Resurrection (46 page)

“Justin?” Katie said.

Nathan shoved her into a chair behind him and snarled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of here and keep your mouth shut.”

It just so happened I did
not
know what was good for me, so take that Nathan! I pushed my bottle-bottom glasses up my nose—to stall for time—and tried to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. Granted, I hadn’t planned this out past—well, this point. The only time I’d saved anyone had been when two goblins took Queen Alexandria prisoner. I’d beaten the goblins with my level twenty sword by sneaking up on them and stabbing them in the backs. Of course, Queen Alexandria was really Gabby Hughes, a pimpled fatty who could pass for a goblin in real life, and the goblins were a couple of newbies to the Kings and Castles scene who didn’t even know how to make their own foam weapons.

Nathan, on the other hand, had practice beating up nerds. A lot of practice. He glared at me from across the room and probably decided I wasn’t going to flee like most rational people would have at this point. He plowed through three rows of desks, sending them screeching and skidding to the sides, his hands outstretched. I froze and nearly wet my pants. He lunged. I threw up the broomstick in a defensive gesture. He snatched it from me and snapped it over his knee like a twig.

Reason fled from me like a gibbering madman. I yelped before dodging to the side as Nathan threw the broken handle at me. One half nailed me in the head. I tripped on a desk. It flipped and I rolled over the top of it, somehow landing on my side while the desk clattered against the floor. Nathan laughed. I rolled onto my back in time to see him grab another student desk by its metal legs and lift it over his head like a club.

Katie screamed. “Stop it!” She ran for the door.

Sheer panic, the kind that convinces your body to forget potty training, punched me in the guts. Agony paid a visit to my cranium once again in the form of a skull-shattering headache. In a few seconds, that desk was going to make the headache seem minor.

Time seemed to slow. The light in the room brightened. The odor of sour fear mingled with Old Spice and the chemical bite of industrial floor cleanser, attacked my nose. The volume of Katie’s scream spiked to an eardrum-rupturing wail. My eyes swept across the room, picking out minor details I’d never noticed before. A crack marred the surface of the chalkboard. Someone had carved curse words on Mrs. Dalton’s desk. Five number two pencils jutted from the ceiling tiles. Mustard stained Nathan’s faded red T-shirt. A ghostly presence demanded my attention and drew my eyes to Katie’s slow-motion fleeing form. It drifted from her body in a halo of steam, vanishing into the ether just inches from her skin. What was it? Gas? Vapor? A part of me could feel it. It felt hot and sensual and—

Holy crap a desk is about to crush my face!

Time sped up again. My hands shot up, palms out in a vain attempt to intercept the desk as Nathan swung it down on me. Life was at an end. Horrific images flashed past: How the impact would shatter both hands and crush my face to a bloody unrecognizable pulp. Only dental records would identify me after this mauling.

Plastic surgery, here I come.

Although plastic surgery might be a good thing. I could use a few tweaks and some serious liposuction. Lasik eye surgery wouldn’t be bad either. It occurred to me that putting a positive spin on my imminent face smashing was a very odd way to be spending the last split second of my life.

The desk smacked against my hands with a loud
whack
. I gritted my teeth in anticipation of bone-crushing agony. Pain apparently had gone on holiday because it never arrived. I cracked open an eye. One hand gripped the front edge of the desk. The other gripped the vinyl seat attached by metal tubing to the rest of the desk. Nathan’s scarlet face glared at me from above. He was trying to force it down on my face. And failing.

This came as quite a shock to me. It didn’t even feel like I was straining. I let my arms relax ever so slightly so I could bend my elbows. Nathan grunted in triumph. I shoved back with everything I had and let go of the desk.

Nathan’s nose gave a sickening crunch. He bellowed and pinwheeled like a ballerina on drugs and rollerblades, smashing backwards through several desks until he bounced off the wall and landed on his butt. Then it was all over but the screaming—Nathan’s screaming. I felt my undamaged face to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My glasses rested halfway up my forehead. I pulled them down over my eyes just as my body went limp as overcooked spaghetti. It was all I could do to wiggle my toes.

