Wyvern and Company (6 page)

"Steak and lobster?" Dad quirked an eyebrow at Mack.
"With spaghetti?"

"Oh, yeah," Mack nodded. Maybe it was my imagination,
but his appetite appeared to be increasing, lately. Maybe it was stress eating,
but what did I know?

"We'll leave in an hour—since it's Friday night, the wait
will be less if we go early," Mom said.

"Suits me," Mack grinned.

Chapter 4
 

Justin's Journal

There was a wait at the restaurant anyway—Giorgio's was always
super busy on Friday and Saturday nights. What surprised me was who waited on
us after we were seated—one of our high school classmates, Gina Allen.

"Gina?" I blinked at her when she showed up at our
table in the standard Giorgio's uniform of red, monogrammed polo and black
slacks.

"Hey, Justin, how are you?" she smiled at me.

Yeah, my heart rate went up several notches. Not only was Gina
pretty, she was smart, too. She was in my English and calculus classes, but we
seldom talked—I wasn't sure why, because she was so interesting. Truthfully, I
was surprised she knew my name.

"I'm good," I said.

"Hi, Mack," Gina nodded to him, too. "Are you
okay?"

"I'm fine," Mack dropped his eyes.

"Look, those kids at school are morons," Gina said. "Don't
pay any attention to them."

"Easier said than done," Mack said, but at least he
was looking at her, now.

"I know. Just remember they have little sympathy and
fewer brain cells," she said. "What can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a Dr. Pepper," Mack said immediately, and
things went back to normal. Sort of.

Dinner was great; Mack ate a huge plate of food, Gina was the
best waitress ever and at the end, she handed me a slip of paper with her phone
number on it.

I had no idea how hard it would be to act cool instead of like
an idiot when that happened. I thought Uncle Lion's grin might outshine the sun
as we walked out the door.

I do know that Dad gave Gina a huge tip. She deserved it,
after waiting on a table with eight people—Joey and Karzac were with us, too.

"You dog," Mack elbowed me before I could climb into
the back seat of Dad's SUV. We'd been forced to bring both vehicles in order to
haul all of us.

"Not a dog," I claimed, tapping my chest. "She
made the move, man."

"You didn't push back. I've seen you push Marilee back a
hundred times."

"Dude, I didn't want Marilee."

"That's fine. More for me," Mack sat back on his
half of the seat, a smug expression on his face.

"Marilee is still in the hospital," Dad pointed out
as he started the engine. "Things may never be the same with her, Mack."

"Yeah. I know." Mack sighed and stared out the
window.

"Honey, don't worry. Things will work out," Mom swiveled
in her seat to talk to Mack.

"I sure hope so," he mumbled.

We drove past the exit to get to our house and went even
farther east. I hadn't bothered to ask Mom and Dad where the new house was, so
I was about to find out.

Mack and I stared as a tall, arched metal gate swung open when
Dad hit the button on a remote. We drove past and the gate closed behind us.
The gate turned out to be the least amazing thing there—a three-story house
waited, and it looked like something out of a picture book.

It had peaked roofs, two turrets, two chimneys and was built
of pale, gray stone. There wasn't anything else like it in Fresno. "This
is ours?" I breathed as I took it in—a four-car garage was attached to one
end, and a connected circle drive bordered the front of the house.

"The guesthouse is behind this one," Mom explained
as Dad stopped the car and Mack and I tumbled out of the back seat.

"Can we go in?" I asked. Yeah, I couldn't take my
eyes off it. It was new, and yet it felt familiar in some way.

"We have keys and a security code," Dad grinned. I'd
never seen him this excited about anything before, and he'd built a ton of
houses and businesses.

Double doors led into the house, and a wide, tiled entryway
lay beyond that, with a double staircase on both sides, going upward to the
second floor.

"Dude," Mack mumbled in awe as we walked inside.

The rest of the house was just as amazing, from the huge
kitchen to the dining room and the bedrooms upstairs. Dad had a bigger study
and the family room was enormous. The biggest surprise lay at the back of the
house—an indoor pool.

"I can't wait to get in that," Mack breathed. The
water was clear; with the pool lights on, I could see the bottom of the pool. A
filter hummed somewhere, keeping the water circulating and clean. I couldn't
wait to get in it, either.

