Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

7

As February wore on, winter descended on Nova City with a vengeance. Back-to-back storms locked the city down, dumping almost a foot of snow over a period of three days, beginning, unfortunately, on a Friday afternoon. The students of Centennial High were released an hour early and were told that classes were set to resume on Monday, unless the storms worsened.

Having snowstorms on the weekend with no school cancellation was, in Nick’s opinion, like getting punched in the junk and being told to be happy about it. Dad didn’t agree, but then, he seemed to be of the mind that things like education were important.

Nick frowned when he saw Dad dressed as if he were going out. It was a Saturday, and though there had been a break in the snow, he should have been in sweats like Nick and parked in front of the television. “Are you leaving?”

Dad nodded. “Meeting up with Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents for lunch.”

Nick froze. He hadn’t heard much about them since they’d all convened at the Gray house—at least, not from Dad. “Is that a good thing?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” Dad said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. “But I’m going anyway, because it’s the right thing to do. The very least I can do is make myself available to answer any questions they have. And even if they tear me a new one, I’m going to listen. Doesn’t matter what age you are, you still need to own up to your mistakes. It can help make you a better person.”

Nick sighed. “That’s very mature of you. Still, it sounds like a weird support group for people whose kids—”

“—continually put themselves in danger?”

“We do not—”

“Nick.” Dad reached down and poked his cheek. “I’m going to stop by the station after to catch up on paperwork, but I’ll be home before too late. And get your butt off the couch, kiddo. I want all the Christmas decorations taken down by the time I get back. No excuses. It’s February. It’s starting to get embarrassing.” He headed for the door.

“What?” Nick bellowed after him. “Do you have any idea how much crap we put up? That’ll take forever!”

“Then you better get started,” Dad called back. “I don’t want to see anything holiday-related when I get home. Boxes and plastic tubs are in the attic.”

Nick groaned as the front door closed. He was starting to see why people had kids: child labor. That was the only reason. He looked forlornly at the television, his plans of mindless entertainment evaporating. His promising Saturday was turning to shit.

He picked up his phone and texted Seth about the prison conditions of his current living situation. Seth responded almost immediately, saying that he was working with Gibby to figure out how to use all the new equipment in the lair. Nick was supposed to go over later, but Dad apparently thought Nick didn’t deserve to have anything resembling a life.

He was about to throw down his phone when he got another text. Jazz.

U up?

It’s eleven in the morning. It sounds like ur hitting on me.

Gross. U would know if I was. Can I come over?

Need a friend.

Nick frowned. He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk with her since finding out that Gibby might be leaving. Howard University was in Washington, DC. Planes were expensive. The train was cheaper, but it would take hours to get there. He didn’t know if she’d made any decisions, but he’d been too scared to ask. He should’ve talked to Jazz sooner about it. This affected them all, but her the most.

Yep! Come over. Need me to meet u and walk with u?

Already here.

He jerked his head up when a knock came at the door. Oof. Must have been worse than he thought. He climbed over the back of the couch, almost falling but managing to stay upright. The Concentra made him a little tired today. At least he didn’t have a headache.

He opened the door, a wave of cold air washing over him. Jazz stood on the porch, her scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she obviously smiled beneath the scarf. He hoped that was a good sign.

He pulled her in, closing the door behind them. Jazz unraveled her scarf as he brushed the flecks of snow from her coat. “Hey,” she said. “Sorry for dropping by all of a sudden.”

“No worries. Your timing is impeccable. I’ve been given the Herculean task of taking down the Christmas decorations. You can help if you want.”

“Lucky me,” she murmured, hanging her coat on the hook near the door. “Your dad’s gone, right?”

Nick eyed her suspiciously. “You knew about the whole support group thing?”

“Found out about it this morning. I’m choosing to believe it’s a good sign.”

“Or they’re all plotting our doom.”

