My heart lurches in my chest. The fact that Falcon misses me is a good sign. It must be. Somehow I’ve inadvertently implemented the principle absence makes the heart grow fonder. I try to bask in that knowledge for a moment. It’s funny, I imagined it would feel better. Sort of like a victory. Instead, I don’t feel much of anything. I just seem to register what Falcon has said, but I’m lacking the appropriate emotional response.
Falcon nudges me with his shoulder. “What about you?” He looks adorable, all uncertain and slightly bashful. “Have you missed me at all?”
“Sure I have,” I blurt because I have. I totally have. I just haven’t realized it before now because I’ve been so busy with school and work and tutoring. That’s all.
“A lot,” I say emphatically, because my first response doesn’t feel too sincere. I’m trying to fix it, but now I fear I might have gone overboard and sounded too eager, which would be weird, so I hit Falcon’s forearm with my fist and say, “Who wouldn’t miss that ugly mug of yours, eh bro?” The Canadian accent might be overkill.
He stares at me for a moment, but thankfully doesn’t bring up the drugs again, which let’s be honest, wouldn’t be unwarranted after that little display.
“So then we should try harder,” Falcon says, and God bless him, he still seems to mean it.
“Absolutely.” I refuse to say anything else in fear I’ll make this whole conversation even weirder.
“Shake on it?”
I nod as we do just that. “I’ll come home next weekend, and we’ll hang out. Just the two of us. It’ll be like the old days.”
“Sounds good,” Falcon says before he gets up to leave. Just as he’s about to exit my room, he turns around and says, “I really do like the new hair. It suits you.”
The comment distracts me enough that I get to the tutoring session without succumbing to another freak-out, which I count as a win.
Of course then, I trip on one of the hockey player’s ginormous feet while I shakily make my way to the front of the room and land on my face, which concludes with a nosebleed and Law clucking over me like a mother hen. It’s simultaneously irritating and cute how freaked out a person can get about a bloody nose.
“I thought hockey players beat each other up regularly,” I grumble. I’m sitting on the lid of the toilet, and Law is pressing an icepack against my nose. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to man up and tutor through the pain?”
“I would, but we still need you, so I figured I should be nice to you lest you decide it’s too dangerous and never come back.”
“Self-serving wound tending,” I joke, but Law frowns and his expression turns sour.
“You know I was just kidding about that, right?” he asks, looking as if he’s worried I might not have realized.
“Relax, even though all the evidence points to the contrary,” I say as I gesture toward my swollen nose, “I believe a tiny smidgeon of you cares about my physical wellbeing.”
He nods, even though he doesn’t look totally convinced, and he keeps standing close to me, pressing the ice against my nose and trying to wipe the blood off with his other hand. It’s a miracle he hasn’t tied his arms into actual knots.
“Holy crap.” I laugh. “Quit hovering. It’s just a bloody nose.”
It takes five more minutes for Law to declare me all right. I wash my face in the sink as Law calls out the door, “Logan, can you cancel tonight’s tutoring session?”
“Hey! I can keep going,” I protest, but he ignores me, and secretly, I’m relieved.
Logan peeks his head inside as he passes by the bathroom. “They’re already gone,” he says. “Ran out the door like it was the beginning of summer vacation.”
Law looks annoyed as I snicker. “It still counts as a nice gesture, even though there’s no one to witness it,” I assure him.
He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t doing it for them. I was doing it for you.”
My insides go all warm at that. I don’t know what to call this feeling inside me, but I guess cherished is the word that comes closest. It feels too big for our friendship. Logically, I know that, but the feeling remains.
“Come on,” Law says. “We’ll go to my place and relax for the night.”
I squint my eyes at him. “That doesn’t sound like you. Have you been body swapped?”
“Yes,” he says. “Enjoy it while you can. Tomorrow, the selfish version will reappear.”
It sounds like a joke, but his tone is flat as if he finds it hard to convince himself that the statement is meant as one, which is weird. The guy has given his all to help his team pass this class. He found them multiple tutors. He negotiated a deal with me. I saw his tutoring session on Newton’s laws. It was clear as day that Law had learned by heart what I taught him. The whole thing is far from being selfish.
I don’t have time to tell him, though, because he’s already halfway out the door by the time I catch up to him.
It only takes about five minutes to get to Law’s apartment. I settle in on the couch and he prepares a bowl of popcorn for us and places it in my lap.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV while Law is in the kitchen, grabbing us something to drink.
“What do you want to watch?” I ask him as I scroll through the list of channels.
He shrugs. “Don’t care. You choose,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Have you seen Nuclear yet?” I ask because there are a lot of options, and I’m shit at choosing. I’ve already seen the first episode and would like to see the rest, so I figure we might as well go with that. Falcon was supposed to watch it with me but thought it was boring, and I haven’t found a moment to watch it by myself yet.
Law plops down next to me and puts his feet on the low coffee table he has in front of the couch. “Nope. I’ve heard of it, though.” He throws a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Put it on.”
