Shards

by F. J. R. Titchenell

  The sign out front read:

  PROSPERO HIGH SCHOOL

  HOME OF THE POETS

  Under it, instead of a man in a ruff and feathered hat or some other vaguely recognizable visual representation of a poet, there was an emblem featuring half a theatrical tragedy mask, spewing a jet of flame from its mouth to fill the space where its other half should have been.

  Something told me that Alexei Smith, the very Splintery drama teacher, had something to do with its design.

  I walked across the east quad, trying to follow the poorly-printed map on the opposite side of my schedule to find my locker. Having a locker was kind of a novelty; most schools I attended had phased them out in favor of more metal detectors.

  Finding the lockers, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. I was supposed to have locker forty-two, which, according to the map, was supposed to be located along the south end of the science building. However, where there should have been a row of lockers, there was instead a drinking fountain and a bulletin board with a message pinned to it apologizing for the lockers having been moved. If only they’d said where they’d been moved to.

  “You look lost,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned to see it belonged to a pretty girl with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a tight, white and blue cheerleader’s sweater that proudly proclaimed POETTES across the chest. Haley had one just like it.

  They both made it look good.

  “Yeah, I’m looking for my locker and, well, it’s not here,” I said with a smile.

  She sidled in close and looked at my locker assignment and map. She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, this school’s been under construction off and on for the last five years. They moved these lockers two years ago. I could show you where it should be, if you’d like.”

  She flashed a pretty, toothy smile that could have come out of a commercial.

  “Sure,” I said as she led me across the quad.

  “I’m Madison, by the way. Madison Holland,” she said, holding out a hand.

  I shook it. “Ben Pastor.”

  “I know,” she said. “Everybody does.”

  So it was going to be one of those kinds of schools. I was hoping I’d be past this by now.

  “I saw you at Haley’s almost-funeral. Let me say, you made quite the impression on most of us girls in the audience,” she said.

  “Quite the impression?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Oh yeah. You should’ve heard the disappointment when we found out Haley had snatched you up.”

  “Haley didn’t snatch me up. We’re just friends,” I corrected.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Good to know.”

  It was hard to tell if she was joking or serious. Her smile transformed into a friendly laugh. I joined her.

  “I’m not going to blend in very easily, am I?” I asked.

  “Doubtful,” she said. “You’ve got the new kid in a small town thing, the handsome mysterious stranger thing, and the small-town hero thing working against you. Just be thankful you didn’t save someone during the school year; they’d have probably thrown a parade in your honor.”

  I laughed. She didn’t.

  “No, I’m serious,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “You have no idea how weird this town is,” she said.

  I smiled. “I think I’m getting an idea.”

  Madison finally led me to my locker on the north side of the administration building. More people had shown up, kids looking for lockers, teachers tiredly walking to their classrooms with coffee mugs in hand.

  Madison looked over her shoulder as a couple more Poettes wandered in, waving to her. “Listen, I gotta see some people before class starts, but if you need help finding your way again, I’ll be around.”

  I waved as she left to join her friends. They all looked back at me simultaneously and giggled in that way only a group of teenage girls can.

  I was getting the impression that Splinters weren’t the only thing I’d have to worry about this year.

  Thankfully my first few classes were busy enough to make me forget about being Prospero High’s new shining toy. My first period AP History class was small. Julie was there, too, dressed more within the school dress code, but still looking like she was ready to attend a clown’s funeral. It turned out she was in pretty much every AP or honors class our school had to offer. I gratefully took up her offer to study with me.

  My second period class, Wood/Metal Shop, was held in the tiny, cramped Vocational Education room. It smelled of fresh cut wood, and was full of every kind of tool imaginable. Mr. Finn, the teacher, was a stocky, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a chin so square it looked like it belonged in a cartoon. Though his hands and wrists were heavily scarred from the craft and he walked with a cane, he proudly showed off the wall of fame behind his desk of various projects he and his past students had put together, including a few abstract sculptures, a beautiful, polished surfboard, and an impressive array of replica medieval weaponry.

