  “Hey,” she said with a frown. “Why are you jogging? I thought you hated anything that wasn’t walking.”

  “Or flying,” Nick said. “But seeing as how I still haven’t gotten the hang of that, I have to use my legs. Good thing they’re sexy. At least, that’s what Seth says. Apparently, he likes pasty white sticks covered in hair.”

  “No accounting for taste, I guess.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Jazz,” she said. “She’s with Seth at the secret lair. They were going to see if they could hack into CCTV cameras to try and find out if they could catch a glimpse of Owen. They’ll meet up with us later.”

  “Our lives are so damn cool,” Nick breathed. “Say hack into CCTV cameras again, only slower this time.”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to do that. You good?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know, Nick,” Gibby said, as if he were the idiot. “This weekend was … a lot.”

  “Still a fan of hyperbole, I see.”

  She snorted. “You’re lucky I love you because you’re kind of a dick.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You wouldn’t have me any other way. I’m … good.” And he thought he meant it. Mostly. “You know, for someone who people want to murder.”

  “Our lives are too close to those dumb comic books you read.”

  He blinked. “What do you mean?” He startled when someone asked at him to move out of the way. He apologized as he stepped away from the front of the station stairs. The man nodded his thanks and descended.

  “Former enemies coming back out of the blue for revenge like this is some self-serious sequel,” Gibby said as she grabbed Nick by the arm, pulling him down the sidewalk. Her hand was hot—too hot—and Nick pulled his arm free. She didn’t stop, and he had no choice but to follow her. “Doesn’t that happen all the time in comics?”

  She had a point. “Makes you think.”

  “About?”

  “If comics have more basis in reality than people think. I’m not even talking about the social-justice angle. Like, what if there are Extraordinaries who’re comic book writers? Taking real-life stuff and putting it into comics? Oh man, do you think someone will write a comic book about us?” He hurried around Gibby, stopping in front of her and posing, hands on his hips as he looked off into the distance. “Well, how do I look? They could use this for the cover.”

  She looked him up and down before snorting. “Could use a bit of bulking up. Your pasty sticks look like you’ve forgotten all about leg day.”

  He scowled at her as he dropped his hands. “It’s not my fault I don’t have muscle mass. It’s genetics.”

  “Your dad has muscles. Your mom does, too.”

  He waved her off. “It skips a generation, like male-pattern baldness. It’s science, Gibby.”

  “That’s right,” Gibby said. “Science.” She lifted her arms and flexed. Her biceps were bigger than Nick’s. She kissed both—first the right, then the left.

  Nick was begrudgingly impressed. “Yeah, yeah. You’re stronger than I am. That’s … actually pretty damn cool. You go, girl. Maybe you should’ve been the Extraordinary instead of me.”

  She rolled her eyes as she dropped her arms. “Wouldn’t want to steal your spotlight.” She stepped around him and continued on down the street. Nick spun on his heels, hurrying to catch up with her. “You got what I think you do in the backpack?”

  He nodded. “Yep. They’re letting me have it, but there’s a list of conditions a mile long.”

  “Probably for the best, knowing you. You’d wear it wherever you went.”

  “Only for my adoring fans,” he said seriously. “Who am I to turn them down if they want a photo with a real live superhero? You may like crushing dreams, but I won’t do that.”

  “I’ve seen your fans in the comments of your fics,” Gibby said as they stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. “Extraordinary groupies are weird and don’t understand boundaries.”

  “You’re one of my groupies, though.”

  She sighed, looking up at the sky as if praying for guidance. “If you ever call me a groupie again, I’ll sic Jazz on you.”

  Nick shuddered. “That’s a very realistic threat. Did you see that thing she did with the knife at her birthday party?”

  Gibby smiled dreamily. “Right? She’s so hot. I can’t believe I get to love her.”

  “Your kinks are showing,” Nick muttered. “But yes, it was very hot and for a moment, I questioned my sexuality, but then I remembered penises, and nope.”

  Gibby had a gleam in her eye that either meant a) she was going to be rude, or b) she was going so say something specifically tailored for Nick to make his soul want to depart his body. Unfortunately, she went with c) all of the above. “Would you look at that? I also say nope when I think of penises. They look like depressed little wrinkly men who sometimes wear turtlenecks while standing on top of hairy beanbags.”

  “Oh my god,” Nick whispered fervently. “That was poetry. Disgusting, horrible poetry. You are a goddess. An evil one, but a goddess nonetheless.”

  “Damn right I am. You’re welcome for gracing you with my presence.”

  “Notice how I didn’t even put up a fight at the word little.”

  “I see you’ve accepted reality. Good for you, Nicky.”

  The light changed, and Nick and Gibby moved with the people around them as they crossed the street, ignoring the horns honking at them for no reason. It was a normal thing in the city.

  “Where are we going?” Nick asked. “Not that I don’t want to hang out, but your text was pretty cryptic.”

