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“Hello,” Jazz said.

The voice groaned. “Of course. You idiots can’t do anything on your own. Ofcourseyou’re together.”

“You’re the one who called us,” Nick reminded them. “Also, who calls people anymore? You know how to text, right?”

“I know how to text!” the voice shouted. “I literally just sent you a text!”

“Yikes,” Jazz said. “If you’re a telemarketer, you’re not doing a very good job. You need to be friendlier when you’re trying to sell us something.”

“Oh my god,” Nick breathed. “What if I won a cruise? I wouldn’t go because I read that we haven’t mapped much of the ocean and that means there might be sea monsters that we haven’t discovered yet, butstill.I never win anything.”

A muffled banging sound, as if the person on the other end of the line was hitting something, either with their fist or their head.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Seth said. “Who is this?”

“This is… Armenian… Laundromat.”

“Wow,” Nick said, impressed. “That’s a rad name. I respect your storied culture, whatever it may be.”

Gibby sighed. “Nick, they’re obviously outside and just looking at businesses around them.”

“If you knew what I was risking here,” Armenian Laundromat snapped, “you little shits would be on your kneesthanking me.”

And just like that, Nick knew. No one threw outlittle shitslike the one person he despised almost above all others. His nemesis. The dark to his light. The unfinished fanfiction to his completed work.

“Rebecca Firestone,” Nick snarled at the phone.

The longest pause. Then, “What? Noooo. That’s not who I am. I’m… Lexington… CVS.Dammit.”

“She’s at Lexington and Bennett Ave,” Gibby said. “There’s a CVS right on the corner next to an Armenian deli and that laundromat that went out of business when the owner was arrested for working for the mob.”

Jazz nodded sagely. “Laundering money at a laundromat. Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

“Would youlisten to me? I’m trying to help you!”

“Really,” Seth said flatly. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself. The bridge. The prom. All the news reports. And that doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re working with Simon Burke.”

“That’s not who I am! I’m a concerned citizen who… happened upon information that could—”

“Rebecca Firestone?” Nick asked.

“What?”

“Ha!” he crowed. “Itisyou! Why do you have my phone number, you psycho?” A thought struck him, terrible yet obvious. “You’re trying to get to Owen through me because you still have feelings for him! Forshame,Rebecca Firestone. He’s eighteen. You’re middle-aged! Also, he’s, like, a murderer.” He grimaced. “Unless that’s what you’re into. If so, I’d suggest checking yourself in to a hospital for a mental evaluation. Society’s glamorization of murderers is not only a slap in the face to victims, but also—”

“I amnotmiddle-aged,” she hissed at him. “And I don’t havefeelingsfor anyone!”

“Well, yeah,” Nick said. “You’re a lizard monster incapable of love, so. You know. Tell us something we don’t know.”

“Burke is planning an attack at his Fourth of July celebration,” Rebecca Firestone said. “Patricia Burke is going to pose as Guardian and attempt to assassinate her husband. He’s going to put the blame all on you. Everyone will believe Guardian tried to kill him, and you’ll become the most wanted fugitive in the city. You want to know why you didn’t find Owen at the rally you interrupted? It’s because he wasn’tthere.The man in the hoodie was Patricia Burke.”

It was their turn to be silent.

Then, Gibby said, “Hold, please,” and muted the call with a flick of her finger. She looked up at them. “Code word. Now.”

Right after the attack on the Bell house when Patricia Burke showed her true face, they’d decided each of them needed a codeword to prove they were who they said they were. Nick had come up with all of them for their friends and family, tailored specifically to the individual.

“Princess Amazing,” Jazz said.