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He fell down the ladder to avoid getting hit in the face by the two remaining glasses. He landed on his back at the bottom of the ladder, Jazz standing over him, her hair hanging down around her face.
A loud crash came from above them, and he barely had time to recover when Jazz hooked her hands in his armpits from behind,pulling him away as the pile of Christmas decorations they’d gathered began to rise from the floor. The garland swirled. The lights blinked green and red and blue. The photographs hanging on the wall began to rattle.
“We need to get out of here,” Jazz breathed in his ear as a box fell down the ladder and split apart before its contents, too, began to move. “Go, go,go!”
They went, flying down the stairs even as the railing creaked and groaned, the wooden slats of the steps shaking. It felt like an earthquake, the very floor vibrating beneath their feet. Jazz jumped from the last few steps, and almost fell over when the rug leading toward the front door slid out from underneath her feet, twisting like a snake. He grabbed her before she could fall, and they both hit the door at the same time. She grabbed her coat off the hook, throwing one of Nick’s hoodies at him as he gripped the doorknob.
Outside, the cold air was a punch in the face. Nick immediately began to shiver as he slammed the door behind them. Through the frosted glass, he could see things still moving inside. He backed away slowly.
“We’re good,” Jazz panted. “We’re safe. It’s over.”
They both screamed when the rug from the hallway smashed against the inside of the door, causing it to rattle in its frame.
“Run!” Nick cried.
They ran.
They made it to the sidewalk as Nick struggled to pull the hoodie up and over him. He got his head through, ready to tell Jazz she was never allowed to have ideas again, when the alarm of the car closest to them began to blare. As did the SUV behind it. And another car. And another. And another.
And then one of the cars covered in a thin crust of snow began to bounce on its tires, the frame squealing. Nick’s next-door neighbor—a man with the amazing name of Percival Axworthy—came onto the porch, his car keys in hand. He frowned as he repeatedly hitthe button to turn the alarm off. Instead of silencing it, the car—a 1982 Chevy Citation that Percival had lovingly restored for reasons Nick didn’t understand, given how ugly it was—launched ten feet into the air before crashing back down onto the road, the windows blowing out, glass spraying in glittering arcs.
“I’m sorry!” Nick shouted as Jazz pulled him down the sidewalk. “Call your insurance company and file a claim!”
Percival didn’t seem to hear him, staring, dumbfounded, as one of the tires of his beloved car deflated with a comical wheeze.
“Gibby,” Jazz was saying into her phone. “We have a—would youlistento me? Yes, I’m yelling! This is a perfect time for yelling! Where’s Seth?” They both almost slipped when the meters began spewing coins onto the sidewalk, people already taking out their phones and beginning to record the mayhem. “What do you mean he went out? Dammit, fine. No, don’t. Stay where you are. We’re going to go find Nick’s—” The phone flew from her hands. They watched as it flew up into the air and landed on the roof of the apartment building across the street.
“Um,” Nick said. “My bad?”
“Yeah,” Jazz said faintly. “That’s your bad. Daddy’s going to be pissed that I lost another phone.”
They began to push through the crowd that had stopped to stare at the destruction that seemed to follow in their wake. Too many people. Too many people, and they were stuck, they werestuckand—
A woman screamed as she began to slidebackward, the tips of her shoes dragging along the cement. She stopped a few feet away on wobbly legs, looking around wildly, people running over to make sure she was all right.
“Train,” Nick gasped as they burst through the back of the crowd. “We gotta get to the train. Dad’s gotta be at the station by now.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Jazz asked. “I’m not going in a metal tube with you while you’re on the fritz. If you want to take the chance of getting stuck in one of the tunnels, then go for it. ButI have too much respect for myself to have to wait to be rescued. We’ll walk.”
“That’s twenty blocks!”
“Then we better get moving,” she said grimly.
They did, even as more car alarms began to shriek.
By the time they reached the block the precinct was on, they were worn out and frazzled, Nick’s face covered in red marks after the strings of his hoodie began to slap against his face like they were alive. He’d pulled the string out and thrown it on the ground. It didn’t move again. They stopped in the alcove of a shuttered shop with boards on the windows and graffiti covering the wood in bright colors. Nick bent over, hands on his knees, panting.
“Did you see the guitar explode?” Jazz managed to say, sweat trickling down her cheek. “That poor busker. Who knew such a big man could scream like that?”
Nick grimaced as he stood upright. His body felt weak, and he was more tired than he’d ever been in his life. His thoughts were sluggish as he leaned out of the alcove, looking up and down the sidewalk to see if anything else would happen. Or explode.
Nothing. Just people hurrying by, paying them no mind, the street filled with backed-up traffic, horns honking as construction workers yelled back at them.
“Oh, thank god,” Nick muttered. “I think it’s over.”
“Are you sure?” Jazz asked. “Because that wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for when I brought up the cups.”
Nick groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Stupid cups. Stupid powers.” He laughed hollowly as he looked up the street toward the precinct. “Why would—”
