The Twelve-Fingered Boy by John Hornor Jacobs

Goodreads Storygraph

"Fifteen-year-old Shreve Cannon doesn't mind juvie. He's got a good business dealing contraband candy, and three meals a day are more than his drunk mother managed to provide. In juvie, the rules never change and everyone is the same. In juvie, Shreve has life figured out. Then the new fish shows up. Jack's a quiet kid. Small. Cries himself to sleep too. He's no standard-issue titty-baby, though. There's his hands--more specifically his fingers, all twelve of 'em. And when he gets angry, something weird happens. The air wavers. You feel a slight pressure in your chest. And then...well, best take cover. Jack isn't the only new face in juvie. There's Mr. Quincrux. Quincrux has an unusual interest in Jack and Shreve, and it quickly becomes clear that innocent bystanders aren't going to get in his way. So Jack and Shreve bust out. On the lam, they quickly discover that Jack has abilities--hell, superpowers--that might just give them a fighting chance against Quincrux, if they can stay alive long enough to figure them out."

...and so begins the very straightforwardly named Twelve-Fingered Boy trilogy! I feel the need to disclaim this series' potential shortcomings: it's YA (not that there's anything wrong with that); it has a snarky straight boy protagonist (not that there's anything wrong with that); it has been read by maybe 500 real people (not that...ok, you get it). But this book is like a little worm that lives inside my brain. Shreve is genuinely interesting and sympathetic protagonist, and the narrative simply will not let him go. If you are on the hunt for poor little meow meows and/or want to contract my obscure YA horror brainworms, you should read this book (and message me about it).