***JASON***

It's been a rough week for just about everyone at school, mostly because of all the exams. Not to mention the tension between warlocks and Normals, which is at an all-time high now. That's actually easier to achieve than it sounds, because there's never been any such tension between us. Not in living memory for the current high-school generation, anyway. No Avatar: The Last Airbender wars to speak of. "Long ago, the four powers lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when Elena Montoya attacked."

That, however, is why we're attending a rally in San Jose. The Four Powers Rally, it's called, although there's also considerable Normal representation in the crowd. Adele's just one of those Normals, along with her and Evan's parents. Allies to our cause.

Today, Michelle and Morgan have even less of us to drive around. Kevin goes with Evan and Adele and their parents, while Jeremy comes with me and dad. Even Mom was convinced to join us, although she's mostly there for the food, I think. Otherwise, the fact that Marten's attending the event would have almost made her not want to come. But Dad won her over in the end. "Bonnie, this is very important to Jay and his friends," I overheard him say to her a couple of nights ago before dinner. "They could do with your support too."

"Patrick-"

"Please. Jay needs this. And you could do with getting out of the house once in a while. There's a reason why the boys call us 'shut-ins' all the time."

I resisted the urge to laugh - not only because he was right about the "shut-in" thing, but because I wasn't even sure I wanted Mom to come along.

As expected, when we get down to the rally, Mom makes tracks for the food carts right away. This is actually pretty out of character for her - the last time we were at a big open-air event like this, the Spellman Food and Wine Festival, she made such an effort to avoid all the food, and told the rest of us to do the same. "Too overpriced," she'd said. True, but one could say the same thing about the artisanal orange vinaigrette she was specifically hunting for that day.

Dad mostly hangs back with her, while I take Jeremy with me to find our friends. Nobody from his school is here, I don't think - his sixth-grade class is oddly warlock-deficient, despite our neighborhood being largely populated with Dark families like ours. So it's mostly my friends, technically speaking, but Jeremy's just as much a part of our circle as I am now.

Evan, Adele, and Kevin are the only other ones who've shown up when Jeremy and I reach our prearranged meeting point - a small tent stamped with Drake's logo and name. Inside, his sales reps are shilling a number of prototype techie-toys designed to work with warlocks' powers. Although we're not 100% sure Elena's been able to rebuild her own inventions, I've heard tell from Dad that Drake doesn't want to take any chances. He won't allow her to win the next leg of this shadow-war arms race, that's for sure.

"Have you guys seen this?" Kevin asks, picking up a Swiss Army-type knife from the nearest display table. "No, probably not, you just got here. But still...check it out!" He clumsily unfolds one blade from the side of the knife - between his excitement and his thick fingers, it's a wonder he can make the blade budge at all. Then he grips the knife tightly in one hand before releasing Ice power into it, freezing it rock-solid. Finally, he throws the knife - I guess it's now heavy enough that he can do that - into a target hanging on the other side of the tent. It's not a bulls-eye, but he gets pretty close.

"Whoa," Jeremy says.

"Can you do that with other powers too?" I ask.

Kevin picks up a second knife from the table and hands it to me. "See for yourself," he says.

I notice that the knife feels a little heavier than the one Dad keeps in the glove compartment in his car. "What's it made of?" I ask the guy standing behind the table - one I recognize from the security office at the Ice palace. Collins, I think his name was. A Mr. Finch look-alike. He used to work for Elena and Severide, last I remembered, but I guess now Severide's decided to pool resources with Drake. Smart thinking, if so.

"The usual blend of proprietary materials," Collins says. "But I can tell you one thing - there's a few nuggets of lead in the core so it weighs more."

I raise my eyebrows. "Lead? Was this really a good idea?"

"It's totally safe, I assure you."

I shrug, then line the knife with my power. Ice first, then I allow Dark energy to swirl into the handle, wrapping around the heavy silvery-blue layer. I throw the knife, flicking it just enough to make it spin the way Kevin's did, and land it in the target right next to the first knife.

"My turn?" Jeremy asks.

Collins shakes his head, laughing, as he goes back to retrieve the knives before cleaning them. "Sorry, but you need your parents' permission if you're under thirteen."

Jeremy pouts and crosses his arms. "I'm fourteen," he says. "I'm just really small for my age."

