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Somewhere. He couldn’t remember. To Dad? To Mom? That… sounded right. He’d found them, confronted them, and they’d told him the truth. The pills. Simon Burke. Crushing him,suppressinghim. It’d been a whole thing, anger and tears and accusations flung like grenades. But they’d moved beyond it. Mom had made sure of it.

Right?

“Nick?”

He blinked, the sounds and smells of the city crashing back into him. Gibby stood in front of him, frowning.

“You all right?” she asked, touching the back of his hand, concerned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… I don’t know. Tired from training, I guess. What were you saying?”

She watched him a long moment before nodding and turning back around and moving down the sidewalk.

“I got word last night on this message board I follow,” Gibby said as he caught up with her. “There’s going to be a protest at your dad’s old precinct. Figured you’d want to come along and see why it’s so important.”

“Oh.”

“You good with that? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think it’s important for you to see—”

“You sure it’s okay for me to be there?” Nick asked nervously. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

She rolled her eyes. “Letting notoriety go to your head already? I knew you’d turn into a diva. So disappointing.”

“No, it’s not—that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then say what you mean, Nick. I can’t read your mind.”

“My dad worked there. He was…” He swallowed thickly. “He was part of the problem. Yeah, he’s trying to make amends, but that doesn’t mean it’s all forgiven. I don’t want that to try and take away from what’s important if someone recognizes me. Put the focus on where it should be.”

She blinked in surprise. “Wow, that’s… really mature of you, Nick. Respect.” She held out her fist, and he bumped it gladly. “But I thinkifsomeone recognized you because of your dad, they would see that you’re trying to… well, not accept responsibility for what he did, because that’s not your job. They would hopefully see that you understand how harmful his actions were, and that you’re trying to learn all you can about what we mean when we say Black lives matter. And it’s notabout being Guardian or anything like that. I want you there as Nick, because we don’t need a hero to save us, not in the way you’re probably thinking. We need you tolistenwhen we tell you what’s happening because of police brutality.”

“Then hell yes, I’ll go with you,” Nick said immediately.

“Really?” Gibby asked, and Nick’s heart hurt a little with how relieved she sounded, as if she’d thought he’d try to weasel out of it. “That means a lot to me.”

“You’re one of my best friends. You’ve been there for me time and time again. Of course I’d do the same for you. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “I know, but it helps to hear it every now and then. This isn’t as sexy as being an Extraordinary, but—”

“It’s just as important,” Nick finished for her. “I’ll follow your lead. If I seem to be getting in the way for any reason, call me out for it, yeah? I promise I’ll do my best to listen.” He looked around, recognizing where they were. The precinct was still at least fifteen blocks away. “Why didn’t we just take the train?”

“We’re queer. We walk fast because of our survival instinct.”

He snorted. “Okay, that was funny in a really sad way. I feel bad for the heteros. They wanted us to run from them, and so we did, and now we evolved to be much quicker than they are. They really don’t get anything aside from having all the rights they could ever ask for.”

“The white people, anyway,” Gibby said. “Thought about the train, but I figured if anyone tried anything, it’s better to be out in the open than trapped in a metal tube underground. We’re not supposed to meet until noon, so we have plenty of time to get there.”

“You mean Owen,” Nick said, shuddering at the remnants of a dream he couldn’t quite remember. Shadows. All those shadows. He looked up, almost expecting to see the familiar figure of Shadow Star descending toward them. Nothing, just buildings reaching toward a deep blue sky.

“Yeah,” Gibby said grimly. “I wouldn’t put it past him to dosomething like that. Assholes are always going to asshole. Come on, in here. I want to get some water bottles to take with us.” She pushed open a door without looking to see if he’d follow.

He stepped into the bodega after her, the man behind the counter nodding at them from behind a sheet of thick plexiglass before going back to his book. Behind him, an old television sat on a shelf, blaring a commercial that was either for mattresses or depression medication. He followed Gibby past rows of colorful packaging in various languages, including Skwinkles Salsagheti, to the back corner of the bodega. A large calico cat sat on top of one of the drink coolers, tail swishing as it watched them with bright green eyes.

“We should use bodegas more for secret meetings,” Nick said. “It’s very cloak-and-dagger. We could have code names. I’ll be Mr. X. You can be Butch Fatale. Get it? Because instead of Femme Fatale, you’re—”

She laughed. “Butch Fatale. I call dibs in case I suddenly get powers and need an Extraordinary name.”

“Oh man,” Nick said. “I’m already imagining your costume. Like, the entire thing is made of wallet chains.” He frowned. “Wait. That’s probably not the look you’d want to go with. You wouldn’t be able to go through metal detectors. And if someone had magnet powers, you’d lose pretty quickly.”