by B D Grant
“I’m going to take Taylor northeast where the pecan trees are,” Uncle Will tells him.
“One of us should go with you,” Dillon says.
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Uncle Will tells him.
Ben smiles at Dillon. “Bet you twenty bucks Bryant and I get more than the three of you.”
“Ten,” Dillon counters.
“You scared you’ll lose?”
“No, you don’t have twenty bucks and I know it.”
Ben steps toward Dillon. “You think you’re big and bad but let me—”
Bryant pulls the back of Ben’s shirt. “We’re leaving before your mouth gets our hunting privileges taken away.”
I look at Uncle Will. He’s more amused than concerned with Ben’s sudden attitude. Bryant walks to the woods. Ben spends a few seconds scrutinizing Dillon before turning to follow him.
“I should have grabbed an extra vest,” Uncle Will says in regards to me not having any orange on. Uncle Will and Dillon both have orange vests on.
“Here,” Dillon says, taking his hunter orange hat off.
Uncle Will passes the hat to me. I slide Dillon’s hat on keeping my giddiness to myself. We start out with Uncle Will in the middle as we enter the tree line. We carefully navigate our way through the woods, being as silent as possible. Dillon ends up on my left and Uncle Will on my right. There’s plenty of bird activity but no squirrels.
I catch sight of a squirrel running up a tree to my right. I point at the tree. “There.”
I take the first shot and miss. Uncle Will takes the second shot, also misses. I look to Dillon, who hasn’t raised his rifle. He’s looking less then pleased with who he picked to hunt with. “We’re just warming up,” I tell him, offensively.
He shrugs. “I didn’t say anything.”
“And you’d better not,” Uncle Will says, lightheartedly.
“I have some ideas for tightening security… if you have some time later,” Dillon says to Uncle Will as we continue walking.
“I have time now.”
“Instead of doubling the security team, we change our perimeter points from four to three. Three bodies will be plenty if we move security positions so that each trio is at a corner where they can not only see down both sides, but will also have the backs of the two other teams on the connecting corners.”
“Less security will be a hard sell to my faculty.”
“That’s not what I’m recommending.”
“I heard you. More coverage with security being able to check on one another with visual confirmation is a good idea. I’m not a fan of relying primarily on verbal checks.”
“That only means less men outside. I think bringing in a few new faces would give us the continuous inside security we currently don’t have.”
“The idea is to not let anyone close enough to get inside.”
“I know that but I also know that when the worst case scenario happens, it usually goes down differently than foreseen.”
“If it goes down,” Uncle Will counters.
“We’re trained for worst case scenarios and we’ll be better prepared this way, is all I’m saying. I also think once students see the changes going on they’re going to get nervous.”
“And seeing a constant security presence inside will enforce the fact that they are safe,” Uncle Will finishes.
Dillon nods. “Students and faculty.”
“Visitors will like it too,” Uncle Will says with a furrowed brow.
I perk up, forgetting the squirrels. “What visitors?”
Dillon stares up at the trees so my question sits on Uncle Will’s shoulders to answer.
“We’re inviting parents to campus since we’re no longer allowing outside calls. One day only, where they get to spend time with their kids and see that the school is as safe as ever. Mitchell Lanton and your mother aren’t the only ones on the outside that know about the Rogues’ activity. It’s partly why I’m bringing in more security.”
“I thought the school’s location was suppose to be a secret from student’s family,” I say. This school is supposed to be my safe place. Having that tiny feeling of safety falling apart is unnerving.
“It is for the most part.”
“It’s either a secret or it isn’t.” I know all too well how secrets tend to fail. “Parents could be working with the Rogues,” I tell him. I want to ask him if there’s anyone that doesn’t know where this place is.
Dillon looks at Uncle Will too, waiting for a response. “Okay, Cassidy,” he says sarcastically. “Part of why I’m allowing parents in is to subject them to light questioning in order for them to gain access to the premises.”
“Who will be doing the questioning?” Dillon asks.
“Veritatis faculty.”
“I can help,” I volunteer.
“No,” Dillon and Uncle Will say in unison.
“How about the teachers who have kids at The Southern Academy.” Dillon offers. “They have more invested in keeping the school safe than anyone else and they’ll be thorough.”
“Maybe you should write all these suggestions down,” Uncle Will tells him.
“I can do that,” Dillon says.
Uncle Will chuckles, “I’m only joking.”
Something makes a loud crack ahead of us around thick undergrowth. We stop. Dillon and Uncle Will raise their guns. Uncle Will motions for me to get behind them. Dillon moves between me and the general location from where the noise came from. Uncle Will creeps farther to the right as Dillon walks toward it. A stick snaps when Dillon takes a step and an armadillo scurries out from the undergrowth.
They both look relieved. They check around the area just to be safe.
Uncle Will finally lowers his gun. “Thank goodness. I could hear Cassidy yelling at me about talking about the school’s business in the open.”
“Bryant and Ben should have stayed with us.”
“Oh, no,” Uncle Will disagrees, “small doses of them are plenty.”
“Bryant’s not bad,” I tell him.