  Gibby glanced at him, looking as if she was choosing her next words carefully. “You said you wanted to be part of change, yeah? To help make things better?”

  He had. After she and Jazz’s parents had found out the truth about Seth, things had been … strained, to put it mildly. He could still remember how awkward it’d been to sit there, listening as Trey and Aysha read his father the necessary riot act over his involvement in police misconduct. Mom hadn’t interjected, telling Nick to be quiet when he’d tried, saying that they needed to listen. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t know why she hadn’t told them about herself at the same time. Granted, Nick hadn’t known then that she’d used to be Guardian. That would come later when he’d found the tapes in the … in the attic.

  He stopped, swaying slightly, feeling like his legs no longer worked. That … was that how it’d gone? The tapes. One in particular, labeled THE TRUTH. He’d found it. Not alone. Someone had been with him. Who was—

  Jazz. She’d been there. Worried about Gibby going away to Howard, something they hadn’t known until recently. They’d watched the tape, saw a younger version of Nick’s parents and Simon Burke. His mother was an Extraordinary. He hadn’t known that. Grief, then. But over what?

  Lies. His parents’ lies. That was all it was. That was all it needed to be.

  And then Jazz told him to try to move cups like he’d seen Mom do in the video. He had, and then everything had started moving in the house, forcing them to flee. They’d run to …

  Somewhere. He couldn’t remember. To Dad? To Mom? That … sounded right. He’d found them, confronted them, and they’d told him the truth. The pills. Simon Burke. Crushing him, suppressing him. It’d been a whole thing, anger and tears and accusations flung like grenades. But they’d moved beyond it. Mom had made sure of it.

  Right?

  “Nick?”

  He blinked, the sounds and smells of the city crashing back into him. Gibby stood in front of him, frowning.

  “You all right?” she asked, touching the back of his hand, concerned.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Just … I don’t know. Tired from training, I guess. What were you saying?”

  She watched him a long moment before nodding and turning back around and moving down the sidewalk.

  “I got word last night on this message board I follow,” Gibby said as he caught up with her. “There’s going to be a protest at your dad’s old precinct. Figured you’d want to come along and see why it’s so important.”

  “Oh.”

  “You good with that? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think it’s important for you to see—”

  “You sure it’s okay for me to be there?” Nick asked nervously. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Letting notoriety go to your head already? I knew you’d turn into a diva. So disappointing.”

  “No, it’s not—that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Then say what you mean, Nick. I can’t read your mind.”

  “My dad worked there. He was…” He swallowed thickly. “He was part of the problem. Yeah, he’s trying to make amends, but that doesn’t mean it’s all forgiven. I don’t want that to try and take away from what’s important if someone recognizes me. Put the focus on where it should be.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Wow, that’s … really mature of you, Nick. Respect.” She held out her fist, and he bumped it gladly. “But I think if someone recognized you because of your dad, they would see that you’re trying to … well, not accept responsibility for what he did, because that’s not your job. They would hopefully see that you understand how harmful his actions were, and that you’re trying to learn all you can about what we mean when we say Black lives matter. And it’s not about being Guardian or anything like that. I want you there as Nick, because we don’t need a hero to save us, not in the way you’re probably thinking. We need you to listen when we tell you what’s happening because of police brutality.”

  “Then hell yes, I’ll go with you,” Nick said immediately.

  “Really?” Gibby asked, and Nick’s heart hurt a little with how relieved she sounded, as if she’d thought he’d try to weasel out of it. “That means a lot to me.”

  “You’re one of my best friends. You’ve been there for me time and time again. Of course I’d do the same for you. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “I know, but it helps to hear it every now and then. This isn’t as sexy as being an Extraordinary, but—”

  “It’s just as important,” Nick finished for her. “I’ll follow your lead. If I seem to be getting in the way for any reason, call me out for it, yeah? I promise I’ll do my best to listen.” He looked around, recognizing where they were. The precinct was still at least fifteen blocks away. “Why didn’t we just take the train?”

  “We’re queer. We walk fast because of our survival instinct.”

  He snorted. “Okay, that was funny in a really sad way. I feel bad for the heteros. They wanted us to run from them, and so we did, and now we evolved to be much quicker than they are. They really don’t get anything aside from having all the rights they could ever ask for.”

  “The white people, anyway,” Gibby said. “Thought about the train, but I figured if anyone tried anything, it’s better to be out in the open than trapped in a metal tube underground. We’re not supposed to meet until noon, so we have plenty of time to get there.”

  “You mean Owen,” Nick said, shuddering at the remnants of a dream he couldn’t quite remember. Shadows. All those shadows. He looked up, almost expecting to see the familiar figure of Shadow Star descending toward them. Nothing, just buildings reaching toward a deep blue sky.

  “Yeah,” Gibby said grimly. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that. Assholes are always going to asshole. Come on, in here. I want to get some water bottles to take with us.” She pushed open a door without looking to see if he’d follow.

