“It’s Milo’s crystal, Mrs. Owlidge. I saw Gregory take it.”
The voice had come from Jocelyn Cary, a pretty girl with long, straight hair the color of wheat, who sat a few desks away from Milo in his language arts class. She had been watching them from the top of the stairs.
Mrs. Owlidge peered at her, as if she didn’t quite believe anything anyone had to tell her, because the situation was just too strange. “You saw this?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Owlidge sighed and looked at her watch again. “Here, Milo,” she said, giving him the darkened crystal. “Don’t bring this to school again or I’ll confiscate it.”
She spun Gregory around and led him toward the school. Gregory looked back over his shoulder at Milo, his expression one of seething rage.
Milo looked over at Jocelyn, about to say thanks, but the girl had joined two of her friends in walking toward the school’s side entrance. She glanced back at Milo much as Gregory had done, but her expression was one of curiosity. Like she wasn’t sure what to make of him.
Once they were gone, and everything was normal again, Milo studied the crystal. The light in its core had gone out, which meant the crystal was no longer carrying a charge. Maybe he should keep it that way, in case anyone else got hold of it.
He remembered his father’s words.
Keep it with you… keep it charged…
Milo shook his head and slipped the crystal back into his pocket. It was just a story. All of it, just a make-believe fantasy meant to keep his mind off the reality of how eccentric his family had become. Besides, if the crystal was really meant to protect him, surely the enemies his father had in mind—if the stories were true, of course—were much scarier than a stupid bully and his idiot cronies.
Milo spent the rest of the day musing about yet another strange thing in his life. Not crystals or mythic figures or magic, but something that was, in many ways, far stranger.
Girls.
One, in particular.
Why had Jocelyn helped him earlier? What did it mean?
When the final bell rang—finally!—at 2:30, Milo rushed to his locker. He tossed everything from his backpack inside and closed the door without taking out the books he would need for his homework. His mind was as scattered as a bag of pellets spilled all over the floor.
He turned from his locker, and there she was. Milo tried to ignore a tiny voice in his head that squeaked out, Quick, get away!
Jocelyn didn’t see him at first. She was walking down the hallway with a friend. Milo could have escaped, but how rude would that look if she noticed? Especially after she had risked Gregory’s wrath by standing up for him. He took in a lungful of air and made eye contact. Jocelyn grinned happily when she saw him.
Her friend noticed the exchange. She gave an embarrassed smile and said, “See you later,” to Jocelyn before disappearing down another hallway.
“Hi, Milo,” Jocelyn said with an awkward half-wave.
“Hey, Jocelyn,” Milo said, meaning to wave but finding his hand stuck in his pocket. Unknowingly, he had wrapped his fingers around the crystal. He loosed his fist and slipped his hand out, then stupidly gave Jocelyn a thumbs-up. “Thanks again for, um…”
“Saving your ass back there?”
Milo chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I guess.”
They walked side by side.
“What was that thing, anyway?” Jocelyn said. “That weird stone you were holding.”
“It’s just a—well, it’s like a good luck charm, or maybe a mood rock, that my dad gave me.”
“A mood rock? Real emo.”
Milo’s face warmed. “It means a lot to me. My dad, you know—he travels a lot.”
“Mine, too!” Jocelyn beamed at him, as if she had been waiting for a connection to form between them. Milo relaxed a little.
“What does your dad do?” he asked.
“He’s an Oracle consultant.”
“Oracle?” Milo’s mind filled with images of ancient figures in robes gazing over stones that could see the future. “You mean, like…”
“It’s some sort of corporation, like Microsoft. He does implementations for companies.”
“Oh. Like installing software.”
She frowned a little. Milo gritted his teeth in self-loathing. Could he be anymore condescending?
“That’s really cool,” he said. “You have to be so smart to do that kind of work.”
“Yeah, my dad’s sort of a genius. That’s what my mom says, anyway. Except she always looks sad when she says it. Anyway, can I see it?”
