“It’s not that,” Mom reassured him. “When you came to me and said you wanted to build Nick a costume, I knew Nick was in good hands. You’re a good friend, Mateo.”

  “Right,” Mateo said slowly. He blinked once. Twice. “You helped me with the costume.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Since it was your mantle he was taking on and all. I don’t know why I forgot that.”

  “What’s Chris talking about?” Nick demanded. “Another secret? I thought we were done with that. You promised me.” He stepped around his mother, stopping in front of his father. Dad’s shoulders were hunched near his ears. “You promised me.”

  Dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “I did. And I wasn’t keeping this from you, not like you think. We couldn’t be sure it…” He shook his head. “We needed to be sure before we said anything.”

  “Your father wanted to tell you,” Mom said gently. “If you’re going to be angry at anyone, be angry with me. I was the one who asked him to hold off.”

  “Hold off what?” Nick asked as Seth came to stand slightly behind him. He rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder, a calming presence. The fire in Nick’s head and chest dampened, sparks and smoke rising.

  “A note,” Dad said, raising his head and looking Nick directly in the eyes. “It wasn’t signed, but it was addressed to you.”

  Nick gaped at him. “You opened my mail? That’s a felony!”

  “Other things to focus on, Nicky,” Seth muttered.

  “I thought it was hate mail,” Dad said. “We’d already gotten a couple of pieces after Seth revealed himself. Nowhere near as much as Seth and his aunt and uncle have, but some. And it was vile, kid. Awful stuff that you didn’t need to see.”

  “We did the same for Seth,” Bob said suddenly as Martha made a small, wounded noise. “We’ve gotten a bunch of that crap, and there was no point in bringing it up. We turned it all over to Chris, but aside from it having been posted in the city, there wasn’t any way to track where it’d come from. People can be cruel, especially when they think they’re anonymous.”

  Begrudgingly, Nick knew Bob wasn’t wrong. He’d seen some of the comments left on his fics.

  “But it wasn’t like the others,” Mom said. “Aaron showed it to me. It had Owen’s Shadow Star symbol scribbled over it in black. We first thought it was a threat from someone working with Christian and Christina Lewis. That it was meant to be smoke. But it wasn’t. It was—”

  “A shadow,” Nick whispered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

  Mom nodded. “And it had three words underneath.” She breathed in deeply, letting it out slow. “‘See you soon.’”

  Seth’s grip on Nick shoulders tightened painfully, but Nick didn’t try to shove him off. It kept the worst of the panic at bay, though not all of it. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “We didn’t,” Mom said. “Because if we could have dealt with him ourselves, then there would have been no point.”

  Nick scoffed angrily. “No point? No point?” He glared at her and Dad. “We had every right to know. We’ve been out in the city on our own. He could have come after us whenever he wanted to, and we wouldn’t have seen him coming.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” Gibby said, and Nick whirled around, tamping down on the hurt that bubbled in his chest. Gibby looked apologetic, but it didn’t stop her from continuing. “We knew he’d escaped, Nick. And you know as well as I do that we’ve been keeping our eyes and ears open for any sign of him. You most of all.”

  “And we haven’t found anything,” Jazz said, moving until she stood next to her girlfriend. “Doesn’t mean we didn’t miss something, but it’s not like we weren’t already thinking about it.”

  Nick deflated. “Yeah, I know. But they still should have told us.”

  “We did,” Dad said. He held up his hands before Nick could retort. “Just now, when we confirmed he’s really here. And no, before you ask, none of the other parents knew. It was just me, your mother, and Chris.”

  Nick tried to focus, but his mind was a mess, hundreds—perhaps thousands—of thoughts screaming through his head all at once. He latched on to the first one he could. “So … what. He’s here. We knew that he might come back. But what’s he after? Me? Seth? It’s not our fault he turned out to be a dick who stole my fanfiction wholesale and tried to pass it off as his own.”

