Yeah. You bet.
* * *
Joss
How bad does it have to get before I can call it the worst day ever?
First Krista, then freakin’ Dobbs, and then Mr. Hanson. He cornered me after Chem to talk to me about my lousy performance on the latest test. My dad was going to have a fit about that. Bad grades, like outstanding grades, draw attention. A solid B average is the thing to aim for. Anyway, the impromptu summary of the covalent-whatever deal—which I still didn’t get—had delayed me in my usual pre-lunch routine, and gotten me nabbed by a hall monitor. Do Not Pass Go, do not sneak up to your usual hideout, go directly to the
Fifth Circle
of Hell, otherwise known as the cafeteria.
It’s not like I’d never been to the cafeteria before. I used to have to eat there when I was a freshman, for a few very long months, anyway, before I figured out how to avoid it. I remembered now that the best caf’ strategy was to take your lunch with you to the class before so you could race down there, as inconspicuously as possible, and claim an empty table. It was ok for later arrivals to sit at your table, which they might do, crowding together on the opposite side like you have a disease, but whatever. As long as you got there first, you didn’t have to ask to sit at anyone else’s table—and risk being told no, because what’s more humiliating than that? Sometimes people would just take all the chairs from your table and carry them off to other tables, and that’s sort of embarrassing too, but not as bad if you don’t let it get to you and remind yourself that lunching alone is a valid lifestyle choice. On the whole, though, the cafeteria is a bad scene and to be avoided whenever possible.
So there I was, standing in the doorway, taking a quick scan of the room and scoping things out. I still had a notebook and textbook for Chem, so I moved them to carry them under my arm. Because you can’t be holding books in front of you like a shield. It’s way girly and makes people think you’re scared. Posturing is very important in the wild; watch a few documentaries, you’ll see.
I couldn’t spend too much time hovering, because that was only going to draw attention, so I just plunged in and hoped for the best. The caf’ was friggin’ chaos as usual. I think I have a low tolerance for chaos. I kept scanning, knowing that I wasn’t going to find an empty table, but hoped maybe I’d see an empty space near someone I was at least on speaking terms with, and could come up with some burning question I had to ask. It’s hard to look around for such a specific situation while still trying to avoid eye contact, let me tell you.
And then I saw it. There were two chairs just standing there in the corner against the wall. One was pushed all the way into the corner and facing out into the room, the other facing the corner. I could sit with my back to the room, put my boots up on the one in the corner, prop my textbook up on my knees, and pretend like I just had to absorb some chemistry knowledge. Perfect.
Except for the fact that I had to pass Marco’s table, and I was so excited about the chairs that I didn’t even notice it until my books flew out from under my arm and hit the floor. I think I knew what happened before I even saw him. Some kind of prey recognizes predator right before it gets eaten kind of thing.
“Oops,” he said, in that obnoxious, I so meant to do that way.
I had to squat down to pick up the books, because of course papers went flying out of my notebook when it landed. Thankfully they didn’t go far and I didn’t actually have to go crawling under tables for them.
“Sorry about that, Joss.”
“Sure.”
“Surprised to see you here.”
I didn’t answer. I had some answers in my head; it just seemed better to keep my mouth shut and move on.
“You never come here for lunch. Are you meeting your girlfriend? Why don’t you bring her over? Jeff, get a couple chairs for Joss and her new girlfriend.”
See, this is a thing between Marco and me, and it’s really unpleasant. When we were freshmen, I guess he had this thing for me because he asked me to the Homecoming dance. And he kept bugging me to go out with him for like a week or something until I finally had to get nasty with him so he’d leave me alone. Not like insulting his masculinity nasty, just, you know, the I don’t like you truth of it. I don’t know why we have to think that telling the truth is being mean, but sometimes I’m powerless against my socialization, what can I tell you? Anyway, ever since then he’s been on this You must be a lesbian thing, because I guess that’s the only way it makes sense for him that I wouldn’t just fall at his feet. Mostly I just avoid him.