She waved him off. “Either way, at least they’re all talking. Could be worse. They could’ve said I wasn’t allowed to hang out with all of you anymore.”

Nick winced as he led her into the kitchen. “They’d really do that?” He began to prepare her a cup of tea, using the tea bags he kept only for her.

She hopped up onto the counter, swinging her feet. “No. I don’t think so. Daddy was too excited about the secret lair. Bob sold him with the pocket door. Mom was less impressed, but I think she’s coming around. Might be some changes, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Nick told her, watching the water heat in the microwave. “It’s not as if anyone has tried to kill us since Owen.”

“Maybe leave that part of the argument out,” she suggested. “Just in case.”

He took the mug from the microwave, dropping the tea bag inside and handing it to her. She thanked him as he jumped up onto the counter beside her, their shoulders bumping together. “Everything else all right?”

She blinked rapidly as she looked down at the tea. She shrugged but didn’t speak.

Nope. Not all right. Nick wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Gibby, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Gibby.”

Nick thought hard. She deserved his all. “Remember what you told me back in the hospital?”

She sniffled as she shook her head.

“No matter what happens in the future, she loves you here, in this moment. You gotta have faith, because she has faith in you.”

“I said that?”

“You did. And it’s exactly what I needed to hear. There was a bunch of other stuff I’m leaving out, but that stuck with me. You were right then, and you’re right now. You’re awesome, Jazz. You helped me when I needed you most, even if I didn’t realize it then.”

“We’re pretty great, aren’t we?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I think we are. And Seth and Gibby know it too. It’s why they picked us.”

“Things are changing,” she whispered.

Oh, man. He really should’ve talked to her sooner. “Maybe. And it might suck, but it doesn’t make us matter any less.” He watched as she took a small sip of her tea, ignoring the twinge in his head. “She’s gonna do what she has to, and if she goes to Howard or stays here, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

Because if it wasn’t okay for them, then it might not be okay for him and Seth, and that was something he didn’t even want to consider. “I have to hope it will be. We can’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but if we spend all our time focusing on what might happen, we could end up missing what does happen.”

She wiped her eyes. Nick, ever the gentleman, ripped off a paper towel and handed it over. “Sorry. We’re out of Kleenex.”

She was quiet for a long moment, clutching her mug in one hand, the paper towel crumpled in the other. Then, “What about you? You doing all right?”

He shrugged. “I think so. Seth seems to be coming around, but I’m not going to force him into doing anything he doesn’t want to do. It’s a give-and-take, you know? As long as you give only as much as you take, it’ll be all right. Cosmo taught me that.”

She bumped his shoulder, tea sloshing in the mug. “You tell Seth you love him yet?”

Nick’s mouth went instantly dry. No. No, he hadn’t. It felt too big, too wild. He wasn’t even sure what it meant.

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “I’ll take that gaping fish look you’ve got going on as a no. What about prom?”

Nick, still in the process of rebooting his frazzled brain, said, “What about prom?”

“It’s next month,” she said. “Think about it: a romantic night, you and Seth slow dancing. It’d be the perfect time to tell him.”

Nick turned slowly to stare at her, eyes bulging. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think about that. What if he’s expecting something big? Like, a declaration? A love declaration?” He began to panic. “I haven’t even made a reservation! Wait—hold on. How in the hell do I make reservations?”

“Have you even asked him yet?”

“No,” Nick whispered feverishly.

Jazz sighed. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the reservation. You still want to do a double date?”

“Do I have to buy him a present on top of paying for dinner?” Nick demanded. “I have, like, twelve dollars. How the hell am I supposed to pay for a present and dinner? Unless we go to McDonald’s and get sad little hamburgers. That’s romantic, right? I think we have candles somewhere. I could bring those.” He groaned. “Relationships are expensive. What am I supposed to buy my boyfriend who can fly?”

“I think you’re probably the first person to ever say that sentence.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered. “Gay freakin’ rights.”