"It's true." I ruffle his hair - noticing, as I do so, that he's actually a little taller than I remember. We're probably only about ten inches apart now, I think, instead of a whole foot. "It runs in our family, I'm afraid. We Darks grow slowly."

"I'm Dark too," the guy says in an extra-reedy, extra-sardonic tone, "so don't bullshit me."

Jeremy rolls his eyes, then takes out his phone. "All right," he says. "I'll get Dad's permission."

"Needs to be done in person," says Collins.

"Then I'll just ask him to come over here."

"And sign the permission form in triplicate?"

Jeremy's thumb hovers over the call button, but then he stops and puts the phone away. "Dammit, are you really gonna bureaucratize me? I'm just a kid!"

"I got an idea," Adele says. "I'll throw the knife, but you'll power it up. How's that?"

"You need your parents'-"

Adele holds up one hand to Collins. "I'm fourteen," she says. "See, I can prove it!" She opens the little money bag she keeps around her neck and pulls out her school ID.

"Eighth grade, huh?" Collins sighs, defeated. "Fine. You've loopholed me. Go ahead...Adele," he says, reading her name off the card.

"No relation," Adele says. "And thanks." She tucks her red hair behind her ears as she picks up one of the knives, then holds the handle while Jeremy coats the blade in his power. Then, she bends her knees so she can be closer to his level and has him put her hand on hers while she throws the knife. Somehow, don't ask me how, it works, and together, they throw the knife at the target. I think it embeds itself in the same spot where I hit the target before, or maybe just a few millimeters above that.

Evan claps for them along with the rest of us, and while she reaches for the second knife, Kevin leans over to me and whispers, "Get ready for a future of Cross-Michaelsen double dates."

I tilt my head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well, if you and Evan are any indication..." Kevin looks up as Evan lines her knife with crackling Light on top of Ice. "Adele and Jeremy might be just as good together. So, no, it's not a bad thing."

"That's what I thought."

Evan lines up her shot, then throws the knife. She comes the closest to the bulls-eye of any of us, but her knife's impact has an unexpected effect. As soon as the blade sticks in the target, the Light arcs off that point in long purplish-white bolts.

She looks a little freaked by the sight, but doesn't jump back the way everyone else does.

"Okay, I change my mind," Kevin whispers in an even lower tone - so low, it's a wonder anyone can hear him without one of those flesh-tone throat mikes they always use in the Sigma Force movies. "Adele and Jeremy wouldn't be so bad together. But Evan? She's starting to scare me."

"That's...that's part of why I love her," I say. But he's right. I don't like it when people keep pointing it out, of course, but in my head, I agree that Evan with extra power is very hard to get used to. Hard, but not impossible.

"Whoa." Harris walks into the tent with Michelle right behind him. "Can we try these? Please? Pretty please?"

"Are you guys over thirteen?" Collins asks. Must be down in his contract or something.

"Duh," Michelle says. "Come on, let's play!"

"These are good with Fire, right?" Harris asks.

"They're good with all four powers," says Collins.

"Awesome." Harris and Michelle each take a knife as soon as they're ready, and throw them almost simultaneously. To my surprise, as well as everyone else's, Harris gets a bulls-eye, but Michelle is off. Way, way off.

Taking a look at this result, Michelle just shrugs. "I'm better with a bow and arrow anyway," she says. "Besides, these knives are too small for throwing."

"They're small, yes, but very deadly." Marten himself walks in, still as pale and drawn and dark-suited as ever, with his latest ex-wife - Elise, I believe her name was, but for whatever reason, I could never be arsed to memorize it - and Morgan in tow. "You kids are just using them for one purpose. I, however, had something else in mind."

"Of course you did," Morgan stage-whispers.

Marten hands the knife to Morgan and asks, "Would you care to show them? I think it works best with Fire."

Morgan stares blankly at his dad, and then Elise clears her throat and says, "I'll do it."

"Please do," Morgan says. "I'd rather use my own hands as weapons anyway."

"As you wish." Elise takes the knife, lights it on fire, and grips it in a very tightly-clenched fist. Then she steps up to the target and jabs it right in the center before pressing a button and unleashing a glowing liquid. "The lead nuggets can melt under Fire," she says, "and from there, we can inject enemies with them." All of us kids back away from her in response to this statement, and all she says is, "What?"