“See what?” Milo said, caught off-guard.
“The crystal. I got it back for you. Least you can do is show it to me.”
“I don’t think so. It’s very—fragile.”
They were approaching the exit now. The broad front doors were open to a burst of sunlight. Milo suddenly wanted to be free of this forced, awkward social interaction.
“I’m a girl, you dummy,” Jocelyn said defiantly. “I handle fragile things all the time. What are you so worried about?”
A warm wind hit them once they stepped outside. In the sunlight, Jocelyn’s blonde hair and sparkling green eyes were mesmerizing. What was a beautiful girl like her doing with a shrimp like Milo? Even more importantly, should he ask her out on a date? Wasn’t that what a guy should do in this situation?
For the millionth time in his life, Milo wished he were tall and handsome, like his dad.
“Well, so long,” she said, turning away from him, obviously annoyed.
A feeling of loss soared inside Milo’s chest. He considered giving her the crystal as a gift. Here! Take it! Just don’t walk away!
“Jocelyn, wait. You can hold it if you want.”
She spun around, grinning at him. Milo felt a bit manipulated. Looking at her eyes, he realized it didn’t bother him one bit. She was beautiful.
“Let me see it!”
He handed it over. The crystal was still dark from a lack of charge. Jocelyn looked at it for about three seconds before letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Not like any mood rock I’ve ever seen,” she said, handing it back to him. “Aren’t they supposed to change color or something? Anyway, I’m glad I could help you get it back. It seems to mean a lot to you. Will you walk me to the bus?”
Having pocketed the crystal, Milo stood fidgeting with the straps on his backpack, trying to process what she had just asked of him. “The bus?” he said. “Sure. Which one do you take?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
He followed her out behind the school.
“It’s such a nice day out,” Jocelyn said.
Milo was too lost in thought to respond. Jocelyn was a whole year older than him, which made the situation even more confusing. Was she hoping he would ask her out? Did she like him? Was such a thing even possible?
“I was thinking,” she said. “You’re really smart, right? Wait, don’t answer that. Of course you are. You skipped the eighth grade.”
“Something like that,” he said and shrugged.
“How good are you at math?”
Milo’s confidence rose at that. “Pretty good. I taught myself calculus last summer. They even put me in an advanced class with Mr. Nevensett that only has three students—”
“Wow, really? That’s awesome! Anyway, I told my mom about you, and she suggested… Well, the thing is, I absolutely suck at math…”
Realization dawned on Milo, along with a sinking feeling in his gut. She needed help with math. Of course. Why else would a girl like Jocelyn Cary…
Something drew Milo’s attention as he and Jocelyn turned a corner into the parking lot behind the school. A shadow seemed to move near the opposite edge of the building, as if someone had slipped around the corner at the last second. Milo stopped. He put his hand on Jocelyn’s arm to stop her as well.
“So you’ll do it?” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just that…”
“Hold on a sec.”
Milo put his hand in his pocket. He thought about rubbing a charge back into the crystal. But if he did that, Gregory would only want it more. There was something addictive about its mysterious green energy that made it dangerous to keep it charged.
Or maybe the danger was in keeping it uncharged.
“Oh, crap,” Milo said. “It’s him.”
Gregory turned the corner into the lot. He made his way toward them with forceful strides, as if he intended to smash through any walls that might drop between them. Nothing would stop him now. Jimbo and Tucker appeared a moment later and tried to catch up. Jocelyn moved closer to Milo until their shoulders were touching.
“You think he wants the crystal?” she said.
“I don’t know. Maybe you should go. He might still be mad at you.”
“No way. I won’t let them bully you just because you’re younger.”
“Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t notice how he kept swallowing nervously. His mouth had gone dry, and he felt a shiver run down his back. He reached into his pocket and began to charge the crystal. He was hearing his father’s voice again.