Which is what I tried to do at that point by standing up with my books and taking a step away from the table, except that he caught my arm.
“Let me go, Marco.”
“Or what, you’ll get your girlfriend over here to kick my ass?”
Jeff chuckled at that, and I knew that would only make Marco feel like he had an audience so he’d be more into hassling me. I couldn’t help but glance over at Dylan. Because I’m an idiot. He was at the other end of the table with Eric. They had their noses stuck in a car magazine and didn’t seem to notice what was going on.
I think Marco noticed because his eyes narrowed at me, and my stomach rolled. Marco can be really mean, and what’s more, he’s not that typical big, stupid bully as seen on TV. He’s smart enough to come up with the kind of stuff that really hurts. Stuff that sticks forever.
“Joss, where have you been? Come on. Lunch is half over.”
What the…? I turned my head—Marco still had my arm—and Kat was standing there. I wouldn’t even say I had a speaking relationship with Kat. She’d said “hi” to me last month, and one time in the locker room she asked to borrow lotion from me which of course I didn’t have. She was new to Fairview High this year, and I had to wonder what she was doing, and if she realized how stupid it was to get on Marco’s bad side.
“Kat? You and Kat?”
“She and Kat need to study for Chem,” Kat said in her sassy way, with a quick glance at my books. “Because I just don’t get it. So…if you’d just turn her loose, I’d sure appreciate it.”
Kat is pretty. There’s just no other way to see it. She’s got this gorgeous café au lait skin, light green eyes, and lots of dark brown curls. When she turned that pretty smile on Marco, I felt his grip go slack.
Then I, being an idiot as I might have mentioned, glanced at Dylan again, to see if he’d noticed Kat’s smile. Which he did, and was now paying attention to the drama. I wondered how many more people were, now that Kat was there.
“Chemistry. I’ll bet there’s some chemistry goin’ on there. I’d like to see some of that action. Maybe the three of us—“
“Marco, honey, I’m gonna have to wreck your fantasy and tell you that not only are Joss and I not involved with each other, and not only are we both straight—which you’d think any straight guy would realize—but I would do her and half the guys at this table before I would even let you watch me change my shoes.”
Eric opened his mouth to say something but Kat immediately cut him off, “No, Eric. You’re in the other half.” But I have to say that the smile she threw him made me think maybe that wasn’t true.
While they all sat there digesting that, Kat gave me a tug that almost spilled my books again. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself pushed into a chair at Kat’s table which was full of girls whose names and faces I’d known for years. But I’d never spoken more than a few words to any of them. They were all looking from me to Kat and back again.
“You guys all know Joss, right?”
There were another few awkward moments as the girls muttered and nodded. Then they sort of shrugged and turned back to each other and whatever they’d been talking about before. Backs on either end of the circle turned away from Kat and me, leaving us relatively alone.
“You know that was stupid, right?” I said in a low voice. “Trust me, you do not want to get on Marco’s bad side.”
“Well hey, you’re welcome.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’m sure Marco will totally lay off now that you diffused that situation so brilliantly.”
“Wow. I’ve been wondering if you’re really the ice bitch everyone says you are.”
“Yeah, well, now you know.” I started to get up, but Kat put a hand on my arm.
“I’m not sure I do...”
Two of the girls switched seats and Heather pulled her chair up alongside Kat’s. Heather was petite and adorable, and just needed a few feathers and fringes to make her look like a Native American princess figurine in a gift shop. I wondered again why I was still there.
“So what was that about? Marco being Marco?”
“Yeah, he seems especially fond of Joss, here.”
Heather made a sound in the back of her throat. “I hate that guy.”
She looked across at me, an intense look that made me feel like she was seeing too much. I dropped my eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
Kat’s next remark about Marco’s attitude, anatomy, and possible parentage made Heather laugh out loud and even I had to smile.
On possibly the worst day ever, Jocelyn Marshall was sitting in the cafeteria talking to two other girls.