Katie raced back into the room. Apparently, she’d run into the hall to yell for help. “My God, you’re alive,” she said, sounding as surprised as I felt.

“Ungh?” I said. My mouth didn’t want to work. Neither did my legs.

Katie tugged on my arm but she wasn’t about to pull me off the floor without a winch. I rolled onto my knees and slowly pushed myself to my feet while she grunted and tugged on my arms. I hoped she didn’t give herself a hernia. Nathan, thankfully, was too busy bleeding and crying for his mommy to do much else.

One of the school security guards raced into the room, gave a wide-eyed look at the disarrayed desks, and then bent down so I could throw an arm over his shoulder. He helped me stagger from the room.

“It was so scary,” Katie told the guard. “Nathan and I were supposed to be doing an after-school project, but he kept asking me to go on a date with him. When I told him no, he freaked. Like, totally capital-F
freaked
. I should have listened to my dad and taken karate.”

Katie continued her rapid-fire narrative while the guard directed her—and dragged me—into the Home Economics classroom and told us to wait there while he handled the situation. The room had no desks, only a couple of old couches and an industrial kitchen. I dropped onto a couch. Katie pulled up a chair and sat opposite me.

She stood my height. Long golden-blonde hair hung just past her neck. A freckle adorned her pert nose. And her eyes—those green eyes could start a rainstorm. She and her family had moved into town a couple of years ago. From the first time I’d laid eyes on her athletic body and gorgeous face I had been utterly smitten. Katie knew the popular crowd but never sold her soul to be a part of them. Cheerleading didn’t appeal to her, and forget beauty queen contests. She was the real deal, a hot chick with a brain in her head and my heart in her back pocket.

Ugh, I’m such a romantic.

“You saved me,” Katie said, lighting up the vicinity with a radiant smile.

My heart melted. “I did?” I said in my usual confident manner. “I mean, uh, I guess I did.”

“What happened? How did you break his nose?”

Considering I could hardly lift my arms, I was certain an insane spike of adrenalin had saved my life. But I couldn’t very well tell her I overpowered Nathan. Then every other football player would decide to put that braggadocio to the test. As it was, I would probably suffer in horrible and creative ways for this encounter.

“He tripped,” I said.

She hugged me and pecked me on the cheek. “You’re my hero. He could have killed you.”

I shrugged. “I had to save the damsel in distress.”

She put her hand over mine. Heat rushed up my arm and into my body. She smiled. “Did you feel that? I’m pretty sure we just became best friends.”

Oh, I felt it all right. I wanted to burst into song and dance around the room. I felt like the man. The Westley to her Buttercup. Her knight in shining armor. I was on top of the world.

Unfortunately, it also meant I had a very long way to fall.

Chapter 2

The next day as I hopped on the school bus, all eyes locked onto me. Word had gotten around about my “fight” with Nathan. People whispered. Someone laughed.

“Congrats, Justin. You almost got our best football player expelled,” said a guy from somewhere behind me.

I didn’t turn to look. I didn’t stop moving until reaching the back of the bus and settling into an empty seat next to the window. A wad of paper flew through the air and landed in the unoccupied seat ahead of me. I hunched down and looked out the window, watching as my tree-lined neighborhood vanished from sight and was soon replaced by the tall buildings of downtown Decatur, Georgia, one of many towns swallowed up in the sprawl of metro Atlanta. It was all I could do to ignore the jibes and taunts lobbed at me, but I was in no mood to get my butt kicked by standing up for myself.

I could hardly believe the school board had almost expelled Nathan. They never punished football players, especially not all-stars. The Quarterback Club was legendary for getting its way with anything. I probably should have been more worried about the potential fallout, but all I could think of was Katie and how she’d reward me for coming to her rescue.

After the bus reached the school I trudged into the basketball gymnasium where our beloved administrators corralled the students before homeroom began. I searched for Katie and noticed she sat with her two best friends, Jenny Matthews and Annie Holmes. The three of them looked at me then turned back to each other, glee in their eyes, mouths chattering at light speed. They could be talking about knitting sweaters for all I knew, but it didn’t matter. It felt like every stray gaze was meant for me and every moving mouth was gossiping about my fight with Nathan.

