I raised my eyebrows at him.
His cheeks flamed. “Caleb, dude, no offense, but I don't want what you got.”
John glared at Jonesy.
“I'm tellin' the truth!” Jonesy slapped his knee. “What happened in the cemetery made me want to piss my pants. That dead guy... damn!”
“What about after the test?” John asked.
“I don't know,” I said. “I thought I'd wait and see.”
“Not good, Caleb.” John said. “You know those butt-jabs Carson and Brett are thinking about ways to make your life miserable.”
I had already thought of that. But I wanted to get through the testing before I tackled the terrible twins.
“I heard Jade LeClerc saying something to Brett,” John said.
I whipped my head in his direction. I did not want Jade near that ass-wipe.
“Why was she talking to Brett Mason?” The girls usually walked on the far side of the hall to avoid that perv.
“She told him to go to hell.”
“What?” I yelled.
“Chill out. I overheard them before sixth hour PE.”
That would have been before PE. I’d noticed Jade didn't turn and say hi to me like usual.
I clenched my hands into fists. “Was he doing something to her?” Just the thought of that butt-munch saying one thing to her made me want to hurt him.
“Calm down,” John said. “I heard your name mentioned, then she told him where to go.”
Jonesy gave a thumbs-up, “They saw me come around the corner, and she took off. Brett asked where all my queer-bait friends were.”
He started pacing in tight circles around the room.
Jonesy was kind of a violence lover. I could relate.
“Did you let him have it?” Jonesy punched his other palm, making a satisfying thwack.
John just looked at him. “Would you stop? You understand the bully laws, right?”
Those finer details were lost on Jonesy. A huge grin overtook his face. I knew that look.
“What?” John asked.
“I'm thinkin' about a bit o' payback,” Jonesy said.
Uh-oh. I knew what that meant. Jonesy had rigged payback schemes, some not so successful, for Brett and Carson in the past.
You'd think they'd catch on.
“Jonesy—” I started.
He held up his hand.
“Just listen. Brett and Carson are dumber than rocks, right? How about I have them try a cool experiment before the APs and get 'em all distracted from their plan to sabotage your life?”
For Jonesy, that plan was bordering on brilliant. I turned my finger in a circular keep-talking motion.
“How about the tube and Aqua Net trick?” he asked.
We groaned. That had gone really bad last time.
John scowled. “No way, Jonesy. You remember what happened when we tried it.”
“Exactly! It's the perfect thing! It'll take one of them out and distract them around AP time. Then after testing, if the cerebral-whatever-it-is works, they can flap all they want.” Jonesy spread his hands wide. “If you're not popping the big AFTD guns, there's no proof.” Bow to Jonesy's invincible logic.
Sometimes his logic bit us in the ass.
I ran my hand through my hair, thinking furiously. It was only Monday, so we had almost a week to strategize. “Okay. Are you gonna steal your mom's hairspray?”
“It's Aqua Net. There is no substitute,” he said, sounding mildly insulted. “We've got spiders entombed in the corners of my parents' bathroom from my mom using it forever. Pretty damn effective.”
“Effective but disgusting,” I told him.
Jonesy puffed out his chest. “My mom swears by the stuff. She never has to redo her hair.”
His mom's hair was stiff. I could throw a pencil, and it would stick in there. Jonesy called his mom's bathroom time The Ritual. Aqua Net sure worked when we tried fun-with-fire. John's nose hairs has gotten singed.
John obviously didn't like the idea. Of the three of us, John was the most cautious. Of course, he'd gotten his eyebrows burnt off. They’d taken about three months to grow back, and his parents were super pissed.
“Come on, John,” Jonesy said, “Just restating the obvious here. Wouldn't it be cool to get those turds back and off our backs at the same time?”
“Yeah, but if they really get hurt...”
“They won't,” Jonesy said.
I turned to Jonesy. “What if they tell us to stick it?”
“I'll tell 'em the same stuff I told you. We already did it, and it's fun.”
