Ten minutes later, I sat in his office, a bag of ice pressed against a throbbing bruise on my thigh. Carson continued to chuckle sitting behind his desk.
“You’ll laugh when it heals. Trust me.”
I grunted in response and added a little more pressure to the ice bag.
Carson leaned in with a gleam in his eye.
“It happened again, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, I activated.”
Carson, the assistant under Coach Schmick, was one of the many undercover protectors working for my family. I didn’t know it until he came down to the locker room after halftime of my first Strange Country Day football game as I watched a mysterious man trying to break into my locker. Carson pulled out a gun and chased the intruder away. It was comforting to have someone to confide in aside from my parents, Dex, and Sophi.
“First time since the championship game?”
“Nah, once before that. I threw a snowball at Dex that triggered it.”
He leaned back in his chair and considered it for a moment.
“How’d you do it?”
He’s certainly taking quite an interest in my powers.
“I don’t know, actually. Today, I just visualized hitting a serve, took a deep breath, and it happened.”
Carson got up from his chair and walked over to a photo recently added to a collection of shots and awards on the wall. It depicted me, Dex, and Jimmy Claw, all being carried by our teammates in front of the packed Strange Country Day crowd screaming for us as Claw held up the championship trophy.
“Ptuiac, do you realize what you have inside of you?”
Well, yeah, a bunch of teeny machines. He turned around walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“You have a golden ticket,” he continued. “You can be a star someday. You can live out any football dream you’ve had. Did you know I got a call the other day from an assistant coach at a top-level college program?”
I was too stunned to respond.
“I told him, ‘The sky’s the limit with this kid. He’s going places.’ I truly believe that. You just have to keep cashing in on that golden ticket and keep learning how to control your, er, talents.”
I snapped out of the daydream of winning a college bowl game and getting drafted by a pro team.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
He squatted down in front of my chair to get to eye level.
“We’ve had that discussion before and you and I both know it’s too late for that kind of talk. If you want to hand back that trophy, go ahead and try. You used the powers in public, now you have to keep showing that throw wasn’t a fluke.”
Did I? I was so confused.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, sitting back behind his desk. “So what if your parents found a drone? Nothing has changed. We’re still going be chased and I’m here to protect you, along with many others. This is the hand you’ve been dealt. Enjoy it while you still can and if you want to play tennis, go ahead.”
The bruise throbbed in response. “I was thinking of playing something else to pass the time before football season,” I replied. “But what about Coach Schmick?”
He held up a hand. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just looking out for his team. I’ve told him that another sport would be beneficial to your growth as an athlete. It’ll give you some confidence, keep you in better shape and keep you distracted from all this stuff happening. Plus, you get to practice this new control over your power. Trust me.”
This was the same Coach Carson who had helped me become a better quarterback and who keeps me alive on a daily basis. That made him trustworthy, right? Right?
“Can I make a suggestion?” he continued. “Have you thought about pitching? It’ll help build up your arm strength.”
I was obviously more passionate about football, but baseball was a close second. Though I’d never thrown a pitch at a high level, I wasn’t as nervous about the idea as I might have been in the past.
“Sure.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve got an old friend living nearby who’s a pitching coach. He’s kind of … unconventional, but you’ll like him. I’ll send you …”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. I was too busy struggling with what he was telling me. I’m supposed to use my powers to keep up appearances? Wasn’t that considered cheating on the field? What about this big-time college coach asking about me?
“Ptuiac. Tooey. Hey.” Snap-snap-snap went Carson’s fingers to get my attention again. “What did I tell you? Trust me. If there’s anyone who knows what’s best for you, it’s me.”
I walked out of Carson’s office a few minutes later with my head spinning when I felt the coach’s hand on my shoulder.
“You forgot this.” He held out my backpack.
Where is my head at today?
CHAPTER SIX
“Trust me, you don’t want to see the bruise. It’s nasty.”
I told Sophi and Dex about my eventful afternoon as we trekked through the cold to our local mall.
“Ugh, awful,” Sophi said, squeezing my hand. “But it’s exciting that you’ll get to play another sport while you wait for football season to start.”
“Yeah, and way cooler that you got your powers to work again,” Dex said as we pushed open the glass doors.
“It’s totally weird, though,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m doing to make them come back.”
“You should use them to climb up that thing,” Dex replied.
He pointed up at the scene in front of us: the mall was set up with stores six stories high in a circle with a gaping hole in the middle. Filling up the center of the space was a ropes course for kids (with their nervous parents watching) attached to safety harnesses who made their way up and down a complex maze of slides, rope ladders, and rickety bridges. There were also various bored-looking teens in orange shirts keeping an eye on safety. It didn’t look like it was worth the $5 to pay for admission, but before we could decide on our next move, someone grabbed my shoulder.
“Fellas! Cute chick!”
Kenny Lupino, ladies and gentlemen. My blood boiled when he flirted with Sophi, who gave him a big smile. She must have seen a look of disgust cross my face because she mouthed, “BE. NICE.” Dex and I weren’t sold on him yet—so far, he’d done nothing but sneak up on us. He also seemed too relaxed, especially after the revelations we delivered to him recently. A small hiss escaped out of the corner of Dex’s mouth.
