Nicholas was up extra early the following morning, in plentyof time to get ready, pack his lunch, and make it to school in time to visit the music lounge and work on a new kick beat he'd been developing. He planned to reveal the song in its completed form at the end of the year dance. That would be sure to make him friends because who didn't like someone who could write deathly-loud heavy metal, right?

What he didn't plan for was his parent's sudden emergency trip to the hospital for what he suspected would turn out to be braxton hicks, leaving him alone with twenty minutes until the first bell and a six-year-old late for kindergarten in tow.

"Come on, Nino!" Nicholas huffed, exasperated as he stared down at the miserable bundled form of his brother, complete with two jeans and three t-shirts plus a jacket three times his size, deciding he looked more like a lemon marshmallow than a human. "I'm going to be late for class and then Ms. Mendeleiev will actually skin me alive!"

"Can't," Nino sniffled, tugging fruitlessly at his coat's zipper as it refused to go up. "Stuck."

"You can unstick it on the way!" Nicholas moaned, already pacing the hall back and forth toward the door. "I have to get you to school so I can go too!"

"Is cold," Nino protested, giving one final jerk and then giving up entirely with a growl of frustration.

Nicholas felt that emotion deeply. "I know," he said practically through gritted teeth as he tried to herd the boy toward the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulders as he did. "It's cold. I'm cold. You're cold. Everyone is cold. You know why that is? Because it's winter. Everything is going to be cold. You know what else we are going to be? Expelled. And then you'll never see your friend again. Mari-whatzit?"

"Marinette," Nino whispered, hurrying to keep up with the older boy as Nicholas finally gave up and drug himself to the front door with a groan and a mutter of, "Tardy. Again."

"Yes, yes, her," Nicholas grunted, waving off his brother's indignation. "Backpack?" he added, pointing to the stairs where Nino's bright orange bag was waiting.

"Got it!" Nino announced, pulling it on and bolting out the door before the teen could find something else to gripe about. Cheeky squirt, Nicholas thought, following suit and closing the door behind them. The winter wind lashed at his exposed face and he sighed out a plume of condensed smoke, tugging his definitely-not-thick-enough coat around his neck and burying his headphones into the rim of his hood. Be very grateful that I love you as much as I do, Akhi, because between you and I, I really don't like this. I should be at school right now, practicing to sway the class and getting girls to swoon over me, not trudging along through three feet of snow to take my little brother to school.

In his defense, Nino had broken him. One look into those brown puppy eyes and he'd been toast. Nino knew it and took the opportunity every chance he got.

"Carry!" Nino demanded, already reaching for his brother's arms, sniffing pitifully and shivering.

Nicholas deadpanned at the act. "Nino, you're six."

"Don't care!"

"You have legs. You know how to walk."

"But not as fun!"

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever." Nicholas crouched down, allowing him to clamber onto his shoulders. "We're already late, right? What's another ten minutes when I die of heat exhaustion from carrying you all the way to school?"

"You said it was cold," Nino pointed out snarkily.

"You don't ever listen to anything I say," Nicholas sighed, shifting his backpack underneath his brother's weight. "I didn't figure you'd start now."

"I always listen," Nino protested.

"Ha!"

His brother giggled and buried his face into his hood, clearly undisturbed by Nicholas's sour mood as they started down the street toward the Reine. The sun was hardly up and their shadows loomed across the sidewalk, stretching and shrinking like some kind of awkward monster. Nino found great enjoyment in that comparison, blabbering on about something or another his classmates had seen on TV following it immediately with the question of, "Can I have a television for my birthday?" which Nicholas took all of four seconds to shoot down. He was happy that Nino was beginning to fit in, he really was, but they were seriously running late and there was no way he was going to be able to run all the way across the city, drop his bro off with a simple, "Hey, hi, how are ya? Love to stick around and chat, but I'm currently about to be murdered by my professor for being tardy again, so cheerio!" and make it back before the final bell.

Nino was quiet for the rest of the trip, deciding to play with one of his shoelaces on the subway and people-watch. Having nothing better to do, Nicholas watched with him, noting several unusual passengers. There was a man with a ferret (how he got it on the train was a mystery), a family with three identical girls (how they managed to keep them straight was amazing to him), and an older man sitting quietly across the way, pretending to read a newspaper. (He said pretending because he was sure the man kept glancing their way whenever Nino was distracted by something. And also, the newspaper was upside down).

