Awakening: Book 1 of The Summer Omega Series

by JK Cooper

  Coach Anders gave her a nod, encouraging her to proceed. Chelsea still stood beside him, one hand on a very sassy hip.

  Fine.

  Rising up on the balls of her feet once more, Shelby launched forward, sprinting. The inner growl grew louder in her mind, and her vision singled out the vault, everything else blurring out of focus. Something within her peaked, and her eyes burned, just for a second. With the instincts of a natural gymnast, along with another, more primal, instinct, she pounced on the springboard. It groaned in protest as she launched off it and she hit the vault with a velocity that should have sent her tumbling to the ground with a broken wrist.

  Her world spun as she pushed off the vault, propelling herself high. Too high. She closed her eyes and let both instincts take over. Legs straight, toes pointed. Rotating the torso with arms crossed over the chest. Curl into a tuck, thrust head weight forward. One rotation, then two. She closed her eyes as she went into the third front-flip.

  It was one too many.

  She hit the ground. The top of her back struck the mat and sounded like a jet breaking the sound barrier. Its echo lasted for several seconds. Shelby lay still, slowly opening her eyes. Above her, Coach Anders was saying something, but his words were muddled.

  “Shelby! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  “What?” she moaned.

  Other figures appeared in her vision standing over her, girls in leotards.

  “Don’t try to get up,” Anders said. He handed his cell phone to one of the girls. “Call an ambulance.”

  “What? No,” Shelby said and started to stand up. “I’m fine.”

  Anders put a hand on her shoulder to hold her down. “No, you’re hurt. You could make it worse.”

  Shelby’s eyes wandered. When they found their focus, she clearly saw Chelsea and her two cohorts staring at her with amazed and . . . envious looks? Then, Chelsea’s expression turned conniving.

  “Clearly, you can’t let her on the team, Coach Anders,” Chelsea said. “She can’t be trusted and will just, like, hurt herself. And the team.”

  Anders gave the team captain a withering look. Other murmurs found Shelby’s ears.

  “Did you see that? How high she got?”

  “Crazy, just crazy high.”

  “Uh, coach?” one girl called out. “Take a look at the springboard.”

  “Not now, Sadie,” Anders said.

  “No, really, Coach. It’s some crazy bull feces.”

  Anders sighed. “Just stay here. Please, don’t try to move.”

  He got up and walked around to the other side of the vault where the girl had called to him. Several others left to investigate as well.

  “Great,” came Chelsea’s shrill voice. “She’s dangerous and fat.”

  Oh screw this! Shelby kipped up. A few vertebrae did pop as her back arched, but when she landed on her feet, all was right.

  Anders knelt beside the springboard. A crack split it down the middle. One of the metal springs underneath was broken. Coach Anders looked shocked, then concerned, then somewhat relieved once he saw her on her feet. He stood up.

  “You’re okay? I know teenagers think they’re indestructible and all. Nothing wrong with taking it easy.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Shelby said, staring at Chelsea. Shelby felt her eyes start to burn again, the way they had when she had run at the vault. Chelsea took a step back. Shelby smelled something in the air, and the growl within her started to return. Fear. She smelled Chelsea’s fear. Well, it was more startlement, not quite fear, but still a welcome reaction.

  “Call me fat again, powder puff, and we’re going to have a serious problem.”

  “Whatever,” Chelsea said dismissively. “You can’t be on the team.”

  “Oh yes she sure as bat feculence can!” another girl said, the one who had discovered the springboard. Her dark red hair was pulled back into a tight bun, accenting ears that stuck out just a little farther than normal. It was a cute quality.

  Did the redhead just say . . . “bat feculence?”

  “She just tried to do too much,” the redhead said, “but even what she did was twice what you’ve ever done on the vault! And, isn’t that your main event?”

  The scene quickly devolved into a shouting match with increasingly higher pitched voices.

  “Ladies!” came the only male voice in the gym. “Ladies, please!”

  The argument died down as Coach Anders regained control.

  “I think this is enough for today,” he said. “Hit the showers.” To the redhead, he said, “Swearing Sadie, let Shelby know the practice schedule. You’ll be working with her.”