"Next week," Mom said. "We have a few things
left to do, but it's ours."

"What's left?" I turned to Dad.

"Some electrical and plumbing, plus a few things on the
third floor. It'll be done by Monday, I think, so we can move in sometime after
that."

"Do we need to pack?" I asked.

"We have movers coming—it'll happen in one day," Mom
said. "I hope it's done by the time you get home from school on Thursday.
We'll drive over and make sure everything is where you want it."

"Are we going to the football game next Friday?" I
asked. I had mixed feelings about it; Mom, Dad and Mack were usually there, but
I'd always been on the field while they watched from the bleachers.

"I think we ought to go," Dad confirmed.

"Okay." I shrugged. "Mack?" I turned to
him—he might not want to go, and I wouldn't blame him if he didn't. The thing
was, they'd planned the memorial service before the game, and I felt I needed
to pay my respects at least, by being there for my teammates who'd died.

"If you're going, then I'll go," Mack decided.

"Good. I wanted to get the move done before that,"
Dad said. "Ready to get your car and go home?"

"I guess. I really like this place," I added. "It
feels like home." Dad ruffled my hair and headed toward the front door.

* * *

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but still it made me so
angry I could have hit something. My Honda was covered in eggs and multiple
colors of spray paint. "Dude, it looks like the Easter bunny dropped his
load on it," Mack muttered.

It did. Dad held onto Mom as they surveyed the damage. The
last insult? All four tires had been slashed. "We'll get it taken care of,"
Dad said and pulled out his cell to call a towing service.

"Three guesses who did this," Mack growled. Yeah, it
was a good growl—one I wished I could make. Dad talked to the tow service about
picking up my car, and told them it would have to be hauled—it couldn't be
driven anywhere with four flat tires.

"Trouble?" Joey drove up in Mom's Jeep—he'd dropped
the others off at the house, looked like.

"Take Kiarra and the boys home; I'll wait for the tow
truck," Dad said.

"I'll let Justin drive; I'll stay with you," Joey
suggested.

"Fine. Justin," Dad jerked his head toward the Jeep.

"Thanks," I nodded to Joey.

"It's time for another car," Joey shook his head at
my Honda.

"I think I need a tank or the bat mobile," I
muttered.

* * *

I understood completely why Dad didn't want the police
involved in the vandalism of my car. After all, one of them almost killed
Mack—indirectly, of course. Still, it was a crime and somebody ought to pay for
the damage.

I had a good guess who should do that, but felt powerless to
do anything about it. I'd probably get thrown in jail if I went after Randall
Pierce, and there's no telling what would happen to me after that.

"Sometimes we have to let the small things go, to
preserve the greater good," Mom said, sliding a plate of brownies toward
Mack and me. We'd sat at the kitchen island after we got home, but I was mad
and depressed at the same time.

"My car is a small thing?" I blinked at her.

"Honey, I know it's a big thing to you, but you have to
remember what started all this. Those monsters may still be out there, just
waiting to attack again. Randall Pierce is trying to get revenge against innocents,
when he has no idea how to combat the guilty. His father, on the other hand,
failed to do his job. That was intentional. Whatever punishment he gets, he
will deserve. Does that make any sense?"

"You're saying he can't blame his dad, so he's taking it
out on us?" Mack said.

"In a way. He lost friends, too, in that attack, so he's
going after the only survivor, plus the survivor's best friend. He hasn't
realized yet that doing so will not solve his problems. He only feels the need
to lash out at something or someone. He hasn't thought it through well enough
to discover how his emotions are manipulating him. He may end up in deep
trouble over it, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's messed up," Mack grumped before reaching for
a brownie.

"Want milk?" Mom asked.

"Yeah."

* * *

My car was towed to the new house and left there; I couldn't
drive it anyway, so Dad said I could borrow Mom's Jeep. I hoped Randall wouldn't
recognize it when I drove it to school on Monday.

The rest of the weekend was quiet—Mack and I played Joey's
video game—it was in three-D and it felt real as we made our way past warriors
and obstacles to get to the prize at the end.

It wasn't easy, either, but it was fun. Joey had done a great
job, but he still insisted it had a few bugs and intended to work on those. I
liked it and failed to understand what it was he wanted to tweak. Grudgingly,
we stopped playing it Sunday afternoon to work on an English assignment.