Their stop was fourth down the line and Nicholas hastily herded Nino onto the platform, stepping out just as the doors were giving their final ding of warning. He checked his watch, already dreading what he would see.

Ten minutes remaining.

"Come on!" he said urgently, scooping Nino onto his shoulders once more and taking off for the stairs, leaping up them two at a time. Nino clung to him tightly as he reemerged into the sunlight and darted down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd, eyes already fixed on the white marble glistening in the distance.

We aren't going to make it!

Sighing and once again wishing he had someone-anyone-he could call to alert his class that he was going to be late, he switched gears, picking up the pace, anddashing through the crosswalk, forcing several cars to slam on their breaks to avoid hitting them. Horns blared loudly but he just skittered around them, ignoring Nino's yelps of surprise from above him.

We have to make it.

"Watch where you're going, kid!" someone yelled, but Nicholas didn't hear, already out of earshot. He could almost see the seconds ticking away on his internal clock.

Eight minutes.

"How are you doing up there, akhi?" he inquired, skidding around a bend and choosing a side alley as a quicker route. It wasn't as pleasant as the main road, but they were running short on time.

"Little dizzy," Nino sniffed in response, nearly knocking Nicholas's cap off in his attempt to shift into a more comfortable position. "Lost."

"We're not lost, Nino," Nicholas assured him. "We're just taking a shortcut."

"Look lost."

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Just hang on tight. You trust me, don't you?"

Nino mumbled something unintelligible, and very likely not the confirmation Nicholas was hoping for.

"Thanks, tifl. Your faith in me is staggering."

Wary eyes of various furred creatures glared at them from the shadows as they cut through the last few steps of darkness and emerged back into the light, three streets away from their destination.

Four minutes.

Almost there.

Fighting the urge to pull out his skateboard and ride the rest of the way with Nino still on his shoulders, he pushed himself to his limits. His legs and lungs screamed for him to stop but he kept running. He was going to do at least one thing right today and get Nino to class on time. Maturity be darned, he would do whatever it took.

Reaching the stairs to the preschool with two minutes to spare, he threw open the door and rushed in. Nino slid off his shoulders and Nicholas took his hand, running with him to the check-in desk.

"Ah! Made it just in time!" the secretary laughed as Nino rushed past her into the classroom and Nicholas collapsed against the table, managing a half-smile as he doubled-over, breathless. "Nicholas, I presume?"

"Present."

She smiled. "Well, I thank you for bringing Nino today. I'll check him in. I suppose your parents will be the ones coming to pick him up afterwards?"

That was Nicholas's guess also, unless the trip to the hospital wasn't just routine after all. He didn't tell her that, but she didn't look like she really needed him to. "Okay," she went on. "Well, in that case, I figure you need to be getting along to your own homeroom."

Nicholas nodded, straightening and moving out of the way just as a blur of pink and blue sped past and barrelled into the room beside Nino, arms already thrown wide for a hug. Nicholas blinked, turning as a couple rushed through the door, looking as disoriented and confused as the boy felt.

"Sorry!" the man bellowed, hurrying over and knocking Nicholas off his feet in his haste to speak to the grinning secretary. "So sorry! We had a little trouble getting up and moving this morning, but we made it!"

"Yeah..." Nicholas groaned, rubbing his head from the ground. I'll say.

"Oh, dear! Honey, you need to be more careful! You knocked this poor boy over!" There was movement out of the corner of his eyes and he stared up at the extended hand offered by the small dark-haired woman smiling apologetically. "Are you okay, young man?"

"Yeah," Nicholas repeated slowly, still a bit dazed. "Yeah, I think so." Taking her hand, he pulled himself to his feet and adjusted his headphones. "Thanks."

"You must be Nino's brother," the woman chuckled, blinking up at him as he reached his full height, towering over her. "I'm Sabine Dupain-Cheng and this is my husband, Tom." The man waved, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "We're Marinette's parents."

"Uh...Marinette?"