  “If you can build a birdhouse, you can build anything. It also doesn’t hurt if you keep an eye on your fingers at all times. Our school nurse is only a part-timer,” he said before going into the fundamentals of safe tool usage. I could tell his would be a fun class.

  For third period, I hiked on over to the gym and changed into the gray T-shirt and blue shorts they’d provided for P.E.

  Mina and Haley sat in the back row of the retractable bleachers that most of the class milled around on. Haley was trying to talk to Mina, and as usual, Mina did not appear incredibly interested in talking to her. She looked so out of place, so tiny in her large glasses and baggy gym uniform. I ducked between two boys tossing a blue baseball cap back and forth as I climbed the rows of bleachers to meet them.

  “Hey, Ben!” Haley said, awkwardly striding down a row of bleachers to give me a hug. Mina just looked at us, unsmiling. I parted from the hug as quickly and diplomatically as I could.

  “Hey, guys, how’s your first day going?” I asked.

  Haley gave a nice, fake smile as she said, “Trying to figure out if I’m more tired of the people asking me how it felt to be a crazy survivor girl hiding in the woods or the people asking if the two of us are together.”

  “So, pretty standard then?” I asked.

  “Pretty standard, yeah,” she quickly agreed.

  Mina looked less enthusiastic to talk about her day.

  “It’s a school day. Less unpleasant than most, but the first day usually is,” she said. Looking around the class gathered beneath us, she asked, “You’re being careful?”

  It took me a second to realize what she was talking about. Amazing though it was, for a few hours I’d forgotten about Splinters and remembered what a life without them was like.

  “Of course,” I said. Mina simply nodded.

  I’d have prodded her for more information had a blue baseball cap not landed between us at that exact moment.

  “Little help?” a boy called from beneath us. Haley picked up the hat and looked down at the two boys who had been tossing it back and forth. The one with shaggy, dark hair that looked like it belonged underneath that hat looked vaguely familiar, from Haley’s (well, Splinter-Haley’s) summer acting class. The other, a tall, muscular boy with cold eyes and a narrow smile, I did not recognize. He looked like someone I should steer clear of.

  “You know my mom’s not gonna let you keep this hat, Robbie,” Haley said, amused.

  “I’m willing to take my chances,” the shaggy-haired boy said as he rubbed a hand across his scalp. “Keeps me glorious mane out of me eyes.”

  “I thought that was what you had Patrick for,” Haley joked. Robbie scowled. The muscle-bound boy I assumed to be Patrick laughed.

  “Well, can we at least keep throwing it until she confiscates it?” Robbie asked.

  Laughing, Haley tossed it back to them.

  After Haley sat back down, Mina leaned forward
and said, “Robbie York and Patrick Keamy. Both Probable Splinters.”

  When Haley and I both shot her confused looks, Mina added, “In case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t, but thanks,” I said.

  “Probable Splinters? Seriously?” Haley asked.

  “Of course. Didn’t you read the lists? Anyone in the Theatrical Society gets an automatic Probable spot because of Alexei’s involvement,” Mina explained. “And Patrick because—”

  “He’s kind of a jerk?” Haley finished.

  Though she clearly sought better words to explain him, Mina nodded.

  “Humans can be jerks just fine on their own,” Haley said. She looked to me, explaining. “He can be a bit of a jerk, but if you don’t get on his bad side, he can be pretty cool. Throws good parties whenever his parents are out, and that’s a lot. If you’re ever invited, check it out. Could do a lot for your social standing.”

  Looking at Mina, she added, “Yours too.”

  “I don’t go to parties,” Mina said defensively.

  Soon after, Aunt Christine and the other gym teacher came in and asked us to gather on the gym floor. True to what Haley had predicted, the first thing her mom did was tell Robbie to take off his hat. Dejected, he stuffed it in the back of his gym shorts.