“Come on,” she said, jumping down from the counter. “I’ll help you with the decorations, and we can plan something that’ll be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. How do you feel about flash mobs?”

“Badly,” Nick said, “as everyone should.”

“Well, we’ve got time. And since it’s up to me to plan everything, we’re all going to coordinate our outfits, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Why do I have to be the one to ask him?” Nick asked, following her toward the stairs. “That sounds sexist. Okay, not really because we’re both dudes, but still. Down with the patriarchy!”

She laughed, looking startled as she did so, and Nick grinned at her.

Nick would remember this moment, here, right before everything changed. Jazz was still a little down, but he had her laughing again before too long. He couldn’t fly or shoot lasers out of his eyes, but he could help people when they were feeling low. It might not be as impressive as a superhero, but the little things mattered too.

And that line of thinking was what he’d remember most.

Once they had a pile of decorations ready to be boxed up and stored away, Nick went to the small hatch in the ceiling of the hallway. He reached up and pulled the thin string to lower the lid to the hatch and the rickety ladder hidden therein. He jumped back as the ladder slid down and clunked against the floor.

“I’ll go up first,” he said, “in case there are spiders.”

Jazz snorted. “Yeah, because the last time there was supposed to be a spider, you acted like a knight in shining armor.”

He climbed the ladder into semidarkness, weak light coming in from a circular window at the front of the house. Boxes and plastic tubs lined the attic. He rubbed his hand against the wall until he found the light switch. He flipped it on, listening in case anything alive scurried around. Nothing did. The house creaked and settled, but nothing seemed to be crawling in his direction.

“Okay,” he called down as he scanned the attic. “Bunch of boxes up here. I’ll hand them down to you. Cool?”

“Cool,” she said at the bottom of the ladder.

He grunted as he pulled himself up. The ceiling was vaulted, coming together like the top of a triangle. He could stand at full height, but only in the middle of the room. Thankfully, Dad hadn’t pushed the boxes too far back when they’d finished decorating. Nick made quick work of it, picking up a box or tub and handing it down the ladder to Jazz, who stacked them on the floor. She’d turned on music on her phone, and by the time he picked up the last box, they were both singing at the tops of their lungs, Nick going falsetto, causing Jazz to wrinkle her nose and tell him to keep his day job. It was good.

He was about to turn around and climb down the ladder when something caught his eye. In the back corner of the attic, a low glint flashed from the light of the bare bulb. He frowned, letting go of the ladder.

“Is that it?” Jazz called up.

“Hold on a second. There’s something up here.”

“That’s how horror movies start. Don’t be the stupid white guy who needs to check things out.”

Nick scoffed as he pushed his way further into the attic, moving dusty boxes to give him room. “I’m queer. That means I’d at least survive until halfway through the movie.”

“I have questions about your logic.”

“Most do,” he muttered. He grunted as he lifted a heavy box marked RECORDS, a memory flitting about in the back of his mind like a little bird: his mother, pulling a black record from its sleeve and telling Nick there wasn’t anything quite like the Rat Pack, lowering the needle to the record and Frank beginning to sing about how the best was yet to come.

Without realizing it, Nick began to hum along with the ghost in his head. He only stopped when he saw what had caught his attention.

An old, gray television was plugged into the only outlet in the attic. The top of it was covered in a thin layer of dust, though the screen looked as if it’d been wiped clean recently. Below the screen was a rectangular slot. It took Nick a moment to realize what it was for. A tape player. A VCR. He crouched down in front of the TV, pushing back the flap of the VCR.

Inside was a tape.

“How did people live without streaming?” Nick wondered aloud as he dropped the flap, looking around. Next to the TV was a cardboard box, unmarked. He lifted the lid. Inside were stacks of tapes without labels. He turned back to the TV and pressed the power button, blinking against the blue wash that covered the screen.

“I swear to god, if this is one of Dad’s pornos, I’m going to be scarred forever,” he mumbled.