He gave me a sly wink because it had certainly not been fun: singed eyebrows. I could almost still taste the foul perfume even after a whole year.
“Then, if they smell a trap, I'll say they're sissy-sucking-titty-babies.” Jonesy could handle it with his boatload-of-charm.
John gave a satisfied nod. “That'll work.”
The cemetery was the best place because Carson and Brett wouldn't want us to think they were scared after the raising-the-dead-guy episode. Jonesy said he'd talk to them the next day. Meanwhile, Dad would get the cerebral-blocking drug, and I'd be set.
I just needed to find out what was happening with Jade. Maybe I could start with a conversation. So original.
CHAPTER 5
John and I sat together in English. Miss Rodriguez was a first-year teacher so she wasn’t bored or raging at her students yet. Her back was to us, so I was sly-pulsing to John about Sunday. We had a satisfying view of Miss Rodriguez (pretty hot).
She suddenly turned, burning holes into me.
I jerked as if I'd been slapped. I had no idea what she'd said. I looked at John, and he was wide eyed.
“Caleb Hart,” Miss Rodriguez said. My whole name. Not good. “What tense is this?” She pointed a dry eraser pen at the board.
My cheeks grew hot, and I wanted to sink underneath my desk. I stared numbly at the sentence. My family has been making plans for a snowboarding trip.
I glanced at Jade. She'd written PROGRESSIVE in block letters on the back of her notebook. I slid my eyes back to Miss Rodriguez, who was looking less hot every second.
“Present perfect progressive, Miss Rodriguez.”
She smiled brilliantly, her gaze wandering over the thirty of us.
“It's nice someone is paying attention to the correct tense. Now remember class”—she turned back to the white board—“at this age, it is assumed that you speak correctly, now it's time to know the why. Grammar achieves this by teaching how our language supports speech.”
My heartbeat slowed to a trot. That was close.
I looked at Jade again, and she gave me a shy smile. I smiled back. She'd saved my ass. It was the first outward sign she liked me more than just a “hey” in the hall when we jostled through the crowd. Brett noticed our exchange and smirked. Jade glanced at him, and I watched her smile wash away.
English ended, and we swarmed into the hall like bees, weaving to our lockers. PE was next period, and looking at my watch—a retro thing from my dad—I realized I had maybe four minutes to talk to Jade. I surveyed the long hallway, looking for her sweep of black hair. I'd once overheard her say she was part Cherokee.
Score! I scoped the hair like a black flag in the crowd. Shiny, it spilled around her shoulders as she talked to Sophie. I waved.
Sophie saw me and leaned forward, saying something to Jade. Jade turned, and my heart paused in my chest—her effect on me was that powerful. No guy wanted a girl to know that he was that enthralled, so I blanked my expression.
She smiled wider as I sauntered over to where she stood beside her locker, my backpack a swinging weight on my shoulder.
“Hey,” I said with my best casual smile.
“Hi, Caleb,” Sophie said then looked at Jade. “Gotta go!” She winked, and a brilliant bit of color spread over Jade's cheekbones.
Once Sophie stepped away, I said, “Thanks for your help in Rodriguez's class.”
She smi
led. “It looked like you could use it.”
“Hey! I knew it was present perfect. I just didn't know the other.”
“Riiigghht...” Her eyes glittered with humor.
I huffed for show. It wasn't that hard talking to her after all.
She stared up at me with her smoky eyes rimmed with soft, Kohl-colored makeup. She was hot but not in a fake way, just looking at her made my chest tight.
I glanced away for a moment to catch my breath then looked back at her. “Here's the thing. Brett and Carson have me in their cross hairs and maybe who I hang out with.”
She gave me a steady look, a puzzled expression furrowing between her brows.
“Do we hang out?”
I shrugged. “I want to.”
I'd rather die than tell her how I feel, but I needed the guts to own it.
“Me too,” she said, peering up from under the black lace of her eyelashes.