"You're being creepy again," Morgan says. "Come on, guys, let's get outta here. I hear Sara Bareilles is gonna perform on the main stage in half an hour or so - you got tickets for that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," I say, showing him my ticket, as does everyone else - everyone under the age of eighteen, that is. We leave the tent and head down the street, making our way to the main stage in front of the convention center. There's some kind of sound check going on, but the seats are filling up fast, so we present our tickets and get a huge cluster of seats all to ourselves. Then, just like at the movies, we take turns grabbing snacks. The food selection is way more varied and interesting than even the movie theater can give us - on Michelle's recommendation, we all get the same parmesan-flavored chili dogs.

"So. Good," I say ecstatically after my first bite.

"I can tell just from the smell." We turn around to see a black dude approaching. It's Sam Beane, a former fellow inmate of Evan's at Gallagher House. (Why did I say "inmate?" But then, Evan's stories of the place made it sound like the most padded prison in the history of padded prisons.)

Evan hugs him hello, as does Michelle and even Morgan. "Nice outfit," Morgan says in a semi-teasing way. "You kinda look like Loki and Aquaman had a baby."

Sam taps the bottom of his stylized scepter - curved, like Loki's, but with a white gem instead of a blue one at its tip - against the ground. Then he stretches his shiny silver pants, which, along with his tight shirt, look like they've got Ice infused into the fabric. "The only problem is," he says, "it tends to ride up in the crotch a bit."

"Like all the best superhero outfits, am I right?" I joke.

"Yeah," Sam says. "Like Spider-Man's. He's still your favorite, right? Or did I remember that wrong?"

"No, you didn't."

Kevin looks around for a moment, shielding his eyes. "Hey, where's your sister?"

"Vicky's stuck with a stupid group project," Sam says. "I offered to take her with me, but Mom insisted she stay home and work. Me, though, I kinda have to be here."

"What for?" asks Morgan.

"I'm covering this for the school paper," Sam says. "Speaking of which, I should still be taking some more pictures...but save a seat for me, guys, all right?"

"Sure," Evan says. "Nice seeing you again!" she calls after Sam as he heads off to continue taking pictures. The last thing we see him do before he passes the ticket stand on his way out is to take a selfie with the stage - and us - in the background.

"Isn't Sara Bareilles that lady who sings the love song Jay likes so much?" Jeremy asks.

"Yeah, that's right," I say. "The 'Love Song,' which isn't actually a love song. Sorry to disappoint you."

"Just be prepared in case she cusses onstage," Adele warns him. "She's been known to do that."

"Trust me," I say, "Jeremy can handle the language."

"I can," Jeremy says. He stands up to his full height, puffing out his chest. "I'm a big boy."

"But that doesn't mean you're not still adorable, Damian Wayne," Harris laughs.

Jeremy glowers at him and jabs his finger into his chest. "Do you want me to kick your ass?" he asks.

"He really would," I say. "He really looks up to the Gotham City Ghost version of Damian. 'Supreme Overlord Lil' Ass-Kicker,' he calls himself."

"Didn't he also show up in the second part of that little crossover comic?" asks Harris.

Evan covers her mouth as she laughs. "Did Harris get you to read those comics too?"

"Actually, it was Morgan," I say.

"Hard to believe you hated him at first," Michelle laughs.

I blush. "What are you talking about?"

"Dude, when we first met, you were getting all defensive about Evan," Morgan reminds me. "Like I was gonna steal her."

"Hell no," Evan says. "You steal things, not people."

"Yeah," Jeremy says. "When it's people, they call it kidnapping."

I slump in my seat, almost spilling the latte macchiato I'm holding in my hand. Unfortunately, these seats don't come with movie-theater-style cupholders, so we have to handle our drinks the old-fashioned way. "One little lapse of character for me and you'll never let me live it down," I say, shaking my head. "I swear to God-"

"I thought you didn't believe in God anymore," Jeremy says.

Reflexively, I reach for my neck, where I used to wear a crucifix on a gold chain. I haven't worn it since Rachel died. "That's not true," I say. "I believe God exists, and he knows he's lost me as a worshipper."

"Don't let Mom hear the lowercase letters in there," Jeremy laughs.