He pressed play.

The VCR whirred and clicked as the tape began to play.

A park. The sun was shining. Summer, maybe? The trees were green, and the sky was so blue it looked fake. Clouds, thick and fluffy, hung suspended in the sky. And then the camera swung down to show a blanket spread out on the grass, the remains of a meal lying discarded—and a woman sitting on the blanket, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

Nick fell back against the floor, mouth open but no sound coming out.

Jennifer Bell said, “What are you doing? Are you filming me?” She shook her head as she smiled. “Stop it. I’m not wearing any makeup.”

And then Dad said, “You’re beautiful. The camera loves you, baby.”

She laughed, and Nick couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get air into his lungs, because he’d never seen this before. He’d never known these memories existed. Anger, quick and bright, roared through him, but he shoved it away as he continued to watch.

The bottom of the screen showed the date in white letters and numbers. A few years before he’d been born.

The camera zoomed in on her face as she blushed. “There it is,” Dad said, and he sounded so happy—so free—that Nick had to rub the ache in his chest. “Hello, wife.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hello, husband. You still say it like it’s a new thing. We’ve been married for four years.”

“I want everyone to know,” Dad said. He raised his voice to a shout. “This is my wife and I love her!” The screen shook as Dad spun the camera. “Do you hear me, world? This is my wife and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Oh my god, stop,” Mom said, though she didn’t seem like she meant it. “You’re such a dork.”

“Nah,” Dad said easily as he focused on her again. “I want everyone in the park to know I love you.”

“I think they get it,” she said, and she gave the camera a funny little smile, one that Nick recognized from the mirror. He looked like her. He sounded like her. How the hell could Dad stand to be in his presence when Before had become After? “You’re going to get us in trouble. What are you going to do when the police come and ask about the crazy man with the camera?”

“Noted,” Dad said. “Wouldn’t want the police. They’d just put you to work again.”

Her smile faded. “I told you, Aaron. Today isn’t about that. I’m here, okay? You and me.”

Dad sighed. “Yeah, I know. That was a shitty thing to say. Hey, I’m sorry.”

Mom looked relieved. “And I accept your apology. Come on. Lie down with me. Let’s look at the clouds and see what we see.”

And they did, though the camera shot never really left Mom’s face. They were speaking in low tones, saying that cloud looked like a dog, and that cloud looked like a dragon, see? There’s the tail. The wings. The head with the horns.

“Nick?”

He jerked his head back toward the hatch. Jazz was climbing up into the attic, a concerned expression on her face. They both startled when a box near her suddenly jumped and fell over against the wall. “Uh,” she said, “that was weird. How did— Oh, Nicky. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

He reached up and touched his cheeks. His fingers came away wet. “Look,” he said in a choked voice. He turned back to the TV as Jazz moved toward him.

She settled next to him on her knees just as Mom turned her face toward the camera. Her eyes were bright and knowing. “This is a good day,” she whispered.

“The best,” Dad whispered back.

“Is that—” Jazz leaned forward, face inches from the screen. “That’s your mom.”

Nick nodded dumbly.

“She looks like I remember,” Jazz said quietly as she sat back on her legs. “Maybe a little younger, but almost the same.”

“I’ve never seen this before,” Nick said dully. “Dad never told me.”

Jazz took his hand in hers. “Maybe he forgot.”

Nick shook his head. “The screen was recently cleaned. I think—I think he comes up here and watches this.” He waved his hand toward the box next to the TV. “There are more tapes in there.”

She frowned as Nick’s mom and dad whispered back and forth. “Why wouldn’t he tell you about these?”

“I don’t know.”

She squeezed his hand.

Secrets. It felt like more secrets.

The video lasted a few minutes more before the screen once again turned blue. He hit the fast-forward button, but nothing else came up.