  “I think he’s after his father,” Mom said, and whatever else Nick wanted to say died in his throat. “I’m sure he’s not happy with all of you, but think, Nick. Really think. If you were Owen, who would you go after first? You and Seth? Jazz and Gibby? Or would he want revenge against the one person who made him who he is?”

  “Burke,” Nick breathed.

  Mom nodded. “You know what Burke did to him. He turned his son into…”

  “A guard dog,” Seth said grimly. “He experimented on Owen. Changed him. Made him an Extraordinary.”

  “But it won’t stop with Burke,” Nick said. “Even if that’s what his plan is, it doesn’t mean he isn’t gunning for the rest of us. Burke may have done what he did to Owen, but we’re the ones who defeated him on the bridge.”

  “Which is why we’re telling you now that we know for sure,” Mom said. “Your father and I didn’t want to worry anyone without evidence. Isn’t that right, Aaron?”

  Dad opened his mouth, but then something crossed his face—a quick flash of what looked almost like confusion—and he nodded slowly instead.

  “You still should have told us,” Trey said, speaking for the first time. “Our daughters are just as involved in this. We’ve been here before, remember? With Nick and Seth and Jazz and Gibby? Turned into this whole big thing where we agreed we weren’t going to keep secrets anymore? What the hell happened with that?”

  “Trey’s right,” Aysha said. “We should’ve heard about this weeks ago.”

  “You’re right,” Mom said quickly. “But that’s not on Aaron. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I asked that he hold off until we could be sure. I’m sorry. But believe me when I say your kids are just as important to us as Nick is. And they are safer with us than without us. I know you’d do anything to protect them, but sometimes, it takes something a little extra to ensure their safety. I have that. Mateo does, too. Seth. And Nick.”

  “We know that,” Miles said. “But if we’re going to do this, if we’re really going to be part of this, then you can’t keep stuff like this from us. Trey’s right. We should have been told as soon as you got that note.”

  “What are we going to do?” Bob asked. “If he’s here, we need to find out what he’s up to as soon as we can. Do everything to prepare.”

  Martha looked older than Nick had ever seen her. “Does Simon Burke already know? What if this is all a ruse and he’s working with Owen?”

  “Owen hates his father,” Nick said in a daze, flashbacks of being held up by shadows against a bridge rising through his head. “He wouldn’t help him with anything. Unless that’s what he wants Burke to think.”

  “Which is why you’re not going to like what I have to say next,” Mom said. “I wish there was any other way, but I don’t know if there is. I’m open to ideas, but I can’t think of how to get to Owen without showing our hand.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Great. More bad news. Fantastic. Just frickin’ peachy. What is it?”

  “We need to protect Burke. If Owen is going for him, then we need to be there when he does.”

  Everyone had an immediate opinion on this, and quite loud ones at that. They all began to talk over each other, their outrage palpable, but for what was perhaps the first time in his life, Nick didn’t join in. He let it wash over him, mouth closed. He watched his mother, his father, the stiff set to their shoulders, the way they stood side by side. A team.

  Of course, the very idea of doing anything for Burke grated against Nick harshly, but there was a sort of twisted logic to the idea. “Two birds, one stone,” he said, raising his voice, and everyone fell silent.

  Mom nodded, obviously pleased. “That’s exactly right. If we get in with Burke, that might mean we can also get to Owen.”

  A sense of savage satisfaction rolled through Nick at the idea of saving Burke from his own creation, and then flinging it back in his face. How would Simon Burke do with his anti-Extraordinary propaganda if the only reason he lived was because of Extraordinaries? Sure, he’d probably try to spin it in his favor, but he’d already be revealed as the two-faced bastard he was.

  “We don’t have to decide anything right now,” Dad said, scratching the back of his neck. “But we all need to be on guard, just in case. At least until we have a better idea of what we’re facing. Chris will use the resources at his disposal—carefully,” he added. “Cap and I can do the same. We don’t have the same access we once did, but there are still a few people loyal to us inside the NCPD in case we need something.” He tried for a reassuring smile but missed completely. “And the rest of us. No one goes anywhere alone. Always have someone with you. Eyes and ears open. Be aware of your surroundings.”