  “You mean she’s on the cussing team?” Sadie asked with a triumphant grin aimed at Chelsea.

  “Well,” Anders said, “we need to work on her control, obviously.” Shelby put her head down, slightly embarrassed. “But,” he continued, “that height off the vault we can use.”

  “But the springboard—” Chelsea started, but Anders cut her off.

  “From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t actually need one.”

  “Yay!” the redhead, “Swearing Sadie,” apparently, said as she did a series of quick claps and took Shelby by the arm. “Come on! I’ll show you around this dung hole after we shower and change.”

  “Um, okay . . .” Shelby said. Sadie’s enthusiasm made her smile.

  As Shelby finished getting changed back into her jeans and Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt, Sadie asked, “So, what year are you?”

  “Senior,” Shelby said, tying her hoodie around her waist. “You?”

  “Junior. But, wow, new school for your senior year? That’s gotta suck the big one.”

  Shelby shrugged. “Just a bit, I guess. Had two different schools for my junior year.”

  “Whoa. What the copulation? Work or something? What do your parents do? Wait, they’re drug runners, right? Are you on the run from the cops? You guys are all like Breaking Bad, right? Is your dad’s name Walter?” Sadie winked at her, as if to say, it’s okay, you can tell me!

  “Uh, no, but that would be exciting at least. Just stuff, I guess. My mom actually died when I was really young, and my dad used to be in the military. Did some superhero stuff or something, but that ended when my mom died.”

  Sadie stared wide-eyed and sad. “Oh, fecal matter. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay. I barely even remember her. Just flashes here and there. Hey, can I ask you something?”

  Sadie shrugged. “Only if it’ll make me blush.”

  “I don’t think I know you well enough to make you blush.”

  “Don’t be shy.”

  Yep, redhead all the way. Feisty and bold. “So, what’s up with all the ‘bat feculence’ and ‘dung hole’ talk?”

  Sadie chuckled. “Oh. That. Well, see, I cussed out my ten-year old brother one too many times. He tattled. I got busted. My dad said the words and combos I used would make sailors take notes. Had to promise not to swear any more. Sooo now I’m just very literal. They can’t complain about that, right? My vocab really went through the roof. You know how copulating hard it is to come up with literal substitutions?”

  “Um, copulating?” Shelby asked.

  “Technical term for the act of having sex,” Sadie said.

  “What does that have to do with—” Shelby stopped. Oh. “So, you’re literally Swearing Sadie.”

  “Endearing, right? Funny thing is, I didn’t get that nickname until after I stopped swearing.”

  Shelby pulled her Converse All Stars on and started tying her laces.

  “You’re blushing, springboard slayer,” Sadie said. “So, how’d your mom die?” Then, before Shelby could answer, Sadie covered her mouth. “Condemn it, I’m sorry, I’m not very good at these things. My mom says I have no cussing filter.”

  Shelby pursed her lips and half shrugged with one shoulder. “Cancer. And it’s okay. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

  “What does your d
ad do now?”

  “That’s a tough one.”

  “What, you don’t know? Cussing really?” Sadie asked with a scrunched up brow.

  Shelby realized she might have already said too much and tried to stall while she thought of something, tying already-tied shoelaces. Sadie must have seen it on her face.

  “Sorry,” Sadie said. “Filter. But maybe he still does superhero stuff, and you don’t know it!” Sadie raised her eyebrows several times. “Right? I bet your dad’s hot.”

  “I, uh . . .”

  Sadie laughed. “You’re turning as red as my hair!”

  Shelby laughed as well. It felt good. “I really couldn’t say if my dad’s hot.”

  “You wouldn’t know hot if it burned a hole in your thick, empty skull,” a new voice said.

  Chelsea, with her perfect pouty lips, and her two followers rounded the corner of the aisle, arms folded.

  “Here comes the daily dose of solid waste from the anal crevice,” Sadie whispered to Shelby. “Well, if it isn’t the whorey trinity. Tell me, do you practice your snobbery and little diminutive stares? On average, how many hours per day? It’s for research so, please, be honest.”