"The hurricane of energy that just rushed past," Sabine explained, gesturing to the room where Nino and the girl were already sitting at the same table, sharing a box of crayons and scribbling something that Nicholas suspected wasn't paper.

"And we swear it wasn't the cookies!" Tom added, walking over. Nicholas cringed slightly at his loud voice but he steeled himself, managing to return an anxious smile. "We may own a bakery, but we don't encourage that much sugar consumption."

"I believe you," Nicholas muttered, already trying to scoot toward the door. He didn't want to appear rude, but he was already late for class. "Um...it was very...uh...nice to meet you, Mr. and Ms. Dupain-Cheng, but I...I am late so if you'd...ah...excuse me..." He gestured hopelessly to the exit and both of the adults' eyes lit up in understanding.

"I see," Sabine said, sharing a glance with her husband. "And I'm guessing you're planning on walking all the way back?"

"Well, I mean, I was gonna take the subway..."

"Nonsense!" Tom bellowed, earning another jump from the teen. "We'll drive you! No sense in being late, now is there?"

"Oh, that's okay. I mean, shukran lak, but I'm alright. I'm used to being late by now."

"Well, there's no reason you should be again!" Tom went on, putting a hand on Nicholas's shoulder and steering him toward the door.

"It's the least we can do," Sabine added, hurrying after them. "Please. Your brother has been a great help to our daughter. He's gotten her to come out of her shell a little. And we were so worried that she wouldn't get along with any of the kids. Nino's been a bit of blessing in disguise."

That's my brother. Loving to a fault. Although he wasn't sure about the whole blessing thing, he could hear the sincerity in their words. And he really couldn't afford to be late again. "Okay," he agreed slowly, intentionally pulling all gratitude into his french. "Thank you. Both of you. So much."

"No, Nicholas, thank you."

With Mr. and Ms. Dupain-Cheng's help, Nicholas managed to arrive at the steps to the school courtyard with just a minute to spare. Yelling a thank you over his shoulder, he flew up the stairs, nearly knocking several freshmen over in his haste to get to his locker. He felt the Dupain-Chengs' caring expressions all the way up until he rounded the final bend and trudged up the stairs to his homeroom, throwing himself through the door just at the end of the last bell.

"Ah, Mr. Lahiffe," Ms. Mendeleiev exclaimed, glancing over her lenses and frowning as he trudged up the raised desks to his dismal seat in the very back. "So nice of you to join us this morning! And on time for once too! What a fortuitous event."

Offering nothing more than a half-hearted nod, Nicholas sunk behind his desk, finally allowing himself to let out the heavy sigh he'd been carrying for the past half an hour. He was not one for last-minute changes to routine and Nino had really thrown him off his game that morning. Absentmindedly, he pulled out his textbook and flipped to the chapter written on the chalkboard.

Chapter 5: Folklorrs in French history. Pgs. 76-85.

Nicholas stared at the board in confusion. Something wasn't right there. He wasn't an expert in translating as of yet, but he was sure that-

He blinked and rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Chapter 5: Folklores in French history. Pgs. 76-85.

He must not have slept as well as he'd thought. He was seeing things. Biting his lip, he went back to scanning the textbook for important details that might crop up on a semi-anticipated pop quiz.

About halfway through the lecture, he felt something hard and wet slam into the back of his neck. With a yelp of surprise, he reacted accordingly, slapping a hand to his ear, his fingers brushing against a small wad of paper. He cringed, hearing snickers from across the room from a group of teenagers all sitting together and grinning stupidly in his direction. One of them was holding a straw and it didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

Ms. Mendeleiev paused her lecture at his outburst and glanced up at him. "Is everything all right, Nicholas?" she asked, her tone colder than a polar bear in the arctic.

The laughter went on as Nicholas rid his neck of the paper and wiped his hands on his pants. He glared at the perpetrators through narrowed eyes but answered calmly, "Yes, Ma'am. Sorry. I thought I saw a bee."

"Hmmm," the purple-haired woman frowned deeply. "Well, in the future, might I suggest you keep your dislike of flying insects to yourself while in the class?"