  “Let him come,” Aysha said with a sneer, her words like steel. “I’d like to see him try and hurt my daughter while I have her back. It’ll be the last thing he does.”

  “Same,” Miles said.

  “On it,” Jo said, and Nick knew she meant it. Jazz was evidence enough of that.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Mom said. “We have to. All of us. Because it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart.”

  Their mantra, the words that Nick had heard for most of his life. Their gospel truth. A tidal wave of surety washed over him. Heartened—though still more than a little furious—Nick almost felt sorry for Owen.

  He’d never see them coming.

  5

  It was a day like any other. A Friday, Nick thought, though he didn’t know how he knew it. Faintly, he remembered being at Jazz’s party, but that had been on a Saturday. Days had passed, days he couldn’t remember.

  Summer, he thought, but when he looked down at the calendar on his desk in his room, it said MARCH, and he promptly forgot about any party.

  “Spring break,” he said. “I’m on spring break.” His voice cracked. Broke. But that made sense. He was twelve years old. Puberty had come with a vengeance for one Nicholas Bell. Hair in places where none had been before, a collection of zits on his nose and forehead. The urge to stare at shirtless men on the internet and the fear of getting caught.

  “Staycation,” he said, looking around his room. “We’re—”

  Skip. Jump. Flash.

  He was on his bed. On his phone, feet kicking above his butt. He and Seth were texting back and forth. Seth, the boy whom Nick loved to look at, to see his bow ties, to see him smile. There was nothing better than Seth smiling. He knew what this meant, at least a little. He wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to give it a name, at least not yet.

  The last days of Nick’s spring break. Dad at work. He had a case that demanded all his attention. He left early. Came home late. Nick barely saw him.

  Mom, though. Mom had taken the week off with him, and that was just fine with Nick. They didn’t leave the city. They played video games, Mom spamming the buttons as colorful sprites jumped and smashed. She took him to the movies. She took him to lunch, to dinner. She packed a picnic for them to take to the park. They watched TV. They played Monopoly with cheater’s rules, meaning anyone could hold up the bank whenever they wanted.

  The bank. The bank. The bank.

  “Nicky,” Dad whispered, broken, destroyed. “Oh my god, Nicky. She’s—”

  Sometimes Seth was with them. Gibby, too. Jazz was in Europe with her parents, sending them photo after photo of waters so clear and blue, they looked unreal, as if from a dream. She said she missed them. She said while she was having fun, she couldn’t wait to come home.

  Friday morning. The last weekday before school picked up again and hurtled toward summer. Just before nine. On his bed, waiting for his phone to ping, for Seth to laugh at the text Nick had just sent. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was, but that was okay. Everything was fine, and he was thinking muddled thoughts about how nice Seth looked in a bow tie, the one with the little green frogs on it.

  A knock at his door. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “You up?” Mom asked, voice muffled.

  “Yeah,” he said, and he thought I’ve been here before, but it was without context, a fractured piece of glass with a fuzzy reflection.

  “Decent?”

  He groaned. “Mom.”

  He heard her laugh before she pushed open the door, leaning in, her long hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She grinned at him in that way she did, warm, happy, the lines around her eyes soft. “Can’t be too careful. Don’t want to interrupt you if you’re having alone time.”

  Cheeks aflame, Nick pulled the comforter up and over his head. “That was one time, and you swore you’d never bring it up again.”

  “I swore I’d try,” she countered as Nick heard her coming into the room. “And I lasted three weeks, so that should count for—dear god, kid. You need to clean your room. Clothes don’t belong on the floor. I told you to put them in the hamper. It’s literally right there next to … the … is that milk?”

  It was. He’d gotten a glass last night while on his computer, munching on stale crackers he’d found in a drawer of his desk. Then he’d been distracted by a fic he’d been reading, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was spying on him, given how … well. Given how delightfully descriptive the fic was getting. Who knew people could be so bendy?

  “Okay,” Mom said, clapping her hands. “Here’s how this is going to go. I’ve got to stop by the office real quick, and then the bank.”

