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“Mom saw him. She’s heading there. I have to go. Get to the secret lair. Alert the others. Seth. Miss Conduct. Tell them to get to the precinctnow.”
“The secret what now?” the man behind the counter asked, squinting at him.
Gibby was already shaking her head, looking determined. “We can tell them on the way just as easily. You’re not going by yourself.”
“I can’t be distracted by—”
“I’m not a distraction,” Gibby snapped. “I can handle myself. I don’t need you to be my hero becauseI’malready my goddamn hero. We’re a team, remember?”
“I get that,” Nick said. “I’m not trying to say otherwise. But, Gibby, what if someone sees you? You won’t be…” He glanced at the man behind the counter, who was looking at the both of them like they were the most interesting thing that had happened all day. “… covered, like I am.”
She held up the bandana. “This will work, right? At least for now. You’re not alone, so stop acting like you are. You’re wasting time.” She hurried to the door, stopping only a brief second to look at him and say, “You coming or what?”
“Dude,” Nick said, suitably impressed. “Literal chills. That was almost a catchphrase. We’ll need to work on it, but you’re heading in the right direction.”
She sniffed. “Damn right it was. Butch Fatale, ready to kick ass.”
“What about your water?” the man called after him as Nick followed Gibby.
“Donate it to charity!” Nick bellowed over his shoulder. He paused before he went through the door, looking back at the man behind the counter, who stared at him with wide eyes. “Thank you, citizen. And remember what I always say.” He posed heroically, hands on either side of the doorframe, chest puffed out. “It’s time to take out the—”
The door swung shut, pinching his fingers painfully.
“Ow!” he cried, pulling his hands free and glaring at the door. “Motherfreakingballs.”
The man said, “It’s time to take out the motherfreaking balls? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I hate everything,” Nick mumbled, pushing the door open again and rushing out of the bodega.