Keep it charged…
“You’re brave,” Jocelyn said, backing away. “He looks pretty angry.”
She gave Milo one last hopeful look and turned to leave. Gregory broke into a sprint toward her.
But why her? Shouldn’t Milo have been his intended target?
He stepped into Gregory’s path. A brave move, though all courage drained from him as Gregory’s hulking mass filled his vision. In the world known as Astros that his father had told him about, Gregory would definitely have been a Sargonaut.
A meaty fist rose to cave Milo’s face in.
Then a strange thing happened.
Milo’s vision swam. He felt wind surge around his body, mainly his hands. He held them up to deflect Gregory’s fist. As if thrown, the wind slammed into the bigger boy, stunning him. He stood, blinking at his surroundings.
“What the hell was that?”
Milo lowered his hands. His vision went back to normal, just in time to watch Gregory take hold of his shoulders and toss him backward.
“Weirdo!”
Milo hit the pavement with enough force to crush the air from his lungs. It was only the third week of school, and he’d already been knocked down twice. Terrific.
But what was that strange thing with the wind? Had it come from him?
His attention went back to the situation at hand. Gregory had grabbed Jocelyn by the shoulders and pinned her to the brick wall. Milo dropped his backpack and ran toward her.
“Hold him,” Gregory said, keeping his eyes on Jocelyn.
Hands grabbed Milo from behind and pulled him back. Jimbo and Tucker. He struggled to break free, but he wasn’t strong enough. He could feel the two idiots breathing down his neck and snorting laughter at him, their fingers digging into the flesh of his arms.
“The crystal,” Gregory said, grunting with effort as he tried to keep Jocelyn from squirming out of his grasp. “Give it to me or I’ll hit her.”
“You wouldn’t hit a girl,” Jocelyn cried out.
“Wait,” Milo said. “She has to catch her bus. If she’s not on it, they’ll come looking for her, and you’ll get in trouble. So just let her go.”
There was a mad look in Gregory’s eyes. The crystal had changed him; he was no longer a mischievous bully but a hunter on a mission.
“The rock,” he said. “Toss it over, or I’ll find your twin sister, and I’ll hit her, too. I’ll hit her so hard you’ll feel it.”
“It’s in my pocket,” Milo said, trying to remain calm even as he pictured Gregory hitting Emma. His fear turned to hot rage. “I can’t reach it like this.”
Jimbo—or was it Tucker?—reached into his pocket, took out the glowing crystal, and tossed it over. Gregory tried to catch it but missed. The crystal bounced off the bricks and landed by his feet.
Gregory let go of Jocelyn and bent over to pick it up. Jocelyn kicked him in the rear, sending him sprawling face-first into the pavement. Jimbo and Tucker doubled over with laughter.
“Run,” Milo told Jocelyn. She gave him one last look of despair and fled, not even bothering to pick up her backpack.
Milo watched her go. Before he had a chance to react, a rock-hard fist crashed into his stomach. Sky and earth flipped as he fell, twisting, to the ground.
He tried to ignore the pain. The crystal was only a few feet away. He reached for it, coughing and sputtering as he crawled. He was only a moment away from grabbing it when Gregory dropped like a sack of potatoes onto his lower back.
Milo’s lungs were emptied once more. His ribcage was being crushed, and if that wasn’t bad enough, Gregory had started driving his fists into Milo’s shoulders.
“You—little—punk!” he shouted, punching away like a madman.
Gasping for breath, Milo reached for the crystal. It was hopeless. His arms were too short. If only he were a few inches closer…
Gregory sprang off Milo’s back and towered over him. Milo made a desperate lunge for his prize. Gregory was quicker. He brought his foot down on Milo’s fingers and twisted like he was trying to kill a cockroach. Milo let out a cry of agony and retracted his hand. Gregory chuckled as he bent over to pick up the crystal.
