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15
Monday sucked.
Mondays usually did, but this was worse.
Nick thought they’d prepared for it, thought they’d covered all their bases, but the moment he stepped into Centennial High on that cold morning—Seth at his side, Gibby and Jazz ahead of them—Nick knew immediately they’d made a mistake.
“Oh no,” he whispered as people turned to stare at them as they walked down the hall toward their lockers.
“He’s here!” one person whispered furiously.
“Talk to him!”
“Find out what he knows!”
“A million dollars, amilliondollars! My dad said that if we get that, we can finally go on vacation somewhere that doesn’t involve a giant ball of yarn.”
“Nick! Hey, Nick!”
“Nick, over here!”
“Nick! Just the guy I was looking for. Hey, man. How are you? Good weekend?”
Nick glared at the hand on his arm. The douchebro removed it slowly but didn’t step back. People began to crowd around them, following them down the hall as they called Nick’s name, trying to get his attention.
“Backoff,” Gibby snarled. “Don’t make me sic Jazz on you.”
“I’m dangerous,” Jazz said sweetly. “I’ll make you bleed, though I won’t be happy about it. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of cashmere?”
But they wouldn’t be deterred.
For the first time in his life, Nick was relieved to see the rheumy gaze of Mr. Hanson, his trig teacher who thought Nick should constantly be in detention for having ideas. Hanson glared at the kids behind them. “You have classes to get to,” he said, the warning in his voice clear. “I suggest you move before we have a problem.”
“I’m Pyro Storm,” Seth said.
The students who hadn’t scattered all turned slowly to stare at him as Nick did the same, eyes bulging. Jazz’s jaw dropped, and Gibby sighed as if she couldn’t be bothered to deal with the idiocy of teenage boys.
Hanson snorted. “Gray, next time you tell a joke, try something that’s funny—or even remotely believable. Otherwise, it’s just sad.” He shook his head and turned on his heels, marching down the hall toward his classroom as the warning bell rang around them, the other students whispering as they left.
Nick whirled on Seth. “What thehell, dude? We’re blurting out your secret identity now? Maybe warn me next time. Like, I can totally back you up on it and stuff. I wasn’t ready.”
Seth sighed. “Sure, Nick. I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Come on,” Jazz said. “Let’s get through the day. If that’s the worst of it, we’ll be all right.”
It wasn’t the worst of it.
All day, people came up to Nick, some of them asking outright who Pyro Storm was, others trying to act like they were Nick’s friend. Normally, Nick would’ve been extremely on board with all this attention, but when it came in the middle of class while he was pretending to pay attention? Yeah, that wasn’t the best. Case in point: the girl at the desk next to his leaned over and whispered rather aggressively that she’d rock his world if he wanted, trailing a bright pink fingernail down his arm, biting her lip seductively.
“No thanks,” Nick said. “I’m super gay, so.”
She blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Like, full-on queer and junk.”
“Oh,” she said. “My brother’s gay too, and apparently peoplethink he’s really hot—which, gross, but yay for you! I’ll give you his phone number, and he’ll—”
“We’re in the middle of atest,” Nick hissed at her. He looked around the class, finding that everyone was listening in, even if they were trying to hide it. Including the teacher. “Stop interrupting my learning by offering me your brother!”