He could’ve left it there. He could’ve turned off the television and gone back down the ladder and done what Dad had asked him to do. Later, when Dad came home, he’d tell him what he’d found, and maybe he’d be a little pissed off, but he’d give Dad the benefit of the doubt. This tape was innocent. Maybe the rest weren’t, and Nick didn’t want to see things he shouldn’t. If they were private, then Nick needed to respect that. Dad was allowed to have his own way of coping with his grief.

Except …

This was his mother.

Nick ejected the tape and set it on top of the TV. He grabbed the box, pulling it toward him as Jazz peered over his shoulder. He riffled through the tapes, not knowing what he was looking for. Unmarked. Unmarked. Unmarked. All of them were unmarked. He was about to pick one off the stack he’d made next to them when he saw a flash of white near the bottom of the box. He pulled the tape out.

There, across the front, was a label. And on this label, written in her familiar messy scrawl, were two words:

the truth

A little voice in the back of his head whispered he should stop while he still could, that whatever was on this tape could only lead to him hurting more than he already was. He barely noticed when the bulb above them flared, Jazz tilting her head back and murmuring, “These power surges. I don’t know why they keep happening in your neighborhood.”

He pushed the tape into the TV.

Mom appeared on-screen, her face close as she adjusted the camera. The date blinked at the bottom. It took Nick a moment to place when this was. She and Dad would have still been in school. Their last year, maybe. Or second to last. Not married yet. It’d be a few more years before that happened.

He didn’t recognize where she was. It looked like the living room of a small apartment. She frowned as she fiddled with the camera again, her light hair falling on her shoulders. She huffed out a breath of air, causing her bangs to flutter. She stood upright, taking steps back until she was standing in front of the camera. She wore jeans and a white shirt covered in cerulean blue stars. Her feet were bare.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s time. I’ve thought this through. I hope.” She shook her head. “They’ll be here in a minute, so I’ve got to be sure.” She wiggled her shoulders as she took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m so scared. I hope they see past that for what this is.” She gnawed a thumbnail before wringing her hands. “I can’t do this on my own anymore.”

“What’s she talking about?” Jazz whispered.

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Maybe she’s—”

On the television, a doorbell chimed. “Coming!” Mom shouted, stepping off-screen. An awful paisley couch lined the wall behind her, and Nick laughed wetly at the Backstreet Boys poster hanging above it. At least he knew where he got his taste for terrible music.

Other voices spoke, but they were low and Nick couldn’t pick out the words. Shadows played along the walls and floor from the afternoon sunlight. Nick thought there were two more people coming into the apartment.

Mom reappeared first, looking nervous. She was smiling, but the edges of it curled down, as if her mouth couldn’t support the weight of it. “Stop it with that look. I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t,” Dad said, and Nick knew that tone. Dad had been thinking exactly that. “But even if you were, we’d deal with it together.” Dad moved into view, shoulders stiff, a worried look on his face. His hair was longer, hanging almost to his shoulders. He looked barely older than Nick did, skinny and awkward.

Mom snorted as she shoved him onto the couch. “‘Deal with it.’ Just what every girl wants to hear.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dad protested feebly. He looked off-screen. “Tell her.”

Another voice spoke, causing Nick’s blood to turn to ice. “He didn’t mean it like that. But I’ll admit I was thinking it, too, and I didn’t want to be here for that conversation. I get that we’re best friends, but I don’t think I’m ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s how it works, man,” Dad said as Simon Burke appeared on-screen. He moved through the room as if he’d been there countless times, kicking off his shoes and settling on the couch next to Dad, slinging an arm over his shoulders. He looked so much like Owen that Nick couldn’t do anything but breathe through the storm in his head.

“Nicky,” Jazz whispered. “Maybe we shouldn’t be watching this.”

Nick ignored her, glaring at Burke as he smiled at Mom. “Okay, you’re not pregnant. That’s good. It means Aaron remembered to wrap it, like I told him to. Still doesn’t explain why we’re here.” His gaze drifted until it settled on the camera. He squinted at it. “Are you recording this?”