“Poor little Milo Banks,” he said. “Milo’s a dog’s name; did you know that? Figures, since you’re a little…”
“A little what?” a man’s voice said.
A shadow stretched over the pavement. Gregory, Jimbo, and Tucker—none of them laughing now—stared up at the man looming over them.
“I believe you have something that belongs to my son.”
Maxwell Banks stood with his hands on his hips, his face dark as his head blocked the sun. Milo pushed himself off the pavement and backed away. Standing perfectly still, his father looked more like a statue than a man, carved from pure stone.
“I—I just wanted to look at it,” Gregory said, a mixture of fear and fascination on his face as he looked up at Max. “I was going to give it back.”
“Give it here, kid. And I don’t want to see any of you boys near my son again, you understand?”
Gregory looked away, cheeks rippling as he clenched his teeth. Jimbo and Tucker looked sullen. They seemed to be avoiding Max’s gaze. Milo stole a glance toward the buses to see how many students—including Jocelyn—had witnessed this embarrassing scene.
First, he had needed a girl to stand up for him. Now, he needed his father to rescue him.
What next? Would he need his mother to get his stolen lunch back tomorrow? Would Emma have to come and save him at some point, too?
“Get out of here,” Max said, whisking the air with his right hand.
Gregory gave Milo a sour look before leaving. Jimbo and Tucker shook their heads at Milo in disappointment. The looks were silent promises. This was only the beginning. The bullying and the humiliation would only get worse from here on out. His father had seen to that.
Welcome to Dearborn High.
“You okay?” his father said when they were finally alone.
“You didn’t have to do that, Dad. Now everyone’s going to think I don’t have the guts to stand up for myself.”
Max put a hand on his son’s shoulder and handed over the crystal. It was only half charged. “But you stood up for that girl. That took more guts than anything else.”
An engine growled. Milo watched the bus drive away. Jocelyn was watching him through the window.
No, not watching him, exactly. She was holding up her phone, aiming its camera lens at him, and staring at its screen. Had she recorded the fight? Would she use it to get Gregory in trouble? Or was she planning on uploading it to YouTube, so the world could see Milo for the wimp that he truly was?
“Forget about them,” his father said
. “It gets easier, you know.”
“What would you know about it?” Milo grumbled as he went over to pick up his backpack. He picked up Jocelyn’s as well, so he could give it to her the next day, maybe trade it for a promise that she wouldn’t show anyone the video she had just recorded.
“Let’s get home,” his dad said. “Practice some basketball. You’re still joining the team, right?”
Milo shook his head. “It’s pointless.”
“Come on, now. Don’t be that way.”
“Just stop, Dad. Seriously, it’s my life.” They headed toward the minivan. Seeing the vehicle, Milo realized something was different from the usual routine. “What are you doing here, anyway? Usually Mom picks me up.”
“I thought I’d give her a break today, since I’m back from my trip and all.”
“Then why’d you bring the van and not your Ford?”
His father shrugged. Apparently, he had no answer to that.
Because you were watching me, Milo wanted to say.
He kept his mouth shut, and they drove home mostly in silence.
CHAPTER 13
O f all earthly places, the stone took them to a school for children.
It was better than nothing; for the past week, Coscoros had been forced to stand and watch each night as Querrigan scrolled through endless images of ordinary humans going about their boring lives. Finally, they had found another clue.
No, not a clue: a breakthrough.
“It’s another spell,” Querrigan said. “This is it.”
Coscoros tried to make sense of what was happening inside the stone. “Do you think it came from them?”
He pointed at what looked like a group of boys fighting over a girl in the back parking lot. The quality was poor, as if they were watching events taking place at the bottom of a shallow river. It had gotten worse since they had pinpointed the school’s location.
“That’s them,” Querrigan said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Look at the ripples over the smallest boy. That tells me he was the caster. But to do so without… And for a boy his age…” He lowered his hands and shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense, unless…”
His voice drifted away as he became entranced by the stone.
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