“I am referring more to the other one,” Uncle Will says.
“Ben.”
“That’s the one.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him.
Dillon looks like he wants to agree with us but instead says, “He’s a good fighter.”
“And talker,” I add making both of them smile.
As Uncle Will guessed, the pecan and surrounding trees are crawling with squirrels. They are fast and after we let out a couple of shots the plethora of small rodents dwindles. When we throw in the towel it is evident who the best shot is. Dillon bagged four. Uncle Will and I managed to tie with two each.
“Eight,” Dillon announces as we meet Ben coming out of the woods. Bryant’s shortly behind him
“Woo! I’m ten dollars richer,” Ben says, waving six squirrels in the air.
“Ten all together,” Bryant calls out.
“How many squirrel nests did you shoot?” Uncle Will asks them.
Bryant’s brows pop up and he glances quickly at Ben before answering. “I didn’t shoot a one,” he says.
“Is he telling the truth?” Uncle Will asks me.
“Yup.”
“What kind of hunters do you take us for?” Ben asks.
“Answer the question,” Dillon tells him.
Ben looks me in the eye when he says, “None.”
It’s a lie. I’m not surprised. Bryant holds up three fingers behind him.
“We win,” Uncle Will declares proudly.
“You’re unbelievable,” Dillon tells Ben, bitterly.
“She didn’t say I was lying.”
“She didn’t have to,” Uncle Will says.
“There weren’t any rules,” he protests.
“It’s called sportsmanship,” Dillon retorts.
“I told him the same thing,” Bryant says.
Ben throws up his hand indignantly saying, “Fine, you win. But I’m not cleaning them.�
��
“Everyone cleans squirrels,” Uncle Will says, putting his foot down.
Bryant’s grinning, enjoying every minute of this.
“I’ll clean mine,” Ben says. “But that’s it.”
“I know you’re not acting like this,” Dillon says, under his breath wiping his forehead with his forearm.
Ben looks at Dillon out the corner of his eye then turns for the faculty housing. “I know I killed more than anyone.”
8
K. Post pool party
When I get to my room, Boston is sitting on my bed talking to Mick. “Did you say thanks for the invite?” He’s asking Mick as he laughs.
Mick throws a pillow at Boston barking, “What do you think? She’s lucky I didn’t give her a piece of my mind.” Boston takes the pillow obligingly and stuffs it behind him to lean on.
“What are you two talking about?”
Mick gets off his bed and goes to his desk, taking out a notebook.
With Mick refusing to answer, Boston steps up. “Mick found out who invited him to the party and he’s being totally ungrateful.”
“I have no reason to be grateful,” Mick says, taking out a pencil then slamming the drawer closed. “I would’ve gotten to go on Kelly’s invite. I’m telling you, that witch invited me just to make me mad.”
Boston rests his hands behind his head looking more comfortable on that lumpy bed than I’ve ever managed. “She’s got some good-looking legs for a witch.”
“Anyone going to fill me in on who we’re talking about?”
Boston looks at Mick’s back. When he decides Mick isn’t going to, he answers. “Jessica.”
“Whoa, whoa, back up. Why would Jessica invite him when they can’t stand each other?”
“She’s not the one with hard feelings,” Boston explains. “She told Zoey at the party that she thought Mick was ‘looking super cute,’” Boston makes bunny ears in the air with his fingers to signify that he’s quoting. “And that’s when she told Zoey how happy she was that he accepted her invitation.”
I get undressed and head for the shower, mulling it over. “She broke up with you, right?” I ask Mick, on the way to bathroom.
He continues drawing in the notebook. Boston sits up, tossing the pillow on Mick’s bed saying, “Darn right she did and I think she regrets breaking his delicate little heart.”
“That’s it!” Mick slams his notebook closed and pushes his chair back. “Get out,” he says, descending on Boston. “I don’t want to hear your voice another second.”
Boston jumps up. He heads to the door with a hand up in defeat. “I’ll go, chill. It’s my bedtime anyway.” He opens the door as he looks at me across the room. “Kelly, you better watch out. He’s extra sensitive tonight.” He quickly closes the door behind himself as the pencil Mick had in his hand goes sailing across the room. It bounces off the door with a sharp ‘tonk’.
I waste no time getting in the bathroom and securing the door. I know he keeps a half dozen sharpened pencils in his desk.
The next day at lunch, Glensy stops by our table. “Did you boys hear the news?”
I’m the only one out of Boston, Mick, and myself that doesn’t have a mouth full of spaghetti. “No, what?”
“Howard wasn’t in any of his classes. That lucky duck got early placement.”
“Welp, if all you have to do is aggravate the teachers, I should be out of here in no time,” I tell him with a smile.
“Nah, you haven’t even come close,” Glensy surveys the cafeteria. “Watch this,” he spills some of his water on the floor as a teacher walks up, unaware of the puddle.
He steps right in it. “What the…?”
Glensy steps back making a face as if he smells something foul. “Eww, you should be more careful. A stage one just wet himself right there.”
The teacher looks horrified. He quickly steps out of the puddle of water and trots to the bathroom, calling for someone to clean it up. Glensy laughs all the way to his table.