  They started us off with some basic stretches and calisthenics to get the blood flowing. With that, it was time for the ever-classic high school death sport: dodgeball.

  For the fun of it, we were split down the middle, boys versus girls.

  “You’re not gonna trip up on us here, are ya?” Patrick asked.

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” I said.

  He smiled. “Cool. This school’s all about losing when it comes to sports. And if we lose to them, well I don’t think we’d hear the end of it, do you?”

  I watched the girls, most of them trying to pump themselves up with Haley, and Mina, standing behind them all, left out, quiet. Everybody would underestimate her.

  None of them knew what she was capable of, not like I did.

  The whistle blew. Patrick clapped his hands and yelled, “LET’S KICK SOME ASS!”

  “Language, Keamy!” Aunt Christine called out.

  “Sorry!” Patrick shot back.

  The opening volley was messy. The weak, the slow, the disinterested, they all fell quickly. The boys’ team gained momentum, catching a few balls to eliminate girls, dodging appropriately. Haley was taken out when Patrick caught a shot she intended to hit him in the stomach. Robbie got hit in the ankle. He fell to the floor screaming, pretending to be riddled with bullets, getting laughs from the entire room.

  Eventually, it came down to three of us, me, Patrick and another boy, who was fast but couldn’t throw worth a damn, against Mina. Though hardly graceful-looking in her uniform, she was nearly impossible to hit and could throw with deadly accuracy. Most of the girls had started chanting, “Raingirl! Raingirl!” It took me a second to realize that they were doing this for Mina. I had no idea why, maybe it was some hippie thing or joke I didn’t get, but Haley clearly didn’t like it.

  Mina looked at us for a long time, gauging her shots. She threw one ball at the fast boy, and he moved to dodge. As soon as he moved, she threw a second ball harder, pegging the boy in the leg. This got groans from our side, but a few scattered cheers from the girls. Most of them clearly didn’t like Mina, but they wanted a win.

  Just me, Patrick, and Mina. Some of the guys who had been tagged out on our side rolled us free balls.

  Mina would probably win, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. I waved Patrick to me, telling him I had an idea. He listened, smiled, said he’d give it a try. We spread out on opposite sides of the court, each aiming for Mina. I pulled my arm back, made to throw it at her, but fumbled my release. The ball bounced harmlessly towards Mina. It looked perfectly natural. As soon as it crossed onto her side of the court, she adjusted slightly to the side to catch it.

  That was his cue. Patrick fired a fast, powerful throw at her. The ball bounced off her hip, hard enough to make her stumble. A whistle blared. We’d won. Patrick pounded me on the back, telling the other celebrating boys that it was my idea. It felt awesome to be welcomed in.

  Looking across the court, I saw Mina, collapsed to her knees, looking utterly defeated. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. I just wanted to win, just wanted to have fun. I thought she of all people would understand friendly competition.

  I got dressed as quickly as I could, intending to catch Mina on her way to lunch. I wanted to buy her some lunch, or a dessert, or a soda, anything to smooth things over. I waited by the girl’s locker room for her to come out, listening as the lunch bell rang. Haley came out after a few minutes.

  “Is she still in there?” I asked.

  Haley shook her head. “No, she can dress really fast. I don’t know where she ran off to, but she did it in a hurry.”

  As sorry as I felt, I was also annoyed. I thought, as the closest thing to a best friend I had here, that Mina would want to do lunch together. Then again, I was also sure she had her own lunchtime rituals that she would want to take part in. Thinking she’d wait for me was probably presumptuous of me, especially since we hadn’t talked about it in advance.

  We’d talk about it and I’d apologize to her on the walk home. At least we’d agreed to that before school started.

  Haley walked me to the cafeteria and invited me to sit at her table. Seeing some familiar faces, like Kevin, Robbie, and Madison, along with an odd assortment of other cheerleaders and some of Kevin’s senior friends, all of them welcoming me in, felt pretty good.

  If this kept up, I was looking forward to my time at Prospero High.

  5.

