Extraits

À mon avis, c'est le nom que vous ont donné les humains parce qu'ils avaient peur de vos pouvoirs, murmura Nick. Oui, on en revient toujours à ça, à la peur...

“Don’t you slow down!” the coach shouted. One of the boys had turned up late, and now the whole football team was suffering for it. From the fence line, Joan watched them stumble past in yet another lap. Most of the boys were gasping, but at the front of the pack, Nick’s pace was steady, as if he could have kept this up for days.

Go home, Joan told herself. She’d been weak today. She’d walked down here after school, hoping for a glimpse of him. Well, now she’d had it, and as always it felt like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t know you anymore.

“All right!” the coach shouted. “I think you’ve had enough.”

There were groans of relief, and the boys staggered to a stop. Some dropped to the ground, exhausted. Others grasped their knees, trying to catch their breath. Still a few strides ahead, Nick slowed to a jog, and then turned to walk back to his teammates.

He glanced idly towards the fence. Joan’s heart stuttered as his gaze skated over and beyond her without interest or recognition.

“Nick!” one of the boys panted from the ground. “You gotta keep up, mate. Team captain can’t be trailing behind us all the time.”

Nick laughed and went over to help the boy up. “Need a hand, Jameson?”

“I need a defibrillator,” the boy grumbled. But he gripped Nick’s offered hand and struggled up.

Joan’s breath caught at Nick’s unguarded smile. He’d always been so solemn when she’d known him. He’d had the world on his shoulders. It occurred to Joan now that she didn’t know him anymore either—not this Nick.

She felt that familiar pang of longing for the boy who wasn’t here. She suppressed it ruthlessly. That Nick was gone, and she shouldn’t want him back. This was Nick as he should have been. A guy with an ordinary life.

"Not every fight needs a hero. Sometimes you need a monster."