Reject High (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 1) (11 page)

“Champion,” said the gym teacher in a gruff voice. “You’re up.”

I hate baseball more than any other sport - even more than golf or high school football. Watching either on television is torture. My father is a Dodgers fan, and though he went to Chavez Ravine all of the time when he and Debra were married, he never took either one of us to see a game. He golfed, too, on Sunday mornings, instead of going to church with us. 

But I needed at least one “A” on my pitiful report card, so I grabbed a bat and stepped up. The junior throwing the ball tossed fastballs I barely saw before they reached the plate.

With the bat inches above my shoulder, I geared up to swing. The first time I was way behind. With the second, a part of the bat grazed the ball enough to send it spinning off to my right. On the third, I missed again.

“Nice one,
Freak.”
All underclassmen got called “freaks,” but this kid was asking for it.

“Back off!” I yelled, pointing the bat to the empty outfield. “What do you see, genius?
Nobody!
No college scouts, general managers, just
you.
Cut it out!”

He wound up and served me a curveball that dipped and smacked into my swinging bat at the last second. Thankfully, it was a sunny day outside, because I sent that ball somewhere to the other side of I-48. He shielded his eyes to look for it and gave up after a second or two of nothing.

“Hey, Coach?” I asked our teacher. He never coached anything, but loved it when we called him that. “Can I grab the baseballs?”

“Knock yourself out, Champion,” he said. “The rest of you get the bats. Move it inside.”

I grabbed a bag and picked up every ball I could find, which didn’t include the one I’d hit. What was that kid’s name, anyway? It didn’t matter. Using my abilities felt
good.
I couldn’t help it. One thing Peters said echoed in my mind.
You lack control.
He was right. At least I had enough to stay alive three times – the accident and both times he’d shot me.

With the bag slung over my shoulder, I walked back to the gym, thinking about the kid on the mound, pitching as if it wasn’t just batting practice.

That’s when it hit me –
the chess game
. I’d made eight moves on the board without noticing it. Welker was playing
without his king and queen
. Minus them, I didn’t have an enemy. What was that supposed to mean – the principal was on my side? I was fighting an enemy that didn’t exist?
 

I dropped off the ball bag and hustled to Welker’s office. His door was shut, but I saw two shadows standing behind the frosted glass. One of them was short and broad, like Peters, and the other was tall and powerful-looking, with a gun at his right hip – a
cop. 
 

“Alright, Goth Girl,” I said, hoping she was already in there. “Do your thing.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

we might as well be secret agents

During class changes I stayed put in front of Welker’s office. The murmuring between the shadow, who I thought was Peters, and a police officer sounded like a pleasant conversation, not an interrogation.

According to our plan, Rhapsody had already sneaked inside and found a place to hide. She’d eavesdrop when our principal questioned Peters, the science teacher who’d almost killed us. Hopefully, she didn’t accidentally bump into anything. Maybe that’s how Peters caught her last night. She said she’d gotten close to him and suddenly reappeared without warning. None of us could figure out why.

I hurried to study hall and watched the clock, starting at 2:20. Selby and I traded looks. The office hadn’t called for Rhapsody yet, which meant Ruby hadn’t arrived to take her to the doctor’s office.

Selby fiddled with his pencil. “Plan B?” he asked me.

Not yet
, I mouthed.

It was clear this kid was enjoying his powers too much. That’s one of a million reasons I wanted to limit our little club to two people. There’s no way I’d super-speed in and out of the girls’ locker room while they showered. He did that and copped to it.
Now Selby is a bully AND a pervert.

At 2:25 the front office called for Rhapsody over the school’s public address system. The teacher didn’t know she was supposed to be in the class, so he kept his head buried in the sports magazine he was reading.

It was time for Plan B.

I turned my head toward Selby, who zipped out of the room and returned so soon the only way I knew he’d left in the first place is that he fell over in his desk when he arrived. Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t have control.

Everyone in the classroom laughed, except for the teacher, who lost his place in the article he’d been reading. “Mr. Selby,” he said with disgust. “Find something to do.”

“Alright,” he said, struggling to get to his feet again.

The only reason I didn’t laugh was because he’d just saved Rhapsody. Sure enough, about a minute later she poked her head into the room, held up her cell phone, and whispered “thank you.”

We planned to meet later that afternoon, in a park central to all of our homes. While Rhapsody and I knew exactly where each of us lived, Selby said his house was “close” and he’d meet us there around 4 p.m., after we served dungeon duty. It didn’t make me nervous to go back, especially since there was nothing that could hurt us, including a gun-toting teacher.

By the time I got to the red basement door, Janitor Brad had already unlocked it. I switched the lights on and got to work. When creaking hinges broke my concentration, I reminded myself of my deadbeat father and immediately felt powerful. I turned around and saw Sasha tiptoeing down the stairs. “Watch out,” I warned her.

“What?” she asked innocently, sidestepping the rotten fourth board. “Oh,
that?
It’s not my first time down here. I get flagged for dress code all of the time.”

Sasha shed the sweater she’d been forced to wear during the day and tossed it onto a plastic chair to the right of the bottom of the stairs. Her high platform shoes made her about three inches taller than I was.

No longer angry but nervous, I cleared my throat. “You shouldn’t be down here.” 

“You got that right,” she said, with disgust. “Sasha Anderson doesn’t do stuff like this. At least the company is good.”

I continued working with my natural muscles, packaging old textbooks. Inside one of the cartons was a collection of yearbooks. Dusty and smelling like old cheese, they dated back to the eighties, which pretty much made them prehistoric to me. One day, when I really got bored, I might crack one of them open. My mom Anna went here – so did Rhapsody’s dad George. It might be funny to see him from way back then.

