Conner didn’t like it when Kira got that look. In fact, he didn’t like it when any girl got that look. It normally meant they were about to do something interfering and scary and more-than-slightly embarrassing. Like setting him up with their best friend, because she hadn’t had a date in two years even though she really was a lovely person.

Except he didn’t think Kira had a best friend. In fact, she spent most time with Conner and Ethan. And while Ethan had possibly never had a date (unless you counted taking his laptop to the movies), Conner . . . well, Conner didn’t think even Kira would be that weird.

"So," said Kira, giving him a bright smile. "You and Trent know each other, huh?"

Conner checked the number of tables between him and the door, trying to calculate the chance he’d be able to escape before Kira caught him. "Um . . . I didn’t know you knew I knew Trent." He had to be wrong about that look. She was probably worried Trent didn’t have enough friends or something. Which would be strange coming from Kira—the ultimate loner—but girls were strange.

"He mentioned you the other day."

Trent had mentioned him? "What did he say?" he asked, and instantly regretted it when Kira smirked. "You shouldn’t talk about other people behind their backs," he said, wincing as soon as he finished. How lame could he get?

"He didn’t say much. He’d just seen us hanging around together. Said you sit next to each other in math."

"The teacher made him."

"Well, I understand he wouldn’t have done it voluntarily . . . ” She waited for him to scowl before continuing, "I just thought it was interesting, that’s all."

Girls were weird. Normal people didn’t find things like that interesting. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Did you see that thing in the news the other day?"

And that was connected to him sitting next to Trent how? "Which thing? About us?" He always found it kind of embarrassing, watching himself fight on TV. He imagined people like Dr. O sitting around and criticising his technique.

And then Dr. O would make him watch it so he could criticise Conner’s technique, which didn’t help.

But Kira shook her head. "No. It was about gay marriages." She seemed to watch him very closely.

Conner sighed, trying to work out what on earth she wanted him to say, or why she thought he would be interested in this. "So? I don’t really watch the news. Don’t exactly have time."

"I just wondered what you thought about it, that’s all."

"About gay marriage?"

She nodded, and Conner felt a sudden burst of realization. Of course! Kira was into all that activist, liberal stuff, wasn’t she? Not like any of the real nutjobs, the ones with signs and stuff, but she probably agreed with them. And she wanted to make sure Conner wasn’t homophobic. She’d probably try to get him kicked off the team if he said he was. "I’m not homophobic."

Her eyes narrowed. "You’re not?"

"No . . ." Did she want him to be? She didn’t look very happy.

"I find that the people who deny it most are the ones who secretly are."

Conner judged the distance to the door again. Dr. O had said no using their powers for personal gain, but was this really personal gain? Him going insane trying to work out what Kira wanted wouldn’t help the team at all. "Well, I’m not. I really don’t care."

"You don’t?" She still sounded suspicious.

"No."

She bit her lip, and took a few more sips of her smoothie. Conner gulped down several mouthfuls of his, re-running the conversation in his mind. First a weird conversation about Trent, and then . . . He laughed, and joked, "Is Trent gay?"

"Shh!"

What? Conner sat back, shocked. It had only been a guess! He’d expected her to laugh, or deny it, or something! Not ‘shh’ him! "He is? Seriously?"

"You didn’t know?"

"I was only guessing!"

"Oh, god."

"It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone." Hadn’t he just spent ages saying he didn’t care? But then, that was with far-away, hypothetical gay people, not Trent who sat next to him in math and worked in his favourite hang-out. "What do I say?"

"What?"

"To Trent!"

"Nothing! You can’t say anything!" Kira waved her hands, looking panicked. "I promised him I wouldn’t say anything! Look, you really can’t tell him you know, okay?"

"I won’t."

"And just . . . look, Conner, I know it’s hard for you, but try to be . . . I mean, don’t tell him I didn’t tell you anything, okay? Just act normal. Or, normal for you, anyway."

"Hey!" Hadn’t she heard that people wanting favours were supposed to act nice? "I will. I can act natural. I haven’t let anyone know we’re Power—"

He stopped at her look. "We’re in the middle of a crowded room," she hissed. "Conner, the only reason people haven’t worked it out from you is that no one in their right mind could believe that you are a—you know."

Like saying ‘you know’ was so much more subtle. "I am very good at keeping secrets."

She rolled her eyes. "Just try really, really hard, okay? As hard as you do with the other thing. Harder, even."

He could do that. No problem.

--

Trent’s pencil rolled across the desk towards him. Conner stared at it, wondering what to do. Should he pick it up and hand it to Trent? What if their hands touched? What if Trent said something? What if—

Trent picked up the pencil, not glancing once at Conner, and went back to his work.

Conner took a deep breath, and tried to relax. Act natural, he reminded himself. Don’t let Trent know you know. Just act like normal, like nothing’s wrong.

"Conner?"

He yelped, jumping and banging the desk. His book slid onto the floor, creating enough noise that half the class turned to look at him. Miss Sills looked up from where she’d been helping Jenny, glaring when she saw the source of the noise.

Trying not to turn too red (anything less than ‘tomato’ would be fine), Conner bent down to pick up his book, trying not to look at or think about Trent.

"Sorry," said the other boy, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. "I didn’t want to scare you. I wanted to know if I could borrow your ruler."

Conner handed him the ruler, feeling almost disappointed when Trent’s hand didn’t brush his.

Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Trent was the one who should be hoping for things like that. Not that Conner had been hoping for it, he’d just—

Conner decided to stop thinking about that. Math was so much safer.

It was also boring. And besides, Trent had his ruler. Conner didn’t know what to use the ruler for, but he felt sure it was necessary. And now Trent had it.

Conner glanced at Trent, just quickly, just to see if he was still using the ruler. He was. He waited a few seconds, and then glanced again. Trent was still using the ruler. Conner thought he was, anyway. He’d only looked at Trent’s face, so he couldn’t be sure. It would really have been more sensible to look at Trent’s hands.

He looked at Trent’s hands, and then his face again. He was still using the ruler. He was also concentrating, biting his lip just slightly, a bit like Kira did whenever she tried to write a new song.

Which proved there was nothing wrong with him looking at Trent’s face. He looked at Kira’s face; why should he look at Trent’s face? Iit was all part of body language, wasn’t it? And body language made up, like, 90 of communication.

Maybe 80. Or 70. 90 sounded a bit high.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that there was nothing wrong with him looking at Trent.

He looked again. Trent had very big lips. Bigger than Kira’s. Almost Angelina Jolie-lips, when he pursed them like that. What would it be like to kiss another boy? Trent would probably know. Trent might show him. Not that Conner really wanted to. But it was natural to be curious.

Trent looked up. Conner looked away, and straight at Miss Sills, who stood examining Conner’s desk. "Mr McKnight, were you planning on doing any work today?"

Conner looked down at his book. The page was black, apart from a few dots at the top where he’d been stabbing it with his pencil. "Um . . . yes?" He had been planning to. He’d just gotten . . . distracted.

Miss Sills sniffed. "Well, you can plan to do more in detention. Tonight."

Which meant he’d miss soccer practise again, and probably be late to meet Dr. O for training. Great. "Yes, miss."