  The Catalyst and the Class President

  Mina

  “There you are!”

  When I finally stepped out of the front gates of Prospero High after the first of the seventy-eight school days before winter break, Ben was waiting on the sidewalk out front, looking like he’d been there for a while.

  I’d been dreading this pretty severely since my fit in gym, and I still had the strong urge to turn and run the opposite way, but I had promised to share the walk with him. If I backed out now, it would only lead to lots of questions.

  “Here I am,” I agreed. “Did something happen?”

  He shouldered the backpack he’d had resting at his feet and fell into step beside me with enough evident agitation that he could have been preparing to tell me about an open Splinter attack on his History classroom. Instead he faltered at the question.

  “No, I just . . .” he seemed to be trying to hold on to the urgency of his mood. “I just couldn’t find you.”

  “I told you I was here.”

  I had. In answer to his unexplained, “Where are you?” text at 12:06, I’d confirmed that I was still safely at the school, as if my tracker couldn’t have told him that.

  “I knew you hadn’t been taken. I didn’t know where you were,” Ben clarified.

  “But you didn’t actually need me for anything?”

  Ben looked as if this were a surprising and difficult question.

  “I . . . no.”

  I was relieved to hear that this was nothing serious, but the tension at the near corner of his mouth said there was still something wrong.

  “Haley showed you around okay?” I asked

  Ben had acclimated to plenty of new schools before, always by following the crowds rather than avoiding them the way I needed to. Haley wasn’t the soundest Network candidate; I certainly wasn’t about to put a flamethrower in her hand and point her toward the woods, but she was human and well-meaning and—considering Ben’s long-standing day-to-day survival style and the social circle he was best suited to infiltrate for us—a much better guide than I would be. I’d assumed he’d be fine with her.

  “Yeah, I just thought you’d be there.”

  I had been planning to check on him at least once or twice, just to make sure. That had chan
ged when, for the first time, my hallucinations had failed to fade out at the usual hour.

  I’d been prepared for a few extra complications this semester.

  On top of my usual beginning-of-semester census, catching up on who was new, who was returning, who had spent their summers under circumstances with high or low risk of replacement, I’d also had to deal with dodging Haley, who was trying so hard to corner me that I was almost afraid to go into the girls’ bathrooms. It was a wonder she’d had any time left to help Ben.

  And I’d had to get Aldo settled in. He’d lasted three whole periods in the crowd before asking to share my hiding places.

  Those things I could handle, but I honestly didn’t know how long I’d last trying to read my syllabi and summon my best impression of normality for the teachers while the whiteboards kept melting whenever I looked at them.

  I’d made it through my morning classes without drawing any undue attention. I’d very nearly fallen apart during those last few seconds of dodgeball, when Ben had meant to distract me by dropping the ball and succeeded in distracting me by melting into a pool of Splinter matter before my eyes.

  Only, obviously, that hadn’t happened.

  “I have a lot of work to do during the school year,” I explained. “Lots more people to keep track of and a lot less time to do it. I don’t really get to take downtime when I’m there.”

  I didn’t go on to add that if anything dangerous did happen at school, he’d be a lot safer having another Network member nearby to ask for help instead of me.

  I also didn’t tell him that if the floor suddenly turned to snakes, I didn’t really want him to have to see me jumping on the nearest chair, like a child pretending to cross a fumeless lava flow.

  And I didn’t tell him that I was hoping our mismatched schedules might make such incidents less frequent for me.

  Ever since the hallucinations had started, I’d been struggling to come up with any likely cause. My mental faculties had never been strictly normal, always enhanced in some ways and wanting in others, and it was possible that there had been some sort of insanity time bomb inside me all along, triggered recently by the ordinary neurological rewiring of being a teenager. Or it was possible that when the Warehouse pod had read me and found me defective, its probes cutting directly into the tissue of my brain, forcing sixteen years’ worth of memories into a few seconds of consciousness, it had left me even more scrambled than it had found me.