“Where’s our first stop?” I asked, trying to make conversation as we headed up the escalator and watched kids of all ages climb the ropes course.
“I dunno,” Kenny answered. “The arcade’s always fun. It’s up on the top floor.”
Sophi and I exchanged an amused look. An arcade in the city was the one of the sites of our first date months ago. Her powers kicked in there a few times and ended up interfering with a few of the games we played.
It was that same date during which we’d repeatedly spotted a man with jet-black hair with a white patch on the side. He’d appeared everywhere: the train ride into the city, an art gallery downtown, and the aforementioned arcade.
That night, Dad revealed why I had powers and a group of security guards wherever me and my friends went. He and Mom were concerned about “Patch” but ultimately decided he wasn’t a threat. We hadn’t seen him since.
We made our way up to the sixth floor and headed toward a neon sign reading, “Game On.” Dex elbowed my ribs as four girls from school walked toward us. They were part of the popular clique and all had a similar look at school: heavy makeup, perfect hair every day (even in gym class), and smiles fixed by orthodontists to perfection. They weren’t in school uniforms, instead sporting jeans and sweaters. One of them—I didn’t remember their names, they all blended together—zeroed in on me as they approached. I’d never spoken to any of them, let alone had one looked my way.
“Hey, Alex,” she said,
flashing a million-dollar (that’s how much it must have cost) smile. The group giggled as they passed us.
Zzzzzztt.
Sophi’s left handed subtly pointed at the girl as the sound of a static shock pierced the air. The girl who greeted me let out a yip and jumped, rubbing her hand. I turned to look at Sophi.
“Don’t. Even.” She glared at the girl.
Dex and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Chica, you are the textbook definition of a firecracker,” Kenny said.
I put my arm around Sophi. “Best girlfriend ever.”
“Glad you said that,” she replied. “You’re going to go in here and try some shirts on.”
She gestured to the trendy clothing store next to the arcade.
“Shopping? Now? No way.”
Kenny and Dex looked at each other. “Play me in air hockey, dude,” Kenny said, pushing Dex into the arcade against his will.
“Come on, occasionally, I want to see you in something without a sports logo on it.”
I knew I didn’t have a choice.
We walked into the store and Sophi grabbed a shirt off one of the racks, held it up, nodded, and pointed me toward the changing room.
I pulled the door shut and dropped my heavy backpack on the floor. Sophi tossed a pair of jeans over the door. “Try those too.”
I took off my faded Peyton Manning Denver Broncos long-sleeved shirt—a tribute to my all-time favorite quarterback—and tried on a yellow, blue and green-striped rugby shirt. I hated to admit it, but I looked good.
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv. Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv. Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv.
That was my cell phone vibrating. I patted my pockets and pulled it out. But it wasn’t ringing.
The buzzing was coming from my backpack.
I opened one of the zippers and dug out a cell phone. It obviously wasn’t mine. Had someone dropped it in there by accident? No. The number calling me was marked, “PICK UP ALEX.” My hands started shaking, but I followed the instruction.
“Hello?”
A deep male voice at the other end answered. “Alex, you don’t have time. You and your friends are in immediate danger.”
“Who are you?”
“I’ll explain later. You need to go. Now. There’s someone meeting you outside the store wearing a leather jacket with a rose on the back.”
Click.
If my heart was pounding the night of the championship game, it was threatening to leap out of my chest now. I burst out the door of the changing room.
“Sophi!” She looked up from another rack. “We have to go. Now.”
“Wait, what?”
I grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out the door. The security alarm in the store went off since I was still wearing the unpurchased shirt and an employee shouted, “Hey!”
A few yards away, there he was. A man with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes and a leather jacket with a large rose patch on the back. I skidded to a stop with Sophi as he looked down at us. Something didn’t seem right.
“Alex, what is it?” Sophi asked, looking suspiciously at the man staring at us.
What was I doing? Suddenly, I remembered what I should have asked the voice on the other phone.
“What’s the fastest way down?”
“Quicksand,” he replied quickly. “Come on.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, a man in navy blue “Mall Security” coat tackled Rose Jacket. Another mall security cop or one of our guards headed our way to help as a crowd formed. Dex and Kenny came out of the arcade to watch as the leather jacket man wriggled away from the guards and looked around for an escape. His right hand shot to his left arm, near his elbow. He used his thumb to press something underneath his jacket.
With his hat knocked off his head, his eyeballs become slits. He let out a hiss at the gawking onlookers and bared his teeth. At that moment, he looked like a half-man, half-wild beast. For a moment, he was cornered, until he decided to leap over the barrier toward the ropes course.
We all ran to the edge as the sound of kids screaming pierced the air. I was sure he’d fall to his doom, but he was incredible—he caught himself on of the ropes, avoided kids along the way while swinging down to the railings, shimmied down a slide and landed perfectly on the ground floor.
