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5

The first thing he did when he got home was lean against the door and run a hand through his wet hair.

The second thing he did was laugh hysterically.

The third thing he did was run up the stairs to his room and hug the pillow with Shadow Star’s face on it.

The fourth thing he did was pull out the autograph.

It read,

Nicholas Bell,

Always remember to keep to the shadows!

Shadow Star

The fifth thing he did was lie back on his bed, a smile on his face.

The sixth thing he did was sit back up and dig through his bag furiously until he found his phone.

There it was, saved in his photo album next to at least thirty pics he’d taken in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to track if he was gaining any muscles in his arms from the few times he’d tried to lift weights (five-pound barbells didnothing).

Shadow Star glowered at the camera as he stood next to Nick, who looked as if his smile was trying to eat his face. Or at least Nick thought he was glowering since it’d be what he did, but he couldn’t be sure. Shadow Star’s face was almost completely covered by his mask, with only his mouth visible.

Nick stared at it for a good thirty-six minutes. The picture, not Shadow Star’s mouth. Mostly.

Then he clutched the phone to his chest and sighed happily. He had to tell everyone.

Except he couldn’t tell everyone.

Right? He couldn’t, because it would get back to Dad that he’d been in an alley after leaving school late. And he was only at school late because he’d gotten detention. On thefirst day. And he promised his father he’d do better. That and the fact that he’d almost been stabbed in the face with a knife, and Dad probably wouldn’t let him do anything by himself ever again, much like he hadn’t let Nick go into a bank by himself since—

Well. Since his mom had entered a bank a few months after their trip to the lighthouse. Four minutes after she’d passed through the doors, three men wearing armor and carrying guns followed.

Six people died that day. A security guard. Two of the gunmen. An elderly man named Bill who came in at least three times a week to make a deposit, but usually used it as an excuse to chat up the pretty bank tellers. A woman named Ella who was meeting with her broker.

And Jenny Bell.

Nick looked at the picture on his desk.

She was there like she always was, her head on his shoulder. “I met him,” he said quietly. “Mom, I met him.”

She was smiling.

But she was gone. Nick knew that. She wasn’t real, not anymore. And he needed to tell someone, right? A person couldn’t go through a life-changing event of monumental proportions andnottell someone.

That was why best friends existed. For moments exactly like this.

He called Seth.

“You’ve reached Seth’s voicemail. I’m probably busy. And nobody calls anyone anymore unless it’s an emergency. Send a text. Unless it’s an emergency.”

“Thisisan emergency,” Nick hissed after the beep. “What could you possibly be doing right now that you can’t pick up the phone when I call to tell you something that will forever alter the course of my history? Seth! I demand you call me back immediately! Theonly way I’ll forgive you is if you’re taking a nap because you were so tired earlier today. Also, I hope you’re having a good afternoon and that you didn’t get rained on too much because I know you get sick easily, and I don’t like it when you’re sick. This is Nick. Bye.”

He thought about calling Jazz, but she was probably still shaking her groove thang, or whatever it was that cheerleaders did.

He didn’t need to call Gibby, because she’d been there. And also because she’d told him before they parted that he wasnotallowed to call her about this tonight because she didn’t want to hear him gushing about Shadow Star for the billionth time.