Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1) (24 page)

The third thing he felt to be true was his
dream visions. Charlotte was a prisoner, his mother and grandfather
had had a shouting match, his father was in Bangladesh surrounded
by people that probably hated him, and most importantly: Terrence
had warned Mr. L to
leave town
.

One other thing was true that he hadn’t
thought of since the hospital: Charlotte had been there in the
Marcus Patterson gym. She was
there
.

These things were all true for Michael. So he
couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Anyway who knew? Maybe they
had other telepath people who could turn him back to normal after
Jackson made him think he was an alligator.

He began to search on the internet for
synergy, but only found it was a word that meant two things working
well together. Next, he searched synergism, but found nothing.
Third, he brought up synergist.

The computer screen immediately flashed red
and told him that he was searching through classified information.
His computer had sent a flag to the United States Homeland Security
office, and that this was a warning. If he continued searching
about this sort of thing, he would be fined.

Now he felt absolutely alone. The screen had
made it clear there was no one about to help him. There was no one
who believed in him, and no one he could trust, not even himself.
Lily hadn’t helped him in the slightest, just added to the list of
things he hadn’t known, and then she’d brought in Terrence
Jackson.

Wait a second.

Wasn’t Michael’s mind supposed to be erased?
If Jackson could turn him into a human chicken, then surely he
could scoop out a few memories, and maybe even put new ones back.
Instead, he remembered every second of his confrontation with the
evil teacher. Of course, that meant remembering all the pain, all
the threats, himself screaming and crying and powerless.

“You’ve got to finish your homework, dear,”
his mother called out.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been cleaning your room for almost an
hour, and MICHAEL EDWARD!” He hadn’t realized she was coming into
his room. “What have you been doing? The place still looks like
McKorsky tore through it with one of his mini-tornadoes.”

“I-”

“I’ll take the video games out of here,” she
warned.

“Mo-om,” he said.

“And the e-book contraption.”

“I wasn’t-”

“And the computer.”

“Okay!”

“Get it done before dinner time. After dinner
you’ve got homework. And don’t tell me you don’t, because I called
about your extra readings. I know you’ve got loads.”

He sighed and set to work.

“And don’t throw it all in the closet either!
I swear I’ll open it and check. If I’m killed in an avalanche
you’ll be grounded until you’re thirty.”

Dinner was meatloaf and cheesy potatoes, one
of his favorites. He knew this was a white flag. His mother was
trying to tell him she wanted a truce. No more fighting. No more
cheap shots about secrets, and no more shouting at him. Time to be
normal, the meatloaf said. It was the most boring thing you could
bake in the oven. Sure it was nice, but there wasn’t anything
special about it.

After dinner she announced that it was
homework time, and she would be watching over his shoulder when the
doorbell stopped her.

“Who could that be?” she asked.

Unless it was Trent or the girl who’d broken
the school coming to apologize, Michael could bet safely on one of
his mother’s friends.

It was Grandpa.

“Harold,” she said. “You didn’t call.”

“Apologies, mm, uhh, Susanna,” Grandpa said.
“Might I come in? Bit chilly out here.”

“Sure, yes, sure, come on in.”

Grandpa stomped the snow out of his boots,
shook some more snow out of his hat, and came inside. Before his
mother was finished putting Grandpa’s coat and hat in the coat
closet, Michael saw him look up and wink.

“Well what brings you over here so late?”

“Ah, well, you know, like to get out and
stretch the old legs a bit. I’d like a word with Michael if you
don’t mind.”

“Sure, sure thing,” she said.

But she stayed in the room, still looking
awkwardly at Grandpa and Michael.

“Well why don’t we head on in to your bedroom
then?”

“Um…okay.” Michael had a sudden stab of hope.
Maybe Grandpa had found out about Terrence and was going to call in
his other telepath to sort out all the issues with Michael’s
blended brain.

