Infinity Son Adam Silvera (classic books for 12 year olds .txt) 📖

to save William. We did a mini stakeout and even convinced William to close up early. It was a good lie because, for all Emil knew, we prevented disaster. I felt guilty after we got home, though. No matter how happy he was for me, Emil was getting more and more frustrated when his own power wasn’t surfacing. I couldn’t lead him on like that any longer, so I came clean. He punched me really hard in the arm for waking him up at three in the morning over a fake vision of a fake crime, but then he laughed it off and said it would’ve been awesome if we really did get powers on our birthday. Better than a chosen one—the chosen two.

Fast-forward to today, and I never saw any of this coming.

This can’t be real.

I try shaking Emil awake in the streets, but nothing. He still has a pulse, but between the burning up, bump on his head, and cut lip, I’ve never seen him in such critical condition, and my own heart is racing harder than when we were fighting for our lives on the train. Drivers are getting out of their cars and pedestrians are calling for help, but we can’t waste time waiting around for an ambulance. Prudencia is quick with hailing a cab, and we carry Emil into the backseat.

“Darden Hospital, now!” I shout with my brother’s head in my lap.

The driver looks hesitant before taking off. “Make sure he doesn’t bleed all over my backseat.”

Prudencia is fighting back tears, but her voice is firm. “We should take him to Gleam Care.”

I’m still in total shock that my brother even qualifies to receive assistance from gleamcraft practitioners. “No one will take care of Emil like Ma will.”

“Emil’s blood may need special treatment, Brighton. Let trained celestials revive him.”

I nod.

“Take us to the Vega Center on the Concourse,” Prudencia instructs.

I’m digging my nails into Emil’s arm. I don’t care if it hurts him; maybe he’ll wake up. “Why didn’t he tell me he did this?”

“Emil wouldn’t willingly become a specter,” Prudencia says. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe he drank the potion without realizing what it was. Emil loves phoenixes too much to steal their essence.”

I know she has a point, but there’s something so off about all of this. And already, I’m struck with how badly I want to talk nonsense with Emil, how stupid I was to think that I won’t miss him when I leave for school. We can figure out the phoenix blood business later, but as I’m freaking out over if my brother is going to be okay again, I’m missing when we ask each other questions the world doesn’t need answering. Like what I would do if I suddenly grew two extra arms or how Emil would occupy himself if he were stuck in an empty room for a whole week. No one else cares that I would take up wrestling if I had four arms or that Emil would have the time to perfect his cartwheels, but this is the kind of stuff you talk about with someone you’ve known your entire life. And Emil isn’t allowed to die now because we have so much more to chat about as old men on our deathbeds.

I’m shaking too much to call Ma so Prudencia grabs my phone and takes over, giving her the heads-up to meet us at the hospital.

We arrive at the Vega Center for Gleam Care, where we haul Emil through the lobby until nurses place him on a stretcher, wheeling him away to a room where we can’t follow. I’m not trying to hang out in the waiting room or pretend a magazine will have the power to distract me. It didn’t work the countless hours we waited for Dad, and it won’t work for Emil. I pace the halls, feeling Prudencia’s eyes on me as I go back and forth between the check-in counter and the gender-neutral bathrooms. Who knows how long later, but I’m rescued from dark thoughts when my mother shouts my name.

“Where is he?” Ma asks with her hand pressed against her heart.

“He’s already in the ER.”

Ma sees how busted we look and pulls us both into a hug. “Are you okay? Do you need to be seen too?”

“We’re fine. Thanks, Carolina,” Prudencia says.

Ma runs her fingers over my swollen eye. “What happened?”

“We were headed home when . . .” I shut up. I’m not talking about Emil’s powers; that’s his call. “A specter jumped us on the train. We were okay until Emil fainted in the middle of the street, so we brought him here in case there was some side effect.”

She bursts into tears. “Is he okay? What powers did the specter have?”

“It was strange,” Prudencia says. “He could phase through us and the door like a celestial, but he also had phoenix fire.”

“Is Emil okay? Was he burned?”

“No, Ma.”

She takes a deep breath, but she’s shaking. We guide her to the waiting room, and Prudencia keeps her company while I stay by the doors my brother is behind.

I’m getting more and more steps in when my phone goes off and won’t chill. There’s a stream of notifications that keep coming in, like people asking me Do you have powers too? and saying Upload an interview with your brother! I finally stop in my tracks.

I’ve been tagged in several videos where all the thumbnails are cropped pictures of Emil holding phoenix fire. I click the viral video so fast, even though I know the scene firsthand. I watch, getting to see the moment the gray and gold fire first lights up my brother’s fist, paying close attention to Emil’s reaction—he’s just as shocked as anyone.

The video is making serious numbers. Any outsider would assume Emil is extremely popular online and not someone with a near-dead Instagram with posts that never even get a thousand likes. I check out all of Emil’s social media accounts. His Twitter of two-hundred-plus followers who hang around for