Wow! Relief flowed through me. Even with all the scary stuff I was dealing with, Jade made me feel invincible. I could do anything.
The bell shrilled. Crap! We had like thirty seconds before class.
Laughing, we sprinted down the hall, Jade's hair streaming behind her like black water.
We slid through the door just as the final bell shrilled.
Griswold raised an eyebrow. “Glad you two could join us. Suit up. You both have extra calisthenics today.”
Carson and Brett appeared very interested in Jade and me.
Jonesy was in line, giving me a look of restrained horror. He was so easy to read. I could practically hear him saying, “You decided to make a move on Jade... now?”
I gave him my so sue me expression.
***
After PE, I told Jade I'd see her the next day. On my way to my next class, I whipped out the credit-card-sized pulse cell I'd gotten for my birthday and started a message group with John and Jonesy.
The screen came alive:
Activated and I thought, Jonesy, then belatedly, John.
Jonesy: Hey, What the
Caleb: Chillax. I finally told her I want to hang out.
John: What? You actually talked to Jade? This is the worst time in the world Caleb, and I hear she's a hater.
Me: She doesn't hate. She's just quiet.
John: Are you going to tell her? About...
Jonesy: No
Caleb: I have a feeling about her. Just trust me and stop being ass-clowns about it.
Jonesy: K, but she needs to see your skills, you feel me? Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I talked to the real ass-clowns. Wait. Do you have your thumb on the touch pad, Caleb? I'm getting feedback.
I jerked my thumb off the screen.
Jonesy: Okay, now I can see just myself. LMAO. They're idiots. I told them they're too chicken
Caleb: You gonna get the hairspray from your mom?
Jonesy: Yeah. I scoped a can in the reprocesser. I'll snag it.
Caleb: Isn't she gonna notice? If she's like my mom, she's a total freak for the reprocessing credit on the garbage bill.
Jonesy: Nah, I'll offer to take the separator out for once, and she'll be so happy I volunteered for a chore she won't care. LOL
John: I think we're going to be sorry.
Jonesy: Cork it, pal. Don't be a fun-sucker.
John:
I swept my thumb over the touch pad, setting my pulse to hibernate.
***
Band was a righteous seventh-hour class, a subject I actually liked. John's parents believed in music. They were old zealots—my grandpa's age. John could play everything, but he really rocked at the piano. He could read music and play a piece he’d listened to only a few times. I struggled with just learning the notes. But I loved it even more because I’d found out it was the only time during the school day that I could drown out the whispering.
John and I jammed together on a new piece Mr. Pierce had given us. We were working out the kinks, and the volume on the amplifier was turned to almost full volume, making my teeth rattle in my head. John flashed me a grin. He was a pretty serious dude most of the time.
I hit a flat in my chord, and John winced. My concentration was sucking big time.
We wrapped up the session then hung our guitars on the rack with about fifteen others. I made a basket with my pick in the box marked Caleb S. Hart. Swish.
I followed John out of class. Fresh, late-afternoon spring air hit my lungs, and I sucked it up. I could taste summer on my tongue, and that meant Gramp's house at Lake Tapps—no school and screw off time with the Js.
“Why start something with Jade, Caleb?” John asked.
“You don't see that she's special?” I asked with a duh in my voice.
“Well, she's good looking but complicated. And that’s something we don't need right now. And you heard about her family, right?”
I stopped walking and looked at him. “Yeah, I know her dad's a psycho. So?”
“Hey, don't get defensive on me. But you do like a project.”
I strode away with a scowl.
“Jade's not a project.”
He sighed as he caught up to me. “It's more than that. She lives with her aunt, who’s not much better than the dad.”
I stopped again on the side of the road, hands hanging loose at my sides. “So how's that her fault?” Cars drove past, breaking the sweet smell of spring with their exhaust. I felt that pressure building in my head. Getting pissed seemed to make it harder to block the voices. And the occasional road kill didn't help.