Sasha made herself at home by sitting on her sweater and repeatedly crossing and uncrossing her legs. I ignored them, because whatever she was up to, I didn’t need to get in any more trouble today.  

“Why haven’t you called me?”

It had only been a day, but I told her the truth. “I didn’t think you’d notice if I didn’t.”

She balled her fists. “What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

Did I have to spell it out? I’ve never been popular. On a good day, I heard someone call me “cute” – NOT cool for a guy. There was no reason someone as hot as Sasha should be interested in me, and yet, here she was, flirting with me. Whatever she wanted, I didn’t have it. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you mean? What have you heard about me?”

The only valuable thing Ray ever taught me was to avoid trap questions by a girl. If I said, “You’re a good girl,” she’d think I was lying. If I said she had a bad reputation, she’d be offended even if it was true. “You’re Selby’s girl,” I responded.

“I’m not his girl anymore.” She pursed her lips. “We broke up last fall.”

“That’s not what he thinks.” I thought back to my ruined shirt.

“He doesn’t think, not about anyone but himself. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me, because of him? Are you afraid of him?”

“Please.” If anything, he
should fear
me
.

“Then what?”

I hadn’t noticed her moving, but she now stood next to me, closer than I’d ever been to her. Sasha’s eyes were innocent, almond-shaped and gentle. She smelled like the fruity kind of soaps Debra uses to pamper herself.

She exhaled, and moved close enough for strands of her hair to tickle the sides of my face. I turned my head, so that our lips brushed. One of us drifted forward – I’m not sure who – but we kissed for a few minutes. My right hand drifted to the small of her back, and she touched my shoulders. I pulled away to breathe – if I became too excited, I might have accidentally thrown her through the ceiling.

“That was nice.”

I wished I’d never said that out loud, but it made Sasha laugh. She gave me a quick peck on the lips and cocked her head at an angle, looking past my left ear.  

“What is
that
?” She pointed behind me. Without looking, I knew what she meant.

“What?” I asked her. It sounded better than, “an emerald that gives me superpowers.”

Using the light from her cell phone, Sasha navigated to the crack in the wall and touched it with her hand. She whipped her head around. “Have you ever seen this? It looks like your necklace crystal. Feel it.”

I waved my hand. “Nope, I’m good.”

She giggled. “It warms my hand. C’mere, you
have
to try this!”

To keep her from asking again, I did what she asked me to do. The crystal heated my hand, too, and the front of my neck where the charm was hanging. Nothing suggested this change was negative, but I didn’t think it was all that good, either.

“Here,” she said, handing me the hammer Rhapsody used. “Help me get a piece off. My birthstone is emerald, and green’s my favorite color. Wouldn’t
two pieces
make a great pair of earrings?”

An alarm went off inside of me.
Two crystals?
The only person I’d ever seen with more than one was Peters, who’d tried to kill me – twice. Having one was bad enough to deal with, and this secret was rapidly getting out of control. Me, Rhapsody, then Selby today, and now Sasha, too? Before long, every Reject High student would be wearing green stones in their class rings and tearing the town apart. That
couldn’t
happen.

“Sasha,” I said, handing her the hammer. “Where did it even come from? It might not be safe. We should probably leave that alone.”

“Why?”

Now, I’d interested her in a reason I hadn’t made up yet. Think Jason, think. “You’ll ruin the surprise.” I reached into my pocket and held out the other crystal from this morning.

Sasha bounced up and down on her platforms. “This is for
me?”

“Not yet,” I said, closing my palm. “Since you want earrings, I’ll need some time to shave this down into a pair. Can you wait for them,
without telling anyone about this?”

“Don’t keep me waiting long.” She kissed me on the cheek, reached into my front right shorts pocket, and pulled out my cell phone. I nearly swallowed my tongue. “I’m putting in my number. Call me
tonight.”

For once, thinking on my feet had paid off. Maybe there was a way to substitute real emeralds or some other green jewel. In the open air she probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “Count on it.”

Sasha practically floated out of the room, happy that a guy she barely knew had promised to give her jewelry. Now, in addition to Peters, and Cherish’s unsolved suicide/murder, we had another problem. How do we remove the crystal from the wall before someone else discovered it?  

Selby and I reached the playground first, where I broke the news to him. His ex-girlfriend was into me, and she’d found the green rock in the wall. I’d promised to make earrings for her. Either that, or I’d steal some knockoffs.

Once he stopped laughing, he realized I wasn’t joking – especially when I showed him Sasha’s latest text message. “That’s her number, right?” I asked him.  

Selby huffed. “Whatever. Knowing her, we’ve got a day or so before the entire school knows about it. Get it out of the wall, the whole thing, before it’s too late.”

“Too late for
what?”

“Rhapsody’s right, you really
are
clueless. If you don’t get it out, someone else will.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

Rhapsody joined us from behind. I wanted to tell her about Sasha and the kissing. I felt like I owed it to her, whether she liked me or not. Selby didn’t say anything, so neither would I. “What did you hear?” I asked her.  

“Thanks for opening the door, Selby.” She dug her hands into her pockets. “I almost didn’t make it out. Welker started searching the room right before that.”

The gravity in her voice even weighed me down. “What happened?”

Rhapsody produced her cell phone and pressed
play
on the voice recorder application. The sound quality wasn’t perfect, but we could tell three voices apart.

You really shot at three kids, Jeff?
Rhapsody narrated over parts. “That was Spivey talking,” she said. “The
ping
sounds were bullet shells he dropped on the desk.”