I scoff at him and turn my eyes to the stage as Sara B. herself makes her way up. "Trust me," I say, "if God cared, he'd have struck me down ages ago." I lean back and look around, seeing everyone else look at me with worry. "What?" I ask, feeling like Elise all of a sudden. "Come on, guys, don't start an intervention on me. Not at a concert!"

"We're not gonna intervention you," Harris says. "It's just...I mean, we know you've got balls, but-"

"But what? Not those kinds of big brass ones?"

"Cool your jets," Morgan says. "The show's starting soon!" He looks over to the ticket stand. "Hey, you think Sam's coming back before she starts?"

"I hope so." Evan sighs through her nose. "Hey, what do you think she's gonna start the show with?"

We all exchange glances before saying, with near-perfect, near-simultaneous near-precision, "'Love Song.'"

"I'm only saying that 'cause it's the only Sara Bareilles song I know," Jeremy says.

"What about 'Brave?'" I point out. "That's another major fave of mine. Oh, and 'Morningside,' and 'Uncharted,' and-"

"Yeah, now I get it," Jeremy says. "Sorry I'm not as big on this girl as you are, Jay."

"She's pretty and talented," I say. "Everything I like in a woman." Evan does an "oh, stop it" gesture at me. "And besides, little bro, you like Katy Perry, so your opinion is invalid." Everyone else boos me - at least, so I think. Turns out, it's not my friends, but rather a group of picketers parading around the edges of the concert zone with the sort of signs favored by conservative people who attend hate-mongering churches in Kentucky or Kansas or some other flyover-country state. No offense to the good, law-abiding, non-hateful citizens of those states, of course. It's just that in this case, there's a very vocal minority ruining it for everyone.

Others in the audience boo right back at these assbutt haters. Some of them even throw power at them, and Evan perks up briefly, looking like she wants to join in. "Don't do it, Snowflake," I say. I steady her hand, then add, "They're not worth it."

"You're the one who wrote your vampire boy interrupting a bunch of hecklers," she points out.

"Hey, Spencer's a better, cooler, ballsier version of me," I say.

"Who's this Spencer person?" Harris asks.

"Yeah, is he like Spencer from iCarly?" Morgan asks.

I tug at the neck of my shirt. "Maybe a little, yeah." I take a sip of my drink, then add, "And why not? Spencer Shay's a cool dude."

"Yeah, he's the reason why you haven't had a proper haircut in two years," Jeremy says.

"But I look cool anyway, I think." I rub my head, intensifying my ongoing bird's nest effect.

Applause breaks out as Sara B. comes up to the piano and starts playing the unmistakable opening chords of - yep, "Love Song." I turn around just long enough to see the police wrangling the protesters away from the area. Yeah, that's right, disturb the peace somewhere else, shitheads! Like you could appreciate real art anyway.

I've never seen Sara Bareilles - or any other musician, for that matter - perform live. I've only heard CDs, or seen videos on YouTube and VH1 Classic. But for my first live music ever, I don't think I could have picked a better one. Especially when, as I hope she does, she comes up to the end of the second refrain. While everyone in the audience continues to sing along to the next verse ("Promise me..."), she leans back down to her mike and says, "This part wasn't on the radio..." We continue to sing anyway ("You'll leave the light on..."), and as I expect, she throws in her sweetly saucy take-that at The Powers That Be: "Fuckers!"

It's cool, it's epic, it's all the words in the Fawesomeness Dictionary...

...until it's not.

The protesters are still within earshot and eyeshot of the stage - and, apparently, within sniper-shot from some high-up balcony somewhere nearby. I hear two shots echo from the south, and the protesters scream as two of their number hit the ground, bleeding from holes in their foreheads.

How do I know it's a sniper, you might ask? I watch too much TV and movies, that's why.

"Come on!" Sam cries. He signals us to follow him as he makes his way towards the stage. Thankfully, the crowd's all heading that way, instead of trying to go back towards the ticket stand. That would cause a bottleneck, and then a stampede, and everyone crushing everyone else, and then the sniper wouldn't even need to kill anyone else.

Watching Sara's bodyguards rush onto the stage and hustle her into the crowd, I scoop Jeremy out of his seat and get him on his feet so we can run together with everyone else. When another shot is heard, we haul even more ass, desperate to vacate the scene ASAP. Preferably safe and sound with all our parents, wherever the bloody hell they are.

Hopefully somewhere far from this place.