I wanted to sit next to Katie. Wanted to see her smile, the curve of her lips, and know the light in those jade eyes of hers was meant for me. Instead, I veered right, walked up the bleachers, and took the first empty seat I found. I cursed myself for my inability to man up and take my rightful spot next to her. Then again, what made me think I even had a chance? My chubby frame, thick glasses, and long hair didn’t exactly make me God’s gift to women.

A group of Goth students entered the gym. Hoots and hollers rang out from behind me. I looked up and saw Nathan Spelman and the other football flunkies hurling insults at the odd group. My body went cold. I hadn’t realized how close I was sitting to them. I tried to make myself small and unnoticeable. My generous proportions didn’t cooperate. If the school board had almost expelled Nathan, why was he already back at school? I’d expected a suspension at the least.
Stupid jocks get away with everything.

The Goth group, two guys and a girl, tromped past in their platform shoes. Thank God they existed to take unwanted attention off me. I might be nerdy but at least I didn’t look bizarre. As they passed me, the Goth girl’s eyes widened and settled on me with such intensity that I turned away and checked for loose boogers. I couldn’t tell if she was sizing me up for a cannibalistic ritual or wondering if I might be a good recruit to her group of weirdoes.

I stared at my
Lord of the Rings
backpack instead and decided now would be a good time to catch up on homework. Pushing my worries away, I made the finishing touches on my History essay due in another week. Going to MIT was my dream. History class wasn’t exactly going to get me there, but I had to maintain decent grades across the board if I wanted to stand a chance.

The bell rang. I jammed my books into my raggedy backpack until it was bursting at the seams.

“Whoops!” said a deep voice. A large foot connected with my History book and notebook, sent them skidding down the bleachers and into the crowd of students filing out of the gym. Pages of my essay scattered, floating down to the floor to be walked on.

Nathan gave me a sarcastic look of surprise as he and his group of guffawing toadies sauntered past.

“Letters to your mommy?” one of them said.

Pure rage infected my body. I gripped my Calculus textbook in white-knuckled anger. Thankfully, some rational part of my brain locked my muscles in place before they led me to certain doom. I packed up my other books and waited for the crowd of students to die down so I could find my book and essay. My heart pounded anxiously. All that work, probably rendered illegible from footprints.

I retrieved the book from the bottom bleacher as the last few students filed out of the gym.

“This yours?” said a feminine voice.

I turned and was shocked to see the Goth girl handing me a sheaf of papers with dirty footprints all over them.

“Yeah, th-thanks,” I said, stuttering slightly.

Her eyes were an amazing light violet hue lost in a sea of black eyeliner. Her gaze seemed to lose focus as if she were looking through my skin and into my mind. I felt very uncomfortable being the subject of that questing stare. I looked down at the trampled essay to avoid her eyes. When I flicked my gaze up again, she was already leaving the gym. I felt like a jerk for not being more grateful, but she creeped me out.

I made my way to homeroom which was bound to be another unpleasant experience since Katie’s two best buds sat right behind me. Sure enough, Annie and Jenny’s eyes widened the moment I stepped through the door. They huddled together and started whispering. Probably something terrible about me. I did my best to ignore them and dropped into my desk. I shuffled through my essay, wincing at how dirty the pages were. I had planned to type it out anyway. Just as long as I could still read it, I was good.

Jenny tapped my shoulder. “I’ll bet you think you’re the man now, don’t you?”

Annie giggled. “Justin? The man? More like the boy.”

I gritted my teeth and tried to think of something witty to say. Nothing came to mind except possibly calling them demonic parasites which, while descriptive, probably would not help me out with Katie. I made a show of reading my essay, pretending I hadn’t heard them from all of two feet away.

“Guys are such creeps,” Jenny said. “I don’t even know why girls put up with it.”

Annie gave the sigh of the long suffering. “Tell me about it. Like that skeezy Alan Weaver. He’s such a stalker, always staring at Cindy Mueller like he wants to rape her.”

I had a feeling these two would fit right in on a morning talk show some day, gossiping about movie stars, or maybe starring in one of the
Real Housewives
reality shows so they could tell a national audience about their terrible sex lives.