“Won’t be long!” Grandpa said, and did
something Michael had never seen him do: not so much run, but jump
up a tiny bit and sort of rush to Michael’s door. His hopes fell
through the floor at that point, and he wondered just how long it
was going to be until this ‘Grandpa imposter’ left. He did have
some serious homework. The countries involved in the 1990-something
treaty that made the European Union weren’t just going to magically
implant themselves into his cerebral cortex, unless Terrence
implanted that bit of information. Which he doubted. Jackson would
never do him a favor.

Grandpa shooed him in, smiled to Susanna, and
shut the door. As soon as Michael turned around to ask just who the
heck this fake grandfather was, he was greeted by the sight of
Charlotte standing there with a finger over her lips. She was
frantically shaking her head at him.

Luckily for Michael, he was stunned
speechless.

Charlotte cleared her throat, and when she
spoke, it was with Grandpa’s voice. Not just a girl’s imitation
voice, which sounds as much like a man as a dolphins sound like
helicopters. This was really Grandpa’s voice coming straight from
her throat.

“Well son, I know you’ve had a hard time of
seventh grade and all…”

She pulled up a flash card. It read, in big
black marker:
JUST TYPE ON YOUR COMPUTER
.

She went on. “I guess you’ve been sick
lately. That must be awful. Well, I called your teachers and they
told me that you’ve got to do some sort of report about the Twin
Towers.”

Michael sat down and started to type
furiously, until Charlotte tapped him on the shoulder.

This time a new card read: ANSWER ABOUT THE
HISTORY PROJECT!

“Uh…yeah. We’ve only got a few days to do it.
I…uh, I don’t know what I’m going to write about.”

On his computer he typed:
What
, erased
it, then
When did
, deleted that, and finally
what the
devil?

“Well,” she went on, perfectly in Grandpa’s
voice. “If you really want to know what it was like, you come and
talk to your old grandfather. Have I got stories to tell you.”

She held up a third card: I GOT OUT OF THE
TRAINING FACILITY TODAY. THIS IS MY ABILITY.

“You’re kidding!” Michael blurted before he
could stop himself.

“No sir,” Grandpa’s voice replied. Charlotte
gave him a stern glare. “I see you’re getting ready to start typing
your presentation. That’s great son.”

He typed
you don’t talk anything like him.
Mom’s going to come in any second.
Then he deleted it. When he
turned back, Charlotte wasn’t there anymore. It was Grandpa
again.

WE SERIOUSLY NEED TO TALK, the card read.

“So what angle do you think you’ll talk
about? The families of the deceased, or the Bush administration?
Something else?”

The next card read: WE NEED TO TALK. TONIGHT.
BEHIND THE LIBRARY.

No good
, he typed.
town ambulance
always parked there
.

“Well?” Grandpa asked.

“Sorry,” he said, “I haven’t had much time to
think about it.”

“Well, there were tons of people watching.
They watched the whole thing, just like your gramps.”

How do you know where my gramps was? he
typed. He said, “Really?”

She leaned over and typed
Pick a place and
time. You do your report on your own time
.

Duh, of course. She couldn’t waste time here.
If his mother was suspicious, she might already be calling Grandpa
now to see if he was at home, and then probably freak out and bust
in at any moment.

North side of the school, there’s a dark
area people don’t usually look at. Closer to Patterson
building.
This double conversation thing was straining his
brain. He couldn’t keep it up much longer without saying something
he should be typing, or the other way around.

“Really,” Grandpa finally said at last. “But
I got to let you get back to your work. You’ve got a busy night
ahead of you.”
Tonight at 12,
she typed. Grandpa typed.
Somebody typed it anyway.

Michael cleared the document on his computer
and stood up to show Grandpa Charlotte out. It was really strange
watching Grandpa move with the energy of a middle schooler. In a
way, this was much less real than his encounter with Mr.
Jackson.

There was no studying after that. Still, his
mother made him stare at his books and write things down. It was
just like being at school for the last number of days. He couldn’t
read, he couldn’t concentrate, he could barely deliver papers
without drooling and shrieking for a banana like a chimp. Winter
could be over and he would have no real idea.

He was getting to be an old hand at creeping
out of his house. Again, he took his bike, and again pedaled down
the lesser used little streets. His heart was thudding loudly in
his chest, but his fears were wasted. There were like three cops in
the whole town.

