Kon hated the tie.

It scratched against his neck like it knew he didn’t belong there. The blazer wasn’t much better—too stiff in the shoulders, too clean, too normal. He shifted his weight from one sneakered foot to the other in front of the high school’s glass doors, resisting the urge to tear the whole outfit off and fly out of there. But instead, he forced a tight-lipped smirk and glanced sideways at his partner in crime for the week—his so-called “classmate.” Babysitting some shady metahuman energy spike was one thing. Pretending to care about trigonometry while going undercover as a senior in high school was another.

He muttered, “Can’t believe I let Tim talk me into this.”