"Yeah, freak!" someone shouted from near the front of the class, not even deterring at Ms. Mendeleiev's sharp glare. "Why don't you just be quiet? None of us want to hear you stutter like a five-year-old!"

"Mr. Chance, that is quite enough!" Almost quicker than the eye could follow, their professor spun on her heels, waving her pointer at the student who had spoken up. "Mr. Lahiffe is part of this class and you will treat him as such. If I hear one more peep out of you, I will not hesitate to send you to the principal's office. Do I make myself clear?"

Nicholas was in shock. He would never have anticipated Ms. Mendeleiev would be the one to stand up for him. Actually, he was pretty sure she hated him. It looked like she hated disrespect even more and for once, he felt a spark of warmth flood through his veins as the scolded boy sunk low into his seat, tips of his ears turning red.

"Yes, Madam."

It was only after Ms. Mendeleiev looked away to resume her lesson that Nicholas spotted the venomous glare from his classmate. He wanted to say something, do something, react somehow, but he remained firmly in his seat, refusing to let the boy's bad temper overflow to him. Stay calm. Just breathe. You can't control what other people do. You can only choose your own way of responding.

That sounded like something his mother would say and the idea brought the smallest of smiles to his face.

The rest of class passed rather smoothly in his mind. They moved from history to mathematics and then science before breaking for lunch and Nicholas was just jotting down the last of his notes for lab in his journal when the bell rang, beginning the mad rush for the doors and the dining hall. The first ones out were those closest to the exit, followed closely by those in the second and third rows. Eventually, all the students had filed out, leaving Nicholas sitting alone in the back of the room, sketching around the border of his notes as he absentmindedly bit into his pre-wrapped sandwich and pulled his headphones back over his ears. It wasn't until he heard footsteps beside him that he paused his fiddling and glanced up to meet the concerned gaze of another of his professors, one just out of college herself.

"Hello, Nicholas."

He paused. "Miss Bustier," he responded cordially. "'Ahlan. Uh...can I help you with...can I help you?"

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "May I sit down?"

He blinked, startled. "Um...yeah...sure. Here." Gathering his books and backpack, he slid down the bench, making room for her, though he did not understand why she even wanted to speak to him in the first place.

Her gaze fell on his notebook. "Did you draw that?" she asked, pointing to a hastily-drawn sketch of a flower and a bird.

Nicholas hesitated. "Um...yes? It's...it's nothing," he added, quickly trying to tuck it underneath another of his textbooks. "It's...ah...just a doodle."

Miss Bustier smiled gently. "May I?"

"Uh, sure?"

"You're very talented, you know."

"Thank you?" Nicholas shifted uncomfortably. "It's...not one of my best. I...didn't have much to work with."

"But yet you drew it," Bustier went on. "Meaning it must have some kind of sentimental value to you."

Nicholas let out his breath. So that was what it was all about. "You're not here to talk about my art, are you, Madam Bustier?"

She grinned. "You always were a bright student, Nicholas. No, I'm here to talk about you. I want to know how you've been getting along. Moving to a new school is hard enough, but an entire country is something completely different. I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. And to make sure you know that I am here for you if you need anything. Okay?"

Nicholas nodded. "Okay, uh...thank you?" he repeated.

Miss Bustier nodded, patting him gently on the shoulders before standing up and moving away from the desks. "Change can be hard," she said. "But sometimes, it can bring about the most amazing sides of ourselves that we could never had anticipated." When Nicholas frowned, she quickly went on. "You have great potential. You just...need the chance to spread your wings. Trust me. One day, you'll see what I mean."

"I hope so," Nicholas confessed.

"Believe in yourself," she replied, starting back down the stairs now. "That's your answer. You are more than what's on the surface. But I think you already know that."

Nicholas watched, flabbergasted, as his English professor gave him one last smile before quietly exiting the room, leaving him sitting alone once more, music blaring out his headphones dangling forgotten around his neck. Slowly, his eyes drifted from the front of the classroom down to his sketchbook and he let the smallest of smiles creep onto his face.

Believe in myself. Yeah, that's not a bad idea actually. Thank you, Miss Bustier.

