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6
On a good day, Nick had to push himself to focus. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, and he had hope he’d eventually become one of those lucky adults whose symptoms of attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder lessened with age. But he wasn’t kidding himself in thinking he’d ever be free of it: a kid with ADHD became a teenager with ADHD who turned into an adult with ADHD. That was his lot in life. It sucked, but it wasn’t a death sentence. He’d been on Concentra long enough now that it had evened out, and his mind was clearer and sharper than it’d been in a long time. He dutifully took his pills as instructed, knowing they were meant to help him, even if the source of the pills was now something he questioned.
And yet, no matter what it came down to, no matter how old he got or if he was finally on the right meds, his brain was wired differently. And though the bad days were few and far between, he still had them.Thosedays were when his thoughts were a jumbled knot in his head, and no matter how much he tugged on individual strands, it only made the knot tighter.Thosedays were when he felt like he was vibrating out of his skin, unable to sit still for any length of time. He fidgeted. He tapped his foot. He rapped his fingers against his thighs and the top of his desk. He clicked his pen again and again. It wasn’t quite spiraling, not like when he had panic attacks and he couldn’t breathe.
But it still sucked, especially on this particular Monday morning in February. Heknewhe was escalating, the battery that was his brain overloaded by a power surge. He tried to stop it, tried to calm himself by doing what he’d been taught: clearing his mind to thebest of his ability, picking one thing to focus on, and breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.
It didn’t work.
All he could think about was the invasion of his privacy—Rebecca Firestone using an intimate moment against him, like she had any right.
“She can kiss my ass,” Nick muttered as he scribbled circles in his notebook. “She’s lucky I don’t have powers and justbam.Pow!”
It was about this time that he became aware of his surroundings to discover that he was in the middle of second period (American Lit) and the teacher (a frizzy lady named Mrs. Werner) and his classmates were staring at him, some already whispering.
Nick blinked. Second period? What the hell had happened in first? Oh man, he hoped there hadn’t been a pop quiz. He’d boffed it for sure if there was. And it’d be exactly like Hanson to give a trig pop quiz first thing on a Monday morning. He slumped lower in his chair, smiling widely to let Mrs. Werner know he was here and ready to listen to her drone on and on about allegory and blah, blah, blah.
It must have worked, because she resumed and everyone turned back toward the front of the class.
A moment later, he was lost in his thoughts again, picking through the knot in his head, tugging, tugging, tugging on the loose strands, trying to find one that would pull free. It was allDadandSethandBurke, Burke, Burke,which caused a low wave of anger to wash over him. The lights in the room buzzed loudly. In the corner, one shorted out completely with a low pop. No one paid it any mind. They were in a public school, after all. Things broke all the time.
We need to put on a united front before Seth gets here,” he announced as soon as he sat down at their lunch table. The cafeteria was loud today, since most students were indoors, given how cold it was outside. The flurries were supposed to switch to full-on snow at some point, but so far, it was holding off. It didn’t helpthat a group of the most popular kids in school were hanging banners for an event he’d totally spaced on. The biggest banner read:CENTENNIAL HIGH PROM COMING SOON!A NIGHT TO REMEMBER!
This was the first year they’d get to go, given that it was only for juniors and seniors. Gibby could’ve gone last year with Jazz, but they’d ended up watching terrible monster movies with Nick and Seth instead. Gibby hadn’t seemed to mind at all, but when Jazz had asked her to the prom this year, she’d rolled her eyes, all while fighting a smile. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
Nick hadn’t asked Seth yet, nor had Seth asked him.Cosmohad taught him he should never assume, so he needed to plan the biggest, most elaborate promposal ever, making every other promposal look like crap.
They looked at him quizzically, Gibby arching an eyebrow and Jazz giving Nick a little wave. He set his backpack on the table next to him, digging around until he found the brown paper bag that held his lunch: a smashed sandwich, pulverized chips, and a bruised banana. The feast of kings.
Gibby had a basket filled with french fries, something Nick longed for but didn’t dare. Ever since Seth had revealed his muscles, Nick had paid closer attention to what he ate. Seth assured him time and time again that he’d like Nick no matter what shape or size he was, and while that filled Nick with so much joy he’d thought he’d burst, Seth also had at least three abs whereas Nick had none.
Jazz had what looked to be pineapple chicken over shredded cabbage. He briefly wondered if her parents loved her before shaking his head. Bigger things to focus on.
“Still on that, huh?” Gibby asked. “Thinking about it all morning?”
“Of course I have,” Nick hissed as he leaned forward. He looked around suspiciously. No one seemed to be trying to listen in, but that didn’t mean theyweren’teither. “Who does Rebecca Firestone think she is?No one, that’s who. And that bullshit about an anonymous source? Lie. All lies. She’s obviously stalking me, and I’m going to get her so fired.”
“Why is she stalking you?” Jazz asked, daintily wiping hermouth with a cloth napkin. “And can’t you say that Seth was cosplaying or something?”
Nick stared at her. “Cosplaying? In January? It’s not even Extraordinaries Con season! Youknowthat doesn’t happen until October.”
“So? My parents go to parties all the time that I’m not supposed to know about where they’re in costumes.” She smiled. “They call them ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ parties, whatever that means.”
“What do they do there?” Gibby asked.
Jazz shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably talk about market shares and yachts. I think it’s like a slumber party for adults.”
“I don’t get rich people,” Nick lamented. “Like, why would you—no, you know what? Focus. Stalking.”
Gibby looked troubled. She reached over and took Nick’s jittery hand in her own, squeezing tightly. “You need to be careful. All of us do, but especially you and Seth. Even if it wasn’t Firestone who took the picture, she’s not going to let this go.”
“Oh, I know,” Nick said. “Like a dog with a bone, that one.” He sighed. “You know what? That’s mean, even if it’s Rebecca Firestone. She’s a woman who’s worked hard to get where she’s at in a male-dominated industry that—What the hell am I saying? Screw her!”
Gibby and Jazz exchanged a glance. “I think you’re allowed this one,” Gibby said.
“Damn right I am,” Nick said, pulling his hand back to open his lunch. “You know what? I should’ve seen this coming. They have to be working together. It’s the only thing that makes sense. After Burke kidnapped me over the weekend and—”
“What?” Gibby asked sharply.