John shook his head. “I shouldn't rant on Jade. I just don't feel great about including her in this mess.”
“Like I pulsed ya, I trust how I feel about Jade. And besides, you guys are stressing about my AFTD but have you thought about what you'll test-out for?”
“I have thought about it,” John said.
“But there won't be anything for me. I'm already halfway through puberty and nothing. The tests will confirm that. Not everyone manifests.”
I looked up at John—way up. He was a pretty tall dude for fourteen. He'd be fifteen soon, in September. His dad was even taller, like NBA height. John’s hair stood about four inches away from his head as if he had stuck his finger in a pulse socket—a fro-and-go, Jonesy called it.
I put my thumb to my chest. “Hey, dude, you don't want this.”
John grinned. “No way. But I wouldn’t mind having something cool like psychokinesis.”
I rolled my eyes—whatever. “John, you know that's pretty rare.”
“Yeah, but look at you. AFTD is the rarest.” We both knew it wasn't the ability to have. All it got Jeffrey Parker was a one-way ticket as a government puppet.
“True.”
We started walking toward my house again. Suddenly, the sound of screeching tires pierced my ears. John lassoed my arm and hauled me off the shoulder and into the shallow drainage ditch. My butt landed in an inch of water that instantly seeped into my pants.
A car that had been behind us careened sideways in an attempt to avoid a black dog standing in the road.
A surreal moment ensued as the car rammed into the dog, sending the animal sailing at least ten feet away. It landed about two car lengths from where John and I sat in the ditch.
The driver, an older balding guy, got out of his car. Looking dazed, he sent a nervous glance our way.
“You kids okay?” Baldy asked. But he moved on toward the dog before we could answer.
Oh he gave a shit, right.
“Yeah,” John mumbled anyway.
I looked away, not saying anything because the dog was sending images to me. It knew it was dying and was sending out some kind of distress signal that only I heard. My body hu
mmed in response.
I got to my feet as if under compulsion.
We walked across the pebbled pavement, oily from the previous night's rain.
As I drew closer to the dog, that unique pressure built in my head, straining for release.
He was just a mutt, and didn’t seem to be breathing.
I knelt and stretched out my hand.
Baldy said, “Don't touch it!”
Without hesitation, I gently touched its fur. I felt a small spark of life ignite. Unbidden, that part of me that heard the dead released and poured over the dog.
I grasped that spark and thought, Live! Warmth welled up beneath my hand like liquid heat, and the dog's ribs expanded with a shaky inhale. His eyes opened, and he looked up at me. In that moment, I knew he was mine.
I looked up to see John and Baldy staring down at me. He shot us a look I never wanted to see on an adult's face: revulsion mixed with fear. I realized more people in a semi-circle of wary gaping faces had gathered nearby.
John whispered, “We're screwed.”
The dog sat up, but he still looked injured. His eyes stayed pinned on me. My creepy new reality.
Wonderful.
A cop moved through the small crowd and approached us.
“You boys there, step away from the dog.” His nametag read Garcia.
I stood and backed away from the dog, with John following suit. The dog struggled to its feet and attempted to limp over to me.
With one hand outstretched, Garcia moved toward the dog. The dog growled low in the back of his throat and bared his teeth.
Keeping his eyes on the dog, Garcia brought out his pulse and used the touchpad. “I've pulsed animal control. They'll be here soon,” he announced.
My heart pounded. I didn't like the thought of the dog being taken away.
“Okay,” Garcia said, “somebody start talking.”
Baldy stepped up, wringing his plump hands. “I was driving along, doing the speed limit, when this dog just appeared out of nowhere.” He spread his arms wide. “And these two boys”—he gave us an accusing glare—“were on the other side of the road, so I had to avoid them.” He made it sound as if walking on the side of the road was a crime.
Garcia held out his hand. “Identification, please.”
Baldy handed over his driver's license. I felt the pressure building and tried to rein it in. When I was upset, it was way worse to manage.
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