  Nicky. Oh my god, Nicky. She’s—

  He blinked in slow motion.

  Time snapped back into place, and she said, “Shouldn’t take too long. While I’m gone, you’re going to make your room at least marginally habitable.”

  “I have everything where I want it,” Nick countered, still hiding under the blankets. “You’re going to mess up my system.”

  “And I feel so badly about that.”

  “Liar,” Nick muttered.

  “Or, if you want, I can pick up your underwear for you, seeing as how you think it needs to be flung onto the floor. I could probably also take care of that crusty towel if you—”

  “Mom.”

  The bed shifted as she sat down next to him. He sighed when she pulled the blanket off his head. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, pinching his cheek gently. He batted her hand away. “Rude. You should—oof, kid. What is that smell?” She grimaced as her nose wrinkled.

  “Stop smelling me!”

  “Shower,” she said. “After you clean your room. And you need a haircut. You’re looking a little shaggy. I’ll make you an appointment. See if we can get you in today. Got your meds.” She leaned back, hand going to the pocket of her tan shorts. When she pulled it back out, there, sitting on her palm, was a little familiar pill. Concentra—It’ll help you concentrate!

  Nick looked away, huffing out a breath.

  “I know, kid.”

  “You don’t,” he retorted. “Your brain isn’t broken like mine is.” He hated the pathetic whine in his voice, but he needed her to understand.

  “Look at me.”

  He did. He was helpless to do anything but.

  She wasn’t smiling anymore. If anything, she looked angry, but Nick didn’t think it was at him. “You are not broken. You never have been, and you never will be. I know you hate this. I know you wish you didn’t have ADHD, but it’s not a death sentence. You’re still you, no matter what.”

  “Yeah, well,” Nick muttered. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

  “It’s not. And you won’t hear me trying to minimize how you’re feeling about it. That wouldn’t be fair of me. This is as real for me and Dad as it is for you. But I need you to know that it doesn’t matter to us, and it’s not your fault because there’s nothing to find fault with. We’ll take you any way we can get you because you’re the greatest part of our lives.”

  Nick sighed. “Yes, counselor. You’ve made your closing arguments. The jury has reached a verdict in your favor.”

  She snorted. “Smart-ass.” She looked down at the pill in her hand. “I know it’s easier said than done to take what I’m saying to heart, but I mean it. Maybe it won’t always be this way, but even if it is, I’m going to be there to remind you when you need me to. And even when you don’t, I will because I’m your mother and I’ve earned that right.”

  He took the pill, swallowing it dry with a grimace. Obnoxiously, he opened his mouth, lifting his tongue to show he wasn’t hiding it. She didn’t give him more than a perfunctory glance. Trust, this. Layer upon layer of trust. She patted his arm before standing. “I mean it, Nick. Clean this room. If you haven’t made any headway by the time I get home, you can forget pizza with Seth and me later today. I’ll just take him out and leave you here to wallow in your filth.”

  “Seth likes me more than you,” Nick grumbled.

  “Of course he does,” Mom said, heading toward the door, grimacing as she stepped over a pile of dirty clothes. She paused a moment, smiling at a familiar picture: Nick and her, standing at the edge of an ocean, a lighthouse in the distance. “And I can’t wait for you to figure out what that means. Up, kid. Get your butt in gear. If you find mold because you live in squalor, we’re putting you up for adoption.” And then she was gone.

  Like he hadn’t heard that threat before.

  He got up. He cleaned. He texted Seth as he shoved clothes in the hamper. He laughed at Seth’s reply as he took half-empty cups down to the kitchen, including the milk. He turned up music and screamed along with the lyrics, the bones of the house rattling. He showered. He dressed.

  He stood in the middle of his room and said, “I’ve been here before. I know what this is. The phone is about to ring.” He dropped his voice to a lower register, gruff, like his father. “Nicky. Oh my god, Nicky. She’s—” A tear trickled down his cheek, his heart thundering against his rib cage, and it—