Smiling.
And violations of the Laws of the Universe were just getting started.
…Thank you for reading this excerpt of Hush Money by Susan Bischoff. For more information about the author and the Talent Chronicles series, please visit http://www.susan-bischoff.com.
Excerpt from
Jenny Pox
by J.L. Bryan
CHAPTER ONE
Jenny sat in the red dirt and played with a plastic dinosaur. She liked the front yard, with all its mysteries--the high clumps of weeds, the big fallen-over tree trunk shaggy with scrub growth, the shiny bottles and cans Daddy left everywhere. She liked all the funny pieces of machinery and broken furniture around the shed. People brought things to Daddy’s shed, and he fixed them, sometimes. Daddy was a Handy Man, except when he was Drinking.
Jenny heard a funny, shaking noise, like one of the old rattle toys in her room. It was from somewhere near the fallen tree. Maybe on the other side of it.
She crawled on the sandy, oil-stained dirt, through high weeds. She startled a chipmunk near her knee and he skittered away from her. She giggled at the funny little striped creature.
The rattle sounded again and she crawled to the tree. She turned and crawled along its length, stopping every foot or so to poke her fingers into the weeds and ivy that had grown over the fallen tree’s bark. She pulled aside stringy plants to peer into dark places under the tree, and she squinted her eyes to peer into knotholes.
She found the place where a narrow, weed-choked gully had washed out underneath the trunk, creating a kind of dark cave underneath. She leaned her face in close, cupping her hands around her eyes to try and shield out the sun. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard the rattle again, longer and louder this time, from the darkness right in front of her nose. It was in there somewhere.
She reached her hand deep into the gully, pushing and tearing through thick weeds. The rattling grew louder. She touched something cool and muscular. It pulled away from her fingers, and now the rattle went crazy. She reached her arm all the way into the narrow gully, up to her shoulder. Her fingers brushed the mysterious muscular thing again, and again it pulled back. She pawed around in the dirt. She could hear it rattling, but she couldn’t find it again.
She wondered if it had moved all the way to the other side of the tree. Maybe she could find it over there. Jenny drew her hand out of the gully. She scrabbled up onto the trunk, which was nearly as high as she was, clawing her way to the top with her fingernails and toenails. She leaned out over the other side of the tree, looking among the weeds and brown bottles, her bare feet dangling in the air behind her.
She tilted forward until her head was almost upside down, her thick black hair hanging down like streamers. She watched it emerge from the gully. Triangular head, black eyes. Its head looked like her dinosaur toy. Its body looked like a living piece of rope, unspooling from underneath the trunk to slither off through high weeds and towards the woods, where Jenny wasn’t allowed to go. Its long body kept coming out and out, and Jenny snickered. The creature was just so long, it was almost silly.
Its skin was olive, with pretty black diamonds all over its back. Jenny reached down and ran her fingers along it as it passed. It writhed at her touch and gave another long rattle. She wrapped her fingers around its body and picked it up to play with it, thinking it would be a good friend for her dinosaur. And she liked that rattley sound, it was like whispering, like telling secrets.
Its head arched up and twisted around to face her. It opened his jaw and hissed, revealing huge fangs.
Jenny shrieked and tumbled backward off the fallen tree. One hand tightened its grip on the ropey creature, while her other hand grabbed uselessly at the air for something to stop her fall.
She landed hard on the dirt, flat on her back, dragging the long creature over the tree with her, and its long body landed across her stomach. It was thrashing hard and rattling faster, and she could see the rattle now, a fat cone of shell-like rings at the tail end.
She lifted the creature’s long belly off her with both hands. The fanged head raised up, dripping fluid from its teeth, and then swooped towards her bare, dirt-crusted left foot. She cried out as the head struck her ankle.
But it didn’t bite her. Instead, its head slid off her leg and into the dirt, and Jenny held her breath and watched it, keeping herself very still. The creature didn’t move again.