Someone over my shoulder said, “I’ll get him.” The next thing I knew, another person leaped over the barrier and down. Kenny! I heard more screams as we watched him scale the course even quicker than our assailant and down to the lobby, just on the tail of the intruder that had the right answer to my family’s very secret password.
I looked down at the cell phone in my hand, trying to keep it safe for my dad to analyze when I got home. In that moment, the temperature increased tenfold, making the device too hot for me to hold. I yelped and dropped it to the floor where it started shooting sparks and burst into flames.
Members of the crowd, held at bay by more security guards, pointed at me. “That’s the kid …” I heard, along with snatches of “touchdown,” “Griffins,” and “quarterback.”
Just then, I spied a familiar face, one I hadn’t seen since my first date with Sophi. A middle-aged man with jet-black hair stared at me through the crowd. I couldn’t see the left side of his head, but I didn’t need to. I knew it was the Man with the White Patch, wearing a black trench coat, staring right at me. A second later, he whirled around, his coat flying dramatically behind him, and walked away briskly, blending into the crowd.
CHAPTER SEVEN
You are the bait for whoever is out there.
Mom’s voice reverberated through my head as I grunted through another set of standing biceps curls in Strange Country Day’s weight room after final period. The mall incident terrified me, no matter how brave I was about being the lure for whoever was coming after my family and friends. I’d barely been able to sleep, I messed up or forgot homework assignments, and I found myself looking over my shoulder every five minutes. White Patch resurfaced, though my father kept trying to convince me I was seeing things. “Paranoia will do that to you,” he said.
The most vital takeaway from the mall incident? Someone knew our password. It meant there was a mole in our midst.
C’mon, Alex, concentrate. Seven … eight … nine … ten reps. I couldn’t be any less focused on the workout despite the fact that I was supposed to meet with my new pitching coach in a couple of days. Coach Carson told me I had to begin getting into shape again. Who could think about working out when I was nearly abducted?
Whoever is after us wants the technology you and your friends have.
There’s Mom’s voice again.
The technology. You understand, Alex? Alex?
“Alex. Alex? Hello! Freak!”
I nearly dropped the weight on my foot as I snapped to attention and looked in the mirror. Flab.
“You shouldn’t daydream and lift at the same time, bro,” he said, sitting down on a bench near me.
“I wasn’t dreaming. I was—”
“—freaking out about what happened at the mall.”
Word spread quickly around school and town about the incident. We told anyone who asked that we’d nearly been mugged in front of the arcade.
“I’m fine.”
Flab got up and grabbed a massive 60-pound weight off the rack near the mirror and began lifting it with two hands behind his head, barely looking like he was breaking a sweat.
“Hey, I’d feel the same way if I were you, especially if it was in front of my girlfriend and I couldn’t stop the guy.”
He must have seen my glare in the mirror.
“Just kidding, Tooey. Relax.”
I still couldn’t do that around Flab, no matter what he said.
“What are you in here for? I start seriously lifting for late summer practice in like June. I’m in here just for fun,” he said as he walked over to a set of long, heavy ropes attached to the floor and began whipping them in rhythm.
“I’m training to be a pitcher.”
Thwack-thwack. Thwack-thwack. Again, I wasn’t sure how he wasn’t soaked in sweat. “Baseball? Not enough contact for me. Coach is letting you do it?”
I began another set of curls. “Can’t (grunt) stop (grunt) me.”
He jumped in front of me, startling me again. “Whoa, Freak. Look in the side mirror when you’re doing those. You’re not supposed to move your back while working biceps. It means you’re using too much weight.”
I dropped the bar just far enough away from where he was standing, though he jumped back anyway. Flab sat on the bench again, craning his neck around to see if anyone could hear him.
“I heard that Lupino kid was with you?”
“So?”
Flab’s massive body suddenly loomed over me. He leaned his face near mine, the smell of that day’s turkey meatloaf with heirloom tomato gravy emitting from his mouth as he breathed heavily.
“Why would you hang out with, let alone trust the guy who played for our rival and injured our quarterback? I’ve seen that kid around town a couple of times, he just looks shady.”
True, there was something a little off about Kenny. I took a step away from Flab. “I think he’s hitting on Sophi.”
Whap. He slapped my shoulder a little too hard. “See? Seriously, he’s bad news. Think about it, too. What if people start seeing you guys hanging out all the time? They say, ‘Oh, isn’t that the same kid who helped take out Jimmy Claw in the title game, and all of a sudden they’re holding hands in the mall?”
I averted Flab’s gaze. He was right, but I couldn’t tell him the real reason Kenny and I were hanging out together.
“Listen, kid,” he said as he turned his attention to the bench press. “I don’t like to talk about stuff like this, but whatever. What happened in first semester is done. I’m past it. What you and Shrimp did … the team can’t repay you enough. Our last season in middle school football and you single-handedly delivered a ring. So, if you need anything, we’re here. That includes dealing with this.”
“Now,” he added, lying down under the bench press bar on which hung two enormous metal weights. “Come spot me. If you drop it on my face, forget everything I just said.”
The Impossible Pitcher Page 4