Mom nodded as Dad craned his neck around her to see what Burke was looking at. “For posterity. And I have a feeling you’re going to want to watch it after I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Dad asked, pushing Burke’s arm off him. “What’s going on, Jenny? You’re starting to freak me out.”

She fidgeted, moving like she didn’t know how to stop. Nick was struck once again by how he took after her. She couldn’t keep still, and Nick thought it was more than just nerves. What if she’d been like him? ADHD was genetic, right?

“Okay,” Mom said. “I’m going to show you something, and you’ll have a billion questions, but I ask that you … wait until I’m done. I don’t have anyone else I trust that I can show this to. I didn’t get a chance to talk about it with Mom before she died, and Dad’s been gone for years, so no help there.”

Dad paled. “Are you sick?”

She laughed, but it wasn’t like the day in the park in their future. It was fragile and soft, like she was scared. “No. Not—not in the way you’re thinking. It’s nothing bad, but some might see it that way, which is why I’ve kept this to myself for as long as I have.”

“What is it?” Burke asked. “Jenny, you can tell us anything. We’re here for you.”

“I know,” Mom said, glancing over her shoulder at the camera. “And that’s why I asked you both to come here today. Aaron, because I love you and this might affect you, too, one day, if we decide to have a family. Simon, because I need your brain. You’re smart, and if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.”

Burke arched an eyebrow, and Nick wanted to smash his face in. “Consider my interest piqued.”

“Okay,” she said. “Just … hold on.” She stepped off-screen once more, Dad’s and Burke’s gazes following her. She reappeared only a moment later, holding a clear plastic cup filled with what looked like water. She set it down on the cheap coffee table in front of the couch. The two men leaned forward with interest, Burke’s gaze narrowing as he stared at the cup, Dad looking up from the table at Mom, confused. Mom took a step back from the table so the camera had a clear view. She said, “You might want to sit back,” as she raised her right hand, palm outstretched toward the cup.

Dad did so immediately. Burke hesitated but followed suit.

“What’s she doing?” Jazz asked as a buzzing noise began to fill Nick’s ears.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Like, a magic trick? She’s—”

The cup shook slightly as if someone had kicked the table, the water rippling.

Dad’s eyes bulged. “What was that? An earthquake? I felt it in the couch. Jenny, you—”

“Hush,” she said. “I need to focus.” She crooked her fingers like little claws before taking a deep breath, letting it out slow. The cup twitched before rising off the table in midair, spinning end over end without spilling any water. It lowered back to the table. Her fingers twitched as her brow furrowed. Instead of the cup lifting off the table once more, the water did, rising like it was sentient, limbs reaching out and gripping the edge of the cup. The water—the goddamn water—pulled itself out of the cup, quivering but holding together. The glass toppled over, but the water didn’t spill and splash out. It formed a small translucent ball, glittering in the sunlight pouring in from a window out of sight.

The water ball began to stretch until it was at least a foot long, a thin strand whose surface rippled like a rock thrown into a pond.

“Oh my god,” Dad and Nick breathed at the same time.

Mom glanced back at the camera again, a trickle of sweat sliding down her cheek. When she looked back at the water, the ends of the strand connected, forming a circle. It widened as it moved above her. She lowered her hand, the circle descending until it passed her head, her shoulders, her arms, her chest to her waist. She shimmied her hips a little, and the water bounced back and forth, wetting her shirt slightly when it touched her.

“A hula hoop,” she said. “Funny, right?”

Dad gaped at her. “Funny? Funny? Jenny, what the hell? How are you doing this?”

Burke didn’t look away from the sight in front of him. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. Nick didn’t like the expression on his face. It was off, somehow, and hungry. “Psychokinesis. Telekinesis. The same thing, for all intents and purposes.”

