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expression does not match what he’s supposed to be — a high school jock who hangs with the cheerleaders and only cares about getting a seat at the right lunch table.
    “You sound like a hippie.” I shut my locker and tear myself away from him, walking out the exit and all the way to my car without saying a word. But he catches up. When I unlock the door with the stupid manual key — the remote broke a long time ago — Elias reaches down and pulls the door open. Our fingers brush, and I swear a shock of electricity travels all the way up to my shoulder, fast as lightning.
    I turn to thank him, but when our eyes meet, I can’t get any words out. The sun pours into the parking lot in angled rays. Sunlight glints off the rims of his glasses, and he looks at me, patient. Waiting.
    I want to tell him how I’ve been pretending to be okay but really I’m not at all — can’t everyone see how I’m not okay? — but now that I’m looking at him, really looking at him, I can see my sadness reflected back in his eyes.
    It’s humbling.
    It reminds me that I’m not the only One around. There are hundreds of us, for all I know, on a farm somewhere or going to soccer practice or walking right beside me through the halls of Normal High.
    I can’t be the only One who feels so wrecked because she’s only half of what she’s supposed to be.
    I take a deep breath. “My brothers walk on water. Speed on water, actually.”
    He nods, still listening, waiting for me to say something else. I don’t.
    After a few seconds, he says, “My sisters can teleport.”
    “Whoa. Are you serious?” It occurs to me that I never knew what those girls’ Super was. They were really popular, so I assumed it was something awesome. That power actually involves more than two abilities. Seeing where you’re supposed to go by either clairvoyance or seeing through the walls. Breaking your body into molecules. Sending them where they’re supposed to go. Putting the pieces back again.
    “Yeah.” That look is back in his eyes, the one that’s telling me that he wants me to think he’s doing okay. Nice trick, but I don’t believe it for a second. I know how it feels to have Supersibs when you’re not. It sucks.
    “They’re away right now, actually. Gap year at some top secret program at the Hub, I guess.”
    I feel at this moment like I really truly know him, and I know that he needs to talk to me.
    And somehow, Elias needing me is a bigger threat than if he had grabbed me by the shoulders, held me against a locker, and tried to kiss me.
    “Listen. A couple of my friends are sitting over at one of the picnic tables. Let me introduce you.”
    I stare at him like he just asked me go skydiving or eat worms with him.
    He smiles again. “Just come sit with us.”
    I eye him suspiciously. “You mean, the team?” No way I’m about to hang out with a bunch of jocks who all tower over me. No way in hell.
    I look up, and he’s doing it again, that smile, closed-lipped. Dear God, that dimple. I still haven’t figured out my reaction to most of this, but I do know how that dimple makes me feel. Generous.
    He gestures back toward the school and there’s a cheerleader — an actual, honest-to-God cheerleader in the ridiculous blue and white uniform with the pleated skirt and pristine white sneakers and everything — sitting at one of the concrete tables outside next to a guy in designer jeans and a button-down shirt. The girl waves like she’s on a freaking parade float, and the guy jerks his head upward, acknowledging Elias.
    “Right out there. We’re studying for calc after school — don’t you have Davis, too? — and you should come with us. Tuesday is pizza night. Rosie is great at pizza.”
    Rosie? Who the hell is Rosie? I know what I want to do and what his expression makes me want to say. The girl smiles at me, and when she does, I roll up my sleeve and punch Dad’s number into my cuff.
    “Let me text my Dad,” I grumble.
    He looks