“You sure? It’s kind of depressing.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” he asks with a laugh.
“Not exactly. I really liked the first episode, so I’d like to see the rest, but I don’t know if it’s your thing.”
“You don’t know if nuclear disasters are my thing?” he asks with a smirk.
I press play on the remote. “And your time to pick something yourself just ran out. Enjoy the death and misery.”
I’ve seen the first episode already, but we’ll start from the beginning. It takes no time for me to completely get lost in the episode. It’s a tragic story, and the series is appropriately dark and grim, but it’s so fucking captivating that before I realize it, we’ve already finished the second episode.
“Wow,” Law mutters as he stares at the rolling titles. “Can you imagine volunteering to go search for survivors from a system of shelters underneath the city after a nuclear bomb has been dropped on it? That bomb wiped the place clear. How are they supposed to find the shelters? In the middle of the night. With the threat of another bomb dropping whenever that dickhead of a general decides to give the order.” His head is resting against the back of the couch, but he turns it toward me as he speaks.
“They designed the system, so they knew where the shelters were supposed to be,” I say.
“Yeah, but you just saw it. It was pitch black down there. I can barely orientate when I have to go to the bathroom at night, and the streetlight shines right in the living-room window,” he says.
I chuckle.
“No but seriously, they volunteered,” he says. “Volunteered to walk through a radioactive town. I mean, man, talk about being stupidly brave.”
I shrug. “I guess some things are just worth dying for.”
“Hmm,” he mumbles his agreement. We’re quiet for a little while before Law speaks again. “If it happened in real life, do you think there’d be volunteers? Or are we all so self-absorbed that we’d just shake our heads and say, ‘Nah, let somebody else do it.’ I mean, dying for the greater good is fine in theory, and it’s easy to picture yourself being
the hero from the safety of your own couch, but would any of us really have the guts?”
I stare at the ceiling as I ponder what Law just said. “I think when push comes to shove there would be volunteers for sure. Even if you only have the wimpiest losers out there to do the job, one of them will come through.”
Law smiles at that. “You’re way more optimistic than I am.”
“I’m a realist.” I straighten myself and turn toward Law. “Think about it, though. If you don’t do it, everybody who’s ever mattered to you will die. Your parents, your siblings, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. Maybe people wouldn’t be willing to die for themselves, but a lot of us would do it for our loved ones.”
“You don’t think an average person figures somebody else should take care of that problem?”
“I guess there will always be extraordinary people,” I say.
“I really wish I was one of them.”
“You don’t think you are?”
“I’d like to think I’d do the right thing, but who the hell really knows?”
“I don’t think any of us know before we’re faced with an impossible situation,” I agree.
He grins. “It really sucks that I might never know if I’m a decent person or not.”
I think about that one for a bit. “Do you have to be a hero to be a decent person?” I counter. It’s getting personal, what with all of my revelations about the sidekicky nature of my life. I’m as unheroic as they come, but even then, I’d like to think I can be very much unexceptional and still be a good person.
“I guess not,” he says. “But I think there’s this inherent need within people, where each of us wants to be the hero.”
It mirrors my own thoughts from the day I began this whole Project Hero makeover thing, that led me to this moment.
My mouth seems to open as if it has a will of its own. “I’m the sidekick.”
I’ve heard of alien hand syndrome, but right about now it seems I have a good case for alien mouth syndrome.
Law raises his brows in question. Dear God, I want to keep my mouth shut, but the words are out there, and there’s no stopping me now.
“You know. There’s the cool hero that everybody wants to be like, and then there’s that other guy. That’s me. The sidekick.”
Law frowns and sits up straighter. “What makes you say that?”
“Extensive research and thorough analysis of my character.”
Law chuckles. “Of course. Care to elaborate?”
“I’m the person that makes the hero look better with my mediocrity,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Since when are you mediocre at anything?” Law looks genuinely confused.
“Dude,” I drag out and gesture at myself.
Law squints his eyes at me like that explanation wasn’t enough. “Yes?”
I sigh. “I’m just… I’m not enough, okay? I’ve never been cool enough or tall enough or handsome enough. I’m unremarkable. And I’m not saying it because I feel sorry for myself or something. I’m making an observation.”
“How do you figure that?” Law asks. “That you’re unremarkable. Not good enough.”
I gesticulate with my hands for a while, the words stuck somewhere in my windpipe. “Just… I don’t have the qualities to be the hero. People usually have something. You know, the thing that makes them stand out of the crowd. You know what my thing is?” I don’t let Law answer. That question is more rhetorical in nature anyway. “I don’t have one. You know what they wrote about me in my yearbook? Most likely to be seen with Falcon Asola. That was my most memorable quality.”
A frown creases Law’s expression as he keeps staring at me. It goes on for the longest time before he scratches his head and says, “I can’t believe I get to say this, but I don’t think your logic applies.”
That makes me do a double take. “What do you mean? I have years’ worth of data. You can’t just dismiss my research like that.”
“No. What you have is comparisons. Unfavorable ones, it seems, which means you, my friend, have done something extremely unscientific and cherry-picked your data.”