The mid-lunch bell rang again shortly after, but Nicholas did not hear it. Quietly, he stuffed his half-eaten lunch back into his backpack and threw the bag over his shoulder. With one smooth motion, he brought his music once more pulsing to his ears and he let himself be carried away by it as he softly exited the room and started off down the hall and through the main courtyard. He dodged around a team of double-dutch and narrowly avoided a basketball to the head as he hurried up the stairs to the dock overlooking the Reine, finding the beat in every step he took and every pulse of his heart. It was beautiful here, just pausing to take in the river as it sparkled majestically in the noon-day light. There was a peace that he felt, just watching the waves as they lapped the shores gently and purposelessly, free without a care in the world. Mashed with his shuffled playlist, there was a sense of calm that flooded his bones and repelled the negative emotions from his mind.

He inhaled, not caring if passerbys saw him and wondered what he was doing, gawking at the water when he could have been inside spending time making friends and influencing people (unlikely on both accounts, don't tell his parents). He tapped out a new rhyme on the concrete walk, hastily flipping to a new page in his notebook and jotting the lettering down before he forgot. He would figure out what they meant later. For now, he just allowed the music to flow through him.

It was almost possible to drown out the world this way.

Almost.

Just as he was about to reach the bridge of the chorus, he heard the more rapid flurry of people around him and he cautiously glanced up from his journal, noticing just how many spectators had gathered around him, all gasping and pointing to something across the Reine. Confused as to where they had all come from, Nicholas followed their gestures, and he nearly dropped his pencil in shock.

Smoke.

There was smoke rising from somewhere in the downtown heart of the city.

And by the looks of things, it wasn't someone having a weenie-roast.

What is happening?!

"It's the hospital!" someone yelled from behind him. He spun, but could not locate the source of the voice. "There's a fire in the hospital!"

The hospital! Mom and Dad! Adrenaline propelled him to his feet and he was already turning before his brain could even process what it was he was doing. Immediately, he yanked out his phone and dialed his father's cell, meanwhile shouldering his way through the crowd toward the nearest bridge. Come on! Pick up! Pick up!

The phone went straight to voicemail and Nicholas fought back the engulfing panic. Without thinking, he broke into a full sprint, tearing through the crowds, which parted like the Red Sea as he passed. If he hadn't been so panicked about this predicament, he might have found the Biblical allusions ironic.

But now was not the moment to make the connections. He reached the bridge and dashed across, already dialing and redialing the number, coming up with a voicemail each time.

They're not answering! Why aren't they answering?

Fearing the worst, he could feel hot tears sting his eyes as he immediately began to see scenarios of his parents both being killed, him having to drop out of school and find a job to help Nino, of never having the ordinary life his family had dreamed of.

The tears came harder and faster now, latching onto his face thanks to the biting winds and nipping at his exposed hands and eyes, earning a sniffle from the teen as he rounded another bend, the smoke growing thicker by the minute.

He was only a couple of streets away now and he could hear the sirens of the approaching fire and police department. But it was far too late for that. The flames were entirely out of control. Even from where he stood, he knew that. There was no way they could be able to save everyone.

Mom!

Dad!

"Musaeida!" he shrieked rounding the final corner and getting his first good look at what he was up against. "Help! Musaeida!"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!"

Strong arms suddenly seized him from behind and yanked him back amid his screams. Arms flailing, Nicholas was aware of multiple bodies surrounding him, holding him back even as he tried to break free.

"Take it easy, kid! You can't go in there! It's not safe!"

"I have to!" Nicholas bellowed, clawing desperately for freedom. "Al'umu! Ab! My parents! They're in there!" And maybe my baby brother or sister too! "I have to get to them!"

"You can't go in!" was the sharp response. "The entire structure is unstable! You'll get hurt!"

"But my family!" Nicholas cried.

"Stay back, kid! Let the police do their job!" the voice was panicky, the grip on his arms fading. "Everything is going to be all right, okay? The firefighters are here! They'll take care of this! Everything will be fine!"

Nicholas half wondered if the man was trying to convince him or himself more of that.

But either way, it didn't matter.

There was a shout from somewhere near the front of the building. A cry of warning, perhaps? Of danger? He couldn't tell.

A moment later, the entire structure blew outwards in a blinding display of fierce power, and Nicholas was completely enveloped by red and fire.