Page 1 of Ordinary Secrets

1

TREY

It’seasy for me to screw things up. I’ve done it countless times. From little things like saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment, to big things like not saving my parents from getting blown up. Today is a day I’m determined to get right.

I can do this. I can do this,I chant in my head over and over, as if the more I lie to myself, the more I’ll believe it.

I continue internally chanting as I pull my car up behind a white Honda Civic parked on the side of a busy highway. The car’s hazard lights flash as I idle my car about two truck lengths behind it and pop my door open.

Sand and gravel crunch beneath my shoes as I head toward the Civic. Rumbling car engines whiz past me, blowing my dark hair around. I drag a shaky palm through the longer strands at the top, trying to make it all stay in place, but my attempts are useless. The second a semitruck flies by, my hair is ruined again.I guess the messy look will have to do.

Off in the distance, the burning California sun blurs the air. It’s warm on my skin. It would feel much warmer if my body’s natural equilibrium wasn’t working to cool me down. I’m grateful for this bodily function that all Zordinary humans have,because the last thing I want is to look like a sweating pig the first time I meet this special woman.

As an effort to keep my hands from jittering, I shove them into my jeans pockets and keep crunching the gravel.

Just don’t mess up, I tell myself. Easier said than done.

Things have to go well today, because if they don’t, that’s it.

The end.

My life will be meaningless.

Liz usually smacks my arm whenever I’m being “dramatic,” but it’s true. My success today will be the beginning of making my parents’ deaths count for something. If I can continue andfinishthe work they left behind, I’ll be able to say that I did something they can be proud of. I’ll be able to say that I brought something of value to this world. Whereas right now, I’m just the pitiful son of two Zordinary researchers who hasn’t done anything nearly as impactful as his parents did before they died in a “house fire.”

For years, I’ve lived with that story.

Today, I have a chance to change the ending—and it all starts with getting this special woman to tell me everything about her. To do that, I need to gain her trust. To do that, I need to get close to her. But first, she needs to know that I exist.

Over the last month, I’ve written out tons of plans outlining how I can stumble into her at a grocery store or strike up a conversation with her at a coffee shop. Unfortunately, all of those ideas went straight into the trash.

Now, I’m not gonna say this meeting her on the side of a busy highway idea is any better, but this is the most promising, so I’m hoping this works. Thishasto work.

Then again, a thousand things could go wrong. I could trip and fall and make a fool of myself. She could shoo me off. She could—Oh no.A mess of tight black curls peeks out from the front passenger seat.

She could have a friend with her.Dammit!Of all the things I planned for, not once did I think she’d have company. She’s never had a friend with her on the way home from work before. Why does she now?

Abort! Abort! Abort!my brain shouts. My feet don’t listen. They keep moving. I’ve already reached the trunk of her car, and the women have probably already seen me. I can’t stop now, or I’ll look like a crazy person.

That is how I feel though—crazy.

What makes me think I can pull this off? Or that this will work at all? When I got assigned this mission, I was told my objective is to get close to this woman so I can find out what makes her immune to Zordi powers. Considering she’s an Ordinary and doesn’t know that people with powers exist, she doesn’t even know she’s immune.

So, I’m supposed to ask her lots of questions to learn as much about her as possible. Sounds simple enough, but what if she doesn’t have the answers I’m looking for? And if she does, what if she isn’t willing to share them?

Only one way to find out.

I step up to the passenger-side window with my hands still hiding in my pockets. In the seconds it takes for the glass to roll down, I pathetically forget all the lines I rehearsed this morning.

Maybe my uncle is right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this field-agent thing. Although, thisismy first mission. I could go easier on myself.

Nah. This’ll be my first andlastmission if I fail.I have to do this right.

Bending at the hip, I offer my friendliest of smiles. “Hey. Need some help?”

My attention locks onto the beauty behind the wheel. When her gaze meets mine, my heart drops. Her round coffee-coloredeyes are more captivating in person than they are in the pictures I’ve been studying. I knew she was gorgeous, butdamn!

“Flat tire,” she says, telling me information I already know.

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