The area just north of LADCEMS was the only
scary place at the entire school. For whatever reason, it felt
neglected. Students didn’t leave school out the doors that way,
they didn’t hang out in that little patch of grass in between the
building and the fence that separated LADCEMS from Marcus
Patterson. Nobody had picnics there, but somehow there was always
more trash than anywhere else around the school. If there were
houses, their backyards would butt up against that fence, and you
could bet there’d be at least one nasty dog that would startle
people out of nowhere, barking and rattling the fence.

When Charlotte appeared as herself this time,
Michael almost squealed. He did rush up to her and throw his arms
around her. He backed off again pretty quick, burning with
embarrassment. He was glad nobody from school was here to see
them.

She’d been gone for so long he was starting
to wonder if he remembered her the right way. But no, she was the
same as before, which meant totally different. She had on thick
plastic glasses and her hair was cut real short. She almost looked
like a boy, with her tight black jeans and thick vest.

“Wait, let me guess,” he said. “The Rat
Catchers.”

She smiled. “You’ve probably never heard of
them. Weezer.”

“You get me every time. Like tonight. Whoa,
what the heck was that all about? You can, I mean, you’re a…whoa,
right?”

She grinned. “Tell you the truth, Michael, I
don’t really want it. So far the only thing it’s done for me is get
me in trouble and keep me away from my parents and my friends…well,
you.”

“So are you allowed to get back to school and
everything?”

She waved it off. “Listen, something’s wrong.
The people who had me under Patterson kept talking about it. They
didn’t think I heard, but I did.”

“WAIT A SECOND!”

“Shh! Could you be a little louder at our,
um, secret meeting?”

“You were Santa Claus weren’t you?” he
couldn’t help himself.

She grinned. “Okay yeah, that was fun, but
listen, we have to keep quiet. I’m not supposed to be out of the
house. I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong. The guards and the
doctors were talking about it.”

“Oh, I know all about what’s wrong.”

“Huh?” she seemed very surprised.

Michael told Charlotte everything in a rush.
It didn’t take long, after all. He wanted to make sure he told her
everything in case his brain was going to explode or he’d suddenly
get the urge to move to Idaho.

“So listen,” he said after it was all over.
“If I attack you or something, it’s not my fault. Mr. Jackson did
something to my head today.”

“I never liked that guy,” she said.

“You’d think a guy who could mess around with
your mind would have a million and one friends.”

“You’d think.”

“Ask people for all their money, or just walk
into a bank or something, and get everybody to fall asleep. Read
the bank manager’s mind and find the combination to the vault.”

Why wasn’t Terrence Jackson a rich evil
mastermind, come to think of it?

“Well, your grandfather believes in him,
otherwise he wouldn’t have hired him.”

“He’s lying low, waiting to change
everybody’s mind in town before he sets off a subconscious time
bomb.” He was proud that he could use that word in front of
Charlotte.

“Listen, we have to do something,” she
said.

Like what? Go to Terrence Jackson's house and
see if there was any evidence he was a villain? Get caught and
tortured again? Watch Charlotte get more of what he'd already
gotten? No way, no how.

“I don’t know…” Jackson was going to scramble
his brains in a frying pan and serve them up with ketchup. He
thought briefly of the card with Mr. Springfield’s name on it, and
then wondered if Jackson had messed with his mind already. Ugh,
with Jackson able to control everybody, there wasn’t anyone he
could trust.

“Don’t be afraid. He’s never going to find
out.” He said he’d know, Michael thought, but didn’t say.

“I’m not afraid.” He lied. He was afraid.
Only he couldn’t look weak in front of Charlotte. It wasn’t like he
was so strong and she was just a girl, but…it was just the rules.
You couldn’t be a weakling.

“Good, then there’s a teachers meeting on
Thursday. For the whole district. We have a half day, and the
teachers have to stay to do some training thing.” When she saw that
he had no idea where this was going, she explained. “We’re going to
sneak in and keep an eye on the teachers. Jackson’s going to be
there. All the teachers are going to be there, and like fifty or
sixty of them are Actives, Michael.”