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Turn around,the voice whispered.Look at her. Listen to her. She’s your mother. She loves you. She wants to protect you. She’s right. You know she is.
Nick started to turn, muscles stretching under flesh. But before he could look at her, he caught a glimpse of Seth through the glass of the door. He stood out on the sidewalk, looking down at his phone. The door solidified once more, and Nick felt sensation returning to his legs, as if they’d been frozen and were now free.
He said, “Why don’t you have a job?”
The fingernails on the back of his neck stalled momentarily. “I wanted to stay home with you. Raise you. We’ve talked about this, Nicky. Are you sure you’re all right? You sound confused.”
He was. He wasn’t. Fighting against the wave of calm washing over him, he said, “It won’t be forever. I’m not going to be a kid for much longer. Pretty soon, I’ll be gone and you’ll have to decide what you want to do.” He stepped away from her. He did not look back as his fingers circled the doorknob.
“Nick,” she said, voice sharper. “I said I want you to stay home today.”
Step away from the door. Turn around. Look at her. See her. Love her.
But Seth was there, Seth wasright thereon the other side of the door, and he couldn’t keep him waiting, couldn’t let him think Nick wasn’t coming.
“Can’t do that,” he said, gripping the doorknob as if it was the only thing keeping him from doing what she asked. “Told you. Made plans. I’ll be back later.”
With that, he opened the door and moved quickly through it, slamming it behind him and hurrying down the walkway toward Seth.
“Hey,” Seth said, grinning at him. It faded when he saw the look on Nick’s face. “All right?”
“Yeah,” Nick muttered. “Let’s get out of here. Mom’s acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Seth asked, looking over Nick’s shoulder at the house. “What’d she do?”
He couldn’t explain it, but now that he was out of the house, if felt like he could breathe, like a weight had been taken off his chest. “She’s…” He shook his head. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter. Let’s go. Don’t want to be late.”
And though the blinds were still shut when he looked back at the house one last time, he could feel her gaze boring into him.
The park was crowded, hundreds of people walking along the tree-lined paths or sitting on blankets and chairs in the grass, kids jumping and playing in the fountains that sprayed up from nozzles embedded into the ground. A group of people were doing yoga on a small field, backs arched, chins raised, hands firmly planted on brightly colored mats. A bigger group surrounded two men and a woman, clapping along as they beat the tops of trash cans and buckets with drumsticks, the sound bright and happy.
The sun was shining, not quite as hot as it’d been even the day before, fat, lazy clouds moving slowly across the sky. It was a perfect summer day.
Jazz and Gibby had staked a prime spot under a tall, leafy tree, blanket spread out underneath, dappled with shadows and sunlight filtering in through the thick branches. Jazz saw them first, waving her hand in greeting, Gibby’s head in her lap. A large wicker basket sat in the grass next to the blanket, along with a cooler filled with ice and glass bottles.
Gibby lifted her head and nodded in greeting before settling back down on Jazz’s lap. She had a yellow dandelion placed in the fold above her ear, the petals bent against her face.
“Hey,” Jazz said as Nick collapsed dramatically on the blanket, Seth snorting above him. “You’re right on time for once. Congratulations.”
Nick lifted his arms as Seth removed his backpack for him, setting it off to the side. “I show up exactly when I’m meant to,” Nick said. “And not a moment sooner.”
“Sure,” Gibby said as Seth sat down next to Nick, kicking off his shoes and curling his bare toes in the grass. “Let’s go with that.”
“Now that we’re all here,” Jazz said, touching the flower in Gibby’s ear, “there are some rules that we are going to abide by.”
Nick sighed, watching Seth smile at the grass between his toes. “I thought we were taking the day off from everything.”
“Exactly,” Jazz said primly. “Which is why my rules are this: No talking about Extraordinaries. No talking about people with the last name Burke. No powers, no villains, none of it. Today, we’re going to have a picnic and the topics of discussion will be as follows: summer break, senior year, college applications, and how we’re going to decorate our dorm rooms. Anything that’s related will be acceptable, but that’s it. If any of you try and break these rules, I’ll stab you with one of the plastic forks I brought for the fruit salad. And before you say I’m threatening you, let me assure you: I am, and I’m very serious about it. Deal?”
“Deal,” they all said, because Jazz was terrifying and awesome in equal measure.
“Good,” Jazz said. She nodded at the basket and cooler. “Take whatever you want but leave the chicken-salad sandwich. That’s Gibby’s and I made it with love by ordering it and having someone else make it.”
“Thanks, babe,” Gibby said, closing her eyes and stretching out her legs.
Nick—always and forever Nick—immediately dug through the basket. Wrapped sandwiches from that deli he loved—they always putwaytoo much meat on them—and plastic containers of fruit salad and potato salad, and individual bags of chips and cookies. “You went all out,” he said. “I approve.”
“Of course I did,” Jazz said. “No point in having a picnic if you’re not going to do it right.”