The water burst apart and fell onto the carpet, splashing against her feet. She grimaced, raising each foot and shaking the droplets off. “That’s what I need you for. I don’t understand what this is. It’s always been with me, for as long as I could remember. This is the least of what I can do.” Her voice cracked when she said, “Aaron. Please. Say something. I wasn’t trying to keep this from you. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Dad demanded.

Burke put his hand on Dad’s arm. “Aaron, don’t you know what this means?” He smiled as he looked back at Mom. “She’s an Extraordinary.”

The lightbulb hanging in the attic exploded with an electrical snarl, glass falling onto the floor. Nick and Jazz screamed as the television began rocking back and forth, the screen cracking as the picture from years before went black. The TV fell over, the cord pulling from the socket and whipping around, almost hitting Nick in the face. He stumbled back on his butt, crab-walking as the TV fell forward, something inside breaking.

Silence fell.

And it was in this silence that Nick realized he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t focus. The knot in his head and chest writhed as the fractured bulb swung back and forth on its chain. He was nearly blind with panic, his breath whistling out his nose. Flashes of light burst across his vision. The walls began to close in around him.

He flinched when he felt hands on him, rubbing up and down his back. Through the storm in his head, he heard Jazz’s worried voice. “Breathe, Nicky. Come on. You can do this. Breathe, just breathe. In. In, Nick.”

He couldn’t do what she was asking. His lungs didn’t work. They were dead in his chest, his skin clammy. He was cold. He’d never been so cold in his life. He tried to inhale. It didn’t work. The attic became hazy around him, the shadows bled together, and Jazz was demanding that he take a breath right this second or she was going to call 911.

He gasped in a breath. His chest expanded to the point he thought his ribs would crack. He exhaled explosively before drawing another breath, holding it as best he could.

“Good,” Jazz said. “Again. In, Nick.”

He did. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Out. In out in out in—

And then he began to cry, choked, weak sobs that echoed in the attic around them.

Jazz lifted his head while she scooted underneath him, letting him rest against her legs. She put her hands in his hair, whispering that he was all right, they were all right, let it out, Nicky, let it out.

He did. A hole opened in his chest, and from it crawled the ugly monster of grief.

He didn’t know how long it took for him to come back to himself. All he knew was that when his vision finally cleared, the light from the attic window was off, as if it were late afternoon. Jazz was humming quietly, staring off into nothing as she stroked his hair.

“Sorry,” he said, closing his eyes against the embarrassment that roared through him.

“Yeah,” she said. “I kind of think that’s not something you need to apologize for.” Her hand paused in his hair. “Better?”

“I have no idea.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at his leaking nose.

“Good answer,” she said, tracing a fingernail over his eyebrows. “You want to know what I think?”

He nodded tiredly.

She said, “I think your mother loved you very much, and if she kept things from you, then she had her reasons. Same with your dad. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you.”

“Except tell me the truth,” Nick said bitterly.

“Yeah, there is that. But what if …” She trailed off, looking at the broken television. She stiffened, turning back slowly toward Nick, her eyes wide. “The TV.” There was something in her voice, something Nick couldn’t quite place. “The light bulb.” She paled. “The bridge. Oh my god, Nick. The bridge.”

Nick struggled to follow her line of thinking, his own thoughts a chaotic mess. “What are you—McManus Bridge?”

“You fell, Nick. You should’ve died. But you didn’t. Everything collapsed around you, all that metal, and it should’ve crushed you flat onto the pavement. But it just … stopped. Like you did. Floating. Like a cup. Like … water.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Nick. Nick. Don’t you see?”

Gooseflesh prickled along his arms, skin thrumming. “See what?”

And Jasmine Kensington said, “What if it’s genetic? What if you have what she had? Nicky, what if you’ve been an Extraordinary all along?”

And that’s why I asked you both to come here today. Aaron, because I love you and this might affect you, too, one day, if we decide to have a family.

Nick gaped at her as his mind shorted out in a furious burst of sparks. “What in the actual fu—”