Along the segment of the snake’s body that drooped between her hands, its scaly skin had busted open all over and dark blood seeped out. The blistering infection spread out along its skin in both directions from her hands, towards its head and towards its tail. All her fingers felt sticky and gross.
Jenny dropped the snake in the dirt and crawled over to the tail end. She tapped the rattle, but the snake didn’t react. She picked up the rattle end and shook it, and it made the funny sound. She giggled.
Excited now, her fright already fading, Jenny jumped to her feet and ran toward the front porch, dragging the long dead snake behind her. She stopped at the porch steps and shook the rattle again.
“Daddy!” she called, not sure if he were awake yet. “Daddy daddy!”
Daddy didn’t answer. She went up the three steps and through the open front door.
Daddy was snoring on the couch, in front of a heap of shiny silver cans and an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table. Jenny grabbed his arm—careful to touch only the sleeve, not the skin—and shook him.
“Daddy! Toy!” she screamed at his heavily stubbled, drooling face. She shook the rattle at him. “Daddy!”
“Wha…?” His eyes eased open, bleary and unfocused.
“Toy!” Jenny gave the rattle a good, hard shake to really make her point.
Now Daddy’s eyes snapped open wide and she could see all the little red veins in them. He smacked Jenny’s hand, hard, slapping the snake rattle out of it. The snake tail flopped to the floor while he snatched Jenny up onto the couch, putting her behind himself and away from the new toy. The shock of the slap wore off and bright red pain flared up to replace it, and Jenny started crying.
Daddy looked along the length of the snake. Its head lay just inside the front door.
“Did you kill it, Jenny?” he asked. This only made her cry harder. She’d thought the snake was more of a toy than a live animal.
Daddy chucked an empty beer can at the snake. The can struck the creature’s body, then rolled across the floor and stopped against the far baseboard, where it would remain for several months. The snake didn’t respond to this insult.
“Stay here!” Daddy said. He stepped over the snake’s body and crossed to the fireplace, where he fiddled with the rack of fireplace tools. Jenny saw his right hand, the one that had slapped the rattle from her. He had only touched her for a second, but that w
as enough to give him bleeding blisters all over his palm.
He took the fireplace shovel, walked to the snake’s head, and stabbed down through its neck. The shovel bit into the hardwood floor. He scraped the snake’s head forward, separating it from its body. Dark blood leaked onto the dusty floorboards.
Jenny drew her knees to her chest and kept sobbing. She felt guilty. She’d made Daddy mad. And she felt bad for the snake. She shouldn’t have touched it.
Daddy scraped up the snake’s head onto the shovel and carried it outside. Then he came back for the body.
He looked at Jenny and sighed. He looked tired, and a little pale and sick. Jenny couldn’t stop crying.
“Gonna be okay, baby,” he said. He ran to the kitchen and washed his hands, and poured some of the icky brown stuff for scrapes onto his open sores, the sores he’d gotten from touching Jenny. He sighed in relief. “You just stay where you’re at and don’t go nowhere. Stay!”
He went into the back of the house, where the bedrooms were, and returned wearing a long-sleeve orange Clemson shirt and cloth gardening gloves. He shook out his red cloth mask and slid it down over his head. It had only two tiny holes for eyes, and one tiny hole over his mouth. It was his Cuddle Mask.
He helped Jenny put on her own fuzzy pink cotton gloves. Then he shook out her little yellow Cuddle Mask and slid it slowly down over her head, taking care not to tangle or pull her hair. He straightened the mouth hole so Jenny could breathe, and then the eyes holes so Jenny could see.
Now he could pick her up and set her in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his shirt, listening to his heartbeat, smelling his stale sweat. Her sobbing finally began to subside.
“See, Jenny?” He rubbed the back of her head, through his glove, through her mask. “It’s okay now. That was a diamondback rattler, a big one. You got to stay away from snakes, especially the rattling kind. Okay? They’re poisonous.”
Zellie Wells Trilogy (Glimpse, Glimmer, Glow) Page 50