I gasp. “Are you questioning my methods?”
Law snorts and rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is that if you go by that logic, everybody’s a sidekick.”
“How do you figure that?” I echo Law’s question from before.
“You can always find a person who’s better than you at something.” I want to argue, but Law stops me before I can get the words out. “It works the other way too, you know? When you’re good at something, you can always find somebody whose talents lie elsewhere.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Very diplomatic.”
Law tips an imaginary hat before he continues. “All I’m saying is, don’t compare yourself to others. And I know it’s borderline impossible these days when everybody shoves their supposed accomplishments down your throat via social media. It’s hard to keep a cool head, but most of what you see from everybody else is a façade, isn’t it? We all try to look better than we really are. Human nature, I guess. Don’t let them get to you.”
“It’s easier said than done,” I mutter.
“Unfortunately,” Law agrees.
“The… the makeover thing?” I ask. Shit, this is going to be embarrassing, but I can’t seem to stop myself. The alien mouth syndrome strikes again. “I call it Project Hero in my mind. You know, turn the sidekick into a hero.”
I refuse to look at Law. I should have just kept my mouth shut.
We’re both quiet for a moment before Law starts speaking again. “I don’t know if my opinion counts, but I love spending time with you. My solo gym sessions are super boring now that I know what it feels like when you’re running next to me and cracking me up with your jokes. Or right now”—he gestures toward the TV—“just hanging out has been more fun than I’ve had in forever. You’re smart and dedicated and nice. Not to mention you’re also doing me this huge favor that might very well be the key to getting my career on track. You’re a good person, Andy Carter, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes you a hero in my book.”
My mind goes blank. This might just be the best thing anybody has ever told me. And Law does it so casually. Like it’s obvious. Like that’s how he really sees me. And it’s not as if he just threw around some generic words to appease me. We haven’t known each other for that long, but it’s startling to realize how much Law’s opinion of me matters.
Suddenly, I feel lighter than I have in months. And it’s not because Law said the h-word, even though that was nice to hear. It’s the fact that somebody as awesome and great as Law Anderson sees me—the real me—and likes that person. Somehow it feels more momentous than the fact that my family seems to like me well enough. Then again, they’re stuck with me. Law’s opinion feels more… impartial.
This conversation has given me a lot to think about.
I look at the clock on my phone. It’s already twelve thirty at night. “Wow, it’s getting late,” I mutter.
Law’s eyes twinkle as he says, “Want to watch another one?”
I should really go home. It’s late, and we both have an early morning tomorrow, but my apartment is empty because the guys are out at their birthday party, so no one will care if I’m there or not. I’m not used to being alone.
With six kids, my family’s house was always noisy and if you wanted privacy, you had to bribe somebody by doing their chores for a week to get them to leave the bedroom. Half the time that didn’t even work because you bribe one brother, but your other five siblings don’t give a shit that you promised to rake leaves for Ian to get him to leave your shared bedroom. When I got to college, I shared a dorm with Falcon, and later an apartment. I’m not sure I even know how to be alone. Still, staying here with Law feels like a bad idea.
“What the hell,” I say, completely disregarding my own good sense. “Turn it on.”
Law laughs. “Oh good. I’
ve gotta tell you, I’m kind of relieved I don’t have to lie to you later about not having seen the third episode when I watch it without you after you’ve left.”
I gasp. “You would have watched it without me? That’s, like, treason or something.”
“Hey!” he protests. “Blame the creators of the series. I need to know if the suicidal dudes find any survivors.”
I pretend to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “I thought our friendship was more important to you.”
He lifts his hand and lowers it step by step like he’s mimicking the steps of a ladder. “It goes TV, you and then everything else,” he says.
“Wow. I’m before hockey? I’m impressed.”
“Oh.” He pretends to frown. “I forgot about that. Okay, correction. Hockey, TV, you, everything else.” His grin is so wide and carefree that I forget myself and stare at it for a moment.
I gasp in mock outrage. “The suicidal dudes get stuck in a shelter when another bomb drops,” I say and enjoy my revenge as he sputters.
“Spoilers!” His eyes go comically round. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I’ve got to reconsider the order of importance. You might have just lowered your position to the bottom. Right below pineapple and blue cheese.” Then he squints his eyes at me. “Wait. How do you even know that? Have you seen the next episode?”
I raise my palms as I laugh. “No. I promise you, I haven’t. I’ve only seen the trailer, and they make it pretty obvious that’s what’s going to happen next.”
He stares at me. “Fine, but how can I be sure you won’t spill any other major plot points?”
“I solemnly vow on… hockey,” I say, “that I will not watch Nuclear without you. I’ll even quit watching sneak peeks.”
He snorts. “Does it even count if you don’t like hockey?”
“Yeah, because you like it, and since I like you well enough, I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting your favorite thing with a broken vow.”
He reaches out his arm. “Shake on it.”
We do it. And then we turn on the next episode.
10
Law
Project Hero Page 10