“I’ve always liked him,” Boston says, in admiration watching him walk away.
“He’s not too bad. He’s just got bad taste in friends,” I say, looking at Mase sitting next to Glensy eating.
Boston glances mischievously at Mick, “believe it or not; Mick here was good friends with Mase too, once upon a time.”
Mick glares at him. “I thought you didn’t want to be on my bad side today,” he fumes.
“I don’t,” Boston tells him.
Mick glares at me next but turns his focus back to his plate. Boston leans forward and in a quiet voice tells me, “Mick and Mase stopped hanging out when Jessica broke up with him and started dating Mase. She didn’t date Mase very long, but they haven’t been friends ever since.”
I’m still thinking about Jessica ditching Mick, who I would bet makes a decent boyfriend, for a big turd like Mase when I walk into the locker room to get dressed for football. Mick and Mase have totally different personalities for one. Although, Jessica with Mase I can kind of understand. They are strong, stubborn, and good-looking not that Mick isn’t an attractive guy. However, as far as strength is concerned she could beat Mick at an arm wrestling contest, easy.
Mick is already dressed and closing his locker when I join him. He sits down on the bench in front of the lockers. He looks up at me. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got a confused look on your face,” he says.
I put my stuff in the locker and slowly pull my shirt over my head to have time to think of a response.
“I, uh, was thinking about the whole... early placement thing.”
He seems to buy it. He ties his cleats then stands up. “You don’t have to worry about getting early placement.”
“What are you trying to say?” I ask, acting offended.
“No, no. I know you’re a good Dynamar, but Dynamar rarely get out early. Even those with connected parents don’t get out early unless something big comes up and they’re scrambling for man power.”
“You’re right then,” I say, thinking about my lack of parents. “I really won’t get out of here any time soon.”
Mick shrugs, leaning against the lockers while I finish getting ready. “Some people in class were saying that Howard was only getting a couple days out because his parents came in to see him. So, that would mean even Mr. Hotshot didn’t get an early placement job.”
“Oh.”
Howard gets loving parents who want to spend time with him and I’m stuck here with no one. How is that fair? As we head out onto the field, I’m secretly hoping someone’s padding cuts me again so I’ll have a reason to give someone an extra hard pummeling.
The envy I feel for Howard getting to visit his family fades as days of his absence turns into weeks. It looks like Glensy got it right. Howard isn’t the only one that reaped benefits from competition day. At the next team meeting, Evan informs us that Jessica got promoted to a stage three team, leaving me as the only stage three stuck with underclassmen.
“Her parents probably threw a fit until they moved her up,” Mick tells me that night in our room while we are working on homework at our desks. “They’ve been mad about her being behind since everyone but her was moved to full stage three status.”
“So, because I don’t have someone to fight for me, I’ll be stuck with half of my classes with little kids?” I open the top drawer of my desk and chunk one of my books in it before slamming it shut. I don’t know why I even try to study this crap if it isn’t even going to get me anywhere.
“Calm down,” Mick says, turning around to face me.
I feel him doing his Tempero thing on me. I’m on the verge of calming down, but then I think about how I’m looked at as a weak Dynamar by almost everyone here. I’m on a stage two ability advancing team, even in some of their regular classes, and how Mase puts it I’m a panty waste that can’t go up a steep hill. All together I’m weak AND dumb by this places standards.
Mick stands up behind me. In a stern voice he asks, “W
hat are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I growl. “I’m sitting here.”
“No. I can feel you… fighting me.”
“What are you talking about?” I rest my elbows on the desk and bury my face in my hands. My anger is cultivating with every word out of his mouth. If I deck him I’ll regret it and get in trouble. I don’t need to get into more trouble.
I keep my face in my hands listening to Mick move to his bed and lay down. A short while later, I’m back to normal. I change, turn off the light, and get into bed trying not to think of anything that could set me off.
Lena’s been nicer to me lately. Or at least she and Abby don’t completely ignore me when I walk by. The day after the pool party, Lena even replied when I asked her how her day was going. Maybe Glensy put in a good word for me. Mick drives me from my thoughts. “How did you do it?”
The images of Lena disappear. “Ah hell, I thought you were asleep.”
“I was waiting for you to chill out.”
I feign ignorance, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about how you can stop me from cooling your temper. I don’t think that should be possible. I know something like that shouldn’t be possible.”
I think about it for a minute. “I can’t stand being messed with like that. When Temperos are doing stuff to my head it makes me want to get angry just to prove that I can. It’s like, a violation of my basic rights.”
“I didn’t pay much attention when we learned about our civil rights but I’m pretty sure there was nothing about having the right to get D’d in the Constitutional rights.”
“It doesn’t feel natural to me. It’s as simple as that.”
Mick moves around in his bed. I can’t see him but I know he when speaks that he’s facing me now. “I know when we first started practicing on each other as Stage Ones it was easy to tell when someone was trying to make me feel something other than what I was already feeling; but as everyone got better, it became harder to tell the difference. Can you feel it when every Tempero is working on you or just when I am?”