  Chelsea glared at Sadie.

  “Exactly!” Sadie said. “That one, for example, did you stand in front of a mirror until you got it right? Were Amanda and Trish there to assist?”

  “My boyfriend is the hottest guy in the school!” Chelsea retorted, nearly squealing.

  Oh. Now Shelby understood. Chelsea was one of those girls that validated her standing by whom she dated. How awesome. And shallow.

  “Our epic kiss is on YouTube and has over 19,000 views!,” Chelsea said. “Who hasn’t even gone on a date in over a year?” She raised her eyebrows at Sadie.

  “You’ve hung out with Kale a couple times,” Sadie said. “That doesn’t exactly make him your boyfriend. Neither does hiding a camera by your front door and tricking him into kissing you.”

  “Well,” Amanda chimed in, the girl seemingly glued to Chelsea’s left, “rumor has it that Kale is going to ask Chelsea to homecoming. They’re sure to win king and queen. They’re so perfect together.”

  Shelby looked at Sadie. “Does she always caw like that?”

  “Kinda hurts the ears, doesn’t it?” Sadie answered. “Sort of like those condemned Styrofoam peanuts in a box.”

  “Ooooh, yeah, hate that noise. Wonder what else she posts on YouTube,” Shelby said conspiratorially.

  “We’re gonna put you both in a box six feet under!” Chelsea said.

  “Together or separate?” Sadie asked. “I’m scared of being alone.”

  Chelsea batted her eyelashes and raised her eyebrows, narrowing her annoyingly perfectly proportioned forehead. “How about in pieces?”

  “Can you at least withhold the Styrofoam?” Shelby asked.

  “Listen, sister,” Chelsea said, “you’re new so I’ll cut you some slack. It’s still the summer, but when school starts, you’ll want to be careful about what side you choose. Swearing Sadie,” she pointed to Sadie, “is not a side you want to be on.”

  “So, you’re accepting applications for new minions, then?” Sadie asked.

  Three high-pitched gasps sounded out, one right after the other.

  Chelsea leaned closer to Sadie. “You’re small, oh, so small to me, and everyone that matters.”

  Trish and Amanda nodded in unison, like brainwashed disciples, and the threesome walked away, exiting the locker room.

  Shelby giggled. “Daily dose of solid waste from the anal crevice? Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s the technical description of sh—”

  “I know,” Shelby said. “It’s kinda even more offensive.”

  Sadie smiled a knowing smile.

  “Why not just swear when your parents aren’t around?” Shelby asked.

  “I promised them. I’m all noble like that. Besides, I’d just slip up at home if I’m not consistent all the time.”

  “So, who’s this Kale guy? Some mindless baboon?”

  “Captain of the football team, of course,” Sadie said.

  “You’re kidding. Could it be any more cliché?”

  “Yeah, actually. Chelsea could be a cheerleader.”

  Shelby made gagging noises, and they both laughed.

  “It gets better,” Sadie said. “Chelsea used to be a cheerleader and found out Kale had sworn off dating cheerleaders. So, she quit and joined the gymnastics team her sophomore year, just when I got here as a copulating freshman.”

  Copulating freshman? Oh, right. Technical term. “Huh, so she’s had her eye on this Kale guy for some time.”

  “She follows him around like a lost puppy.”

  “He doesn’t like her?”

  Sadie shrugged.

  “But,” Shelby said, “it sounded like they’ve gone out before.”

  “If you ask me,” Sadie whispered, “it was more a pity thing from Kale. Otherwise, why hasn’t he asked her to be his girlfriend?”

  “But . . . Chelsea said she was.”

  “That’s her version of the story. She’s full of dung.”

  “Not feculence?”

  “I try to avoid alliteration in my swearing.”

  “Well, maybe Kale isn’t a mindless baboon after all.”

  “He’s a sucker for lost puppies,” Sadie said. “But a cussing hot one, at least.”

  Shelby cocked her head to the side. “Oh?”

  Sadie said, “Yeah, if you like that tight chest, broad shoulder, huge biceps-that-you-just-want-to-bite kind of look. I bet he’d give your dad a run for his money.”