Mack and I dreaded going to school on Monday, although his dad
said he'd come to the house after school to see Mack—he was finishing the job
in Visalia and should be back in town by then.

Mack stood for a few seconds outside Mom's Jeep in the school
parking lot, steeling himself to walk into the building.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Come on, we'll
be late."

Mack followed me into the building, where things hadn't
changed much. I ignored Randall, Todd and the others as we walked past them,
until Randall asked about my car. My temper was white-hot when I whirled to
face him.

No, I'd never threatened anyone before—hadn't really needed
to. I stalked angrily toward Randall Pierce, who took one look at me before
turning and almost running down the hall, the noise they made sounding as if a
small herd of buffalo trampled their way across the tiles. Several people poked
their heads out of classroom doors to see what was going on as a result.

"Wow," Mack breathed as he watched Randall and his
friends scoot away. "Why didn't we know before how easy that might be?"

I had to shake myself to get rid of the rage that threatened
to overcome me. "Man, that was close," I muttered. I doubted Mom and
Dad would understand if I got expelled from school for fighting, even if the
fight was with the jerk who'd vandalized my car.

"Justin?" Gina Allen came up beside me and took my
arm. "We'll be late for class if you don't come now," she said and
led me away. Mack wore a bemused expression as he followed us to English class.

* * *

Mack and I ended up having lunch with Gina—plus several
others. I couldn't have predicted that—no way. Mack was just as surprised as I that
he had supporters in school; we'd thought all of them were against us.

I guess not everybody swallowed what Randall Pierce was dishing;
some of them thought for themselves. Tactfully, nobody asked Mack about what
happened at Shaver Lake, and it would have upset him to talk about it anyway.

Someday, he might get to a point where he could, but he'd
witnessed a lot of murders before running away. His recollection of running
away wasn't exactly logical or sane-sounding on top of everything else, so I
was grateful nobody asked.

"Look, it's Goober Griffin, and he's got an army. A
really ugly, geeky army," Randall stopped by our table. Yes, he'd waited
until we were in the cafeteria and watched closely by several teachers to do
his digging. At least he was attacking me, now, instead of Mack.

The problem, of course, is that some of those teachers watching
from the sidelines might agree with Randall and ignore his bullying. I hated to
think that, but worried that it might be true.

"Look, it's Ratface Randall, whose grades will probably
get him off the football team faster than he got on it," I snapped,
standing up to defend us.

"I second that," Gina rose beside me.

"Yeah. Me, too," Mack stood. His words, however,
definitely contained a growl. I'd have to figure out how he did that—it was
becoming seriously cool.

The rest of our lunch table rose to show their solidarity.
Randall, Todd and the other bullies decided to leave. For once, we actually
outnumbered him and his horde.

"You know he'll try to get back at us—again," Mack
said, shaking his head before sitting down to finish lunch.

"That's guaranteed," I sighed.

"Don't worry about him, he's a jerk," Gina said,
taking her seat at my side.

"Oh, he's more than just a jerk," I said. "He's
a stupid jerk. Feckless. Moronic. Ineffective. Unproductive. Injudicious."

"I'd add dense and slow to that list," Mack said. "He
doesn't understand multi-syllable words, you know."

Gina laughed. It sounded amazing and was just what we needed
to hear.

"If my mom's Jeep is in one piece after school, want a
ride home?" I asked Gina as we headed toward calculus class after lunch.

"Yeah. I'll let Mom know she doesn't have to pick me up
today." Her eyes shone and she giggled—she was excited to be riding with
me. For the first time in my life, I considered that I might have a steady girlfriend.

* * *

Sure, I should have thought twice about stopping at the local
hangout for a soda, but hey—it was expected if you had a girl. Besides, Mack
was all for it—he wanted a Dr. Pepper.

We pulled in and placed our order at the kiosk. That went just
fine. What didn't go fine was the four who waited at the end of the
drive-through, blocking our way. Randall and his horde had eggs, paint and a
baseball bat with them.

Honking did no good at all. They approached the front of Mom's
Jeep. Eggs and paint flew while Randall took his frustrations out on the
vehicle. Gina cowered in the front passenger seat as rocks joined the eggs and
both headlights were broken by the bat. A hailstorm might have competed with
the noise of the pelting rocks and eggs as they pounded the metal vehicle with
regularity.