  He stepped into the bodega after her, the man behind the counter nodding at them from behind a sheet of thick plexiglass before going back to his book. Behind him, an old television sat on a shelf, blaring a commercial that was either for mattresses or depression medication. He followed Gibby past rows of colorful packaging in various languages, including Skwinkles Salsagheti, to the back corner of the bodega. A large calico cat sat on top of one of the drink coolers, tail swishing as it watched them with bright green eyes.

  “We should use bodegas more for secret meetings,” Nick said. “It’s very cloak-and-dagger. We could have code names. I’ll be Mr. X. You can be Butch Fatale. Get it? Because instead of Femme Fatale, you’re—”

  She laughed. “Butch Fatale. I call dibs in case I suddenly get powers and need an Extraordinary name.”

  “Oh man,” Nick said. “I’m already imagining your costume. Like, the entire thing is made of wallet chains.” He frowned. “Wait. That’s probably not the look you’d want to go with. You wouldn’t be able to go through metal detectors. And if someone had magnet powers, you’d lose pretty quickly.”

  “And this is why you didn’t get to pick out your own costume,” Gibby said. “Because of ideas exactly like that.”

  Nick scoffed. “Oh, please. If you all hadn’t helped Mateo make my Guardian costume, I still would’ve come up with something badass. And at least that way, I wouldn’t have body issues because of all the spandex. Seth makes it look hot as hell. I look like someone filled a plastic tube with oatmeal and gave it arms and legs.”

  “And googly eyes.”

  “And googly eyes,” Nick agreed. “Which, to be fair, is not my fault. I always look like I have googly eyes. That’s why I wear a helmet.”

  She opened the cooler door, both of them crowding in front of it, letting the cold air wash over them. Gibby grabbed a few water bottles, handing them over to Nick before grabbing a couple more. She closed the door, and Nick was about to turn and head toward the front when she said, “Hey, Nick? Can I ask you something?”

  He stopped, looking over his shoulder. “What?”

  She looked as if she were picking and choosing her next words carefully. He turned back around as she leaned against the cooler door, giving her his complete attention.

  “This is going to sound stupid. I don’t even…” She huffed out a breath.

  “You’re in the best company if that’s the case,” he told her. “Pretty much everything that comes out of my mouth is stupid.”

  She nodded, studying him for a long moment. “Okay. So. Just … let me talk this out, yeah? I swear I have a point.”

  “Go,” he said. “I’m listening.”

  “Why doesn’t your mom have a job?”

  He blinked in surprise. Out of all the things he thought Gibby might say, he hadn’t expected that question. “She quit so she could stay at home after I was born. Dad and she agreed that one of them wanted to be there so I wasn’t a latchkey kid like they were. You know that.”

  “Right,” Gibby said slowly. “But didn’t she go back at some point? Like, it’s weird. I keep thinking she’s still a lawyer. I thought I remembered you saying that she went back when you started going to school.”

  “No,” he said. “She never did.” But even as he said it, a strange feeling of unreality washed over him, threatening to split him in two. “Maybe for a little bit when I was younger, but I…” He frowned, forehead scrunched up, tongue thick in his mouth, throat parched. “Huh. That’s weird. Didn’t she…” She was home. She was always there. When Nick got up. When Nick came home. Always there, always waiting for him with open arms and a smile on her face.

  Gibby said, “I have two words in my head. Two words that I can’t shake for some reason. Before. After. Always capitalized, like they’re … I don’t know. Important. But not to me. Does that mean anything to you? I don’t know why, but it feels like they came from you.”

  “They didn’t,” he said, and this, too, felt like a lie, but he didn’t know why that was. Hadn’t he just had the same thought yesterday? “It’s…” He looked off into nothing, unfocused, dizzy. The heat was getting to him. That had to be it. He shook his head, trying to clear out his brain. “Why does it matter?”

  Visibly frustrated, Gibby said, “I don’t know. I keep thinking she … your mom. For some reason, I remember a time when she wasn’t there. With you and your dad. It’s all foggy. And it doesn’t make any sense because if she wasn’t with you and your dad, then where would she have gone?”

  “But she wasn’t gone,” Nick said slowly. “Maybe when she worked, if she had to go to a seminar or something. But other than that, I don’t think she ever left.”

  Right? Right.

  “Yeah,” Gibby said, looking unsure. “You’re right. I’m probably misremembering. Everything is fine.”

  “That’s all right,” Nick said. “A bunch of shit has happened in the last year. My head is all jumbled up with it, too.” Then, because Gibby was being honest with him, he said, “Can I tell you something, too?”

  “Of course,” she said, pushing herself off the cooler door.

  He gnawed on the inside of his cheek until it was ragged. “This whole … Burke thing. Protecting him from Owen. I can’t … I don’t know how to reconcile that, you know? He’s done so much to try and hurt us, and it feels … wrong to step in and save him should something happen.” He looked down at the floor. “I know we’re supposed to help everyone we can. We’re the good guys. We can’t pick and choose who to save.”