  “Uh . . . right.” Shelby laughed, genuinely feeling a smattering of happiness. “Hey, thanks, by the way.”

  “What the Underworld for?”

  “You know, sticking up for me or whatever.”

  “Anything to stick it to the whorey trinity.”

  Shelby grinned. Sadie closed her locker and went to the door. As she opened it, a shaft of bright sunlight invaded the dull room. Shelby squinted.

  “Holy coitus, that’s bright! See you around?” Sadie asked.

  “Yeah, for sure, Swearing Sadie.”

  Sadie smirked and took a step out, then stopped. She looked over her shoulder. The sun made her hair glow like strands of wispy fire as she stood in the threshold. “By the way, I know what you are.”

  Shelby shot to her feet, a feeling of falling within her stomach. Before she could say anything, the door closed, banishing the sun. The locker room regained its dullness.

  Sadie was gone.

  Shelby stood in the locker room, stunned, for what felt like an hour. Maybe just a few seconds.

  By the way, I know what you are.

  She couldn’t mean that. It’s not what you think.

  Shelby burst out of the same door Sadie had disappeared through, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. The bright afternoon sun hurt her eyes, and she raised an arm over her brow. The sounds of chatter filled her ears, and a few people bumped into her as they filed past, boys that were large enough to certainly be called men even if their minds weren’t quite there. They laughed and carried on as if she were invisible.

  Shelby doubted she would ever be the same around men again. The effects of one year ago—of Lucas—still consumed her at times. Any boy larger than her—most her age—sent apprehension through her.

  She shrank back against the wall, frantically reaching for the door handle to get back into the locker room, back to safety. No use. It had locked behind her as she exited.

  Of course, she thought, the anxiety building within her.

  Slumping down to her haunches, the stucco wall scraped her back through her shirt. She pulled her knees tight against her chest, praying she could just disappear.

  But the threat—was it really a threat?—passed her by in a couple of seconds.

  This is stupid! one side of her brain yelled at her.

  She knew that side was right. It was stupid.

 
“Okay,” she said into her folded arms. Even to her ears, her voice sounded tender, hurt, almost like a whine. That did not help her self-esteem.

  She breathed in deeply and held it for a second. After letting it go, she tried again. “Okay.”

  Better.

  “Stand up.”

  Her legs felt like Jell-O and didn’t respond. That’s when the anger surfaced. She wasn’t this timid, not this shy. This person she became around perceived threats—false threats—was definitely not her. Her dad had taught her to fight, to be mentally tough.

  But she wasn’t. Not in these moments. Her eyes began to burn again, like they had when she focused on the vault, like they had a year ago with Lucas.

  “Stand up!” she hissed through gritted teeth, finding the strength and suppressing the anxiety. An accidental jump, that was what happened next. She meant to only come to her feet, but the soles of her Converse Chucks left the grass for an instant.

  “Well that was . . . energetic.”

  Shelby turned toward the smooth tenor voice, a little startled, and saw a boy standing next to her. He stood a few inches taller than her with dusty brown hair that, backlit from the sun, had a slight halo of a golden shine around it. Khaki shorts ended before well-defined calves, supported by white ankle socks and a new pair of Asics running shoes.

  “I’m Sean,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re new, right?”

  “I, uh, think so.” Now she sounded like a baboon.

  Sean gave her a half-smile and cocked his head a little to the right.

  “Yeah, I’m new. Sorry, just trying to figure out where to go.”

  “What’s your name?”

  Shelby noticed his hand still waited expectantly. “Oh, sorry. I’m Shelby. Shelby Brooks.” She took his hand—a little rough but warm—and then quickly released it, hoping she didn’t appear curt. She wasn’t “alone” with this guy—other students constantly passed by—but it still made her a little anxious to interact with him one-on-one. Yet, there was something disarming about him; not completely, but enough that she didn’t run away like a frightened girl from a big purple dinosaur on TV with a pervert’s name that was always trying to hug people. Oh, the nightmares she used to have from “kid” shows.