My eyes met John's over Jade's head. He was thinking the same thing I was; Carson with me and Brett with the girls. Bad news.
Principal Avers added, “Disperse to your respective buildings. You have five minutes. Line up outside the door to be scanned.”
That meant the disc that all of us had located behind our ear would be scanned for attendance, admittance, and later, tracking and information.
I jammed the pill inside my mouth and dry swallowed it. I used the commotion of everyone wandering around, acting like I was coughing in my hand. Dad had told me that I couldn't be too paranoid, maybe there were pulse sensors or pulse-digis recording all our moves. I did okay.
I turned to Jonesy. “Can you sit next to the girls?”
He nodded, serious for once. “Yeah, I know Brett's in there.”
“I think it'll be okay but he's riding on the edge, I don't know what'll set him off.”
“Will do,” he said, nodding as he walked toward Bravo.
Jade gave me the press of her lips like butterfly wings on my cheek, then was gone. No PDAs in the school, but she chanced it anyway. I smiled down at her, squeezing her hand as her fingers slid slowly out of mine. I watched her walk away, Sophie flanking her out of nowhere.
John came up beside me. “She'll be okay.”
That was one of those lies that I let John tell. A lie of comfort. I felt like nothing was going to be okay. We walked to our buildings, separating at the last minute. My friends were counting on me.
I was counting on me too.
“Good luck,” John said.
“You too,” I replied.
****
The slim paddle hovered behind my ear for about two seconds and the school nurse said, “Hart, cleared.” like she'd said about the other fifty kids before me.
I was definitely feeling high. Or something, I'd never been high. If I really wanted to get high someday, I could wait until I turned twenty-one and jump into any of the drug bars and have at it. But, having a scientist for a father was an advantage. Dad had outlined drug use and consequence. I had a fuzzy warm feeling that was a blanket of tranquility. The buzzing from the dead was down to a manageable roar. Low frequency, that was a dead giveaway I was floating on the cerebral pond.
We sat in our assigned seats, everyone in attendance. Not surprising given it was mandatory by law that all children at age thirteen by August thirty-first of the current school year must take the AP Test; even the home schooled kids. I guess that guaranteed the puberty net would be flung wide. But the reality was, kids were slipping through. There had to be other kids that were starting to manifest (like me) their abilities sooner than August thirty-first.
Puberty had its own clock.
My floating cloud of warmth was momentarily interrupted as an AP Test supervisor handed out, with two assistants, slim pulse-pads. They same thickness of our pulse-phones, but the dimensions were the same as Mom's old-fashioned paperback books.
I stared at mine in front of me, just a blank screen with a thumb pad, my head filled with cotton.
Once all the pulse-pads were distributed, the testing supervisor instructed, “Please depress your thumb on the pad and think your identity and pertinent information. You have eight seconds, begin.”
Great personality, this one.
I did as instructed:
Caleb Hart, Age 14, Kent Middle School, King County, Washington.
The screen lay black, then:
Confirmed.
I looked around, my thick brain swimming with the movement. I got a bearing on Carson. He was already looking at me, making sure none of the adults were watching, he gave me the middle finger salute.
So consistent.
I stared at him, such a moron. But... a powerful one. He'd spend the next four years in a fire-proofed classroom and I wouldn't be in it--I smiled.
That confused the dolt for a second, then the instructor spoke again, “You'll be asked a series of questions. All answers will be confirmed as valid. There is obviously no way to cheat.” I was overwhelmed with an insane urge to laugh, high as a kite that I was, “and all areas of aptitude will be identified. Make your best effort to offer concise, short answers. Keep your thought processes clear of extraneous thinking.”
Translation: don't think about anything fun or what you'd rather be doing.
“One more thing,” she paused, she had our full attention, then said and odd thing, “there will be control questions inserted that must be answered even if they seem to be unrelated to the main body of testing.”
What the hell did that mean?
I began digging into the test questions, thinking my responses. I felt decidedly dull. But Dad was right, the half dose allowed me to think and answer, so far...no-retard. I didn't have nervousness either. I could feel wanting to stress about my AFTD but the drug kept emotions under control. Sweet.
A lot of standard Math and Science questions answered, we began verbal. Then this question out of nowhere: How do you feel about things that have died?
That's one of the questions that didn't fit.
I had an instant stab of dread but thought: Good.
The moment I answered there was a burst of the buzzing that the dead emanate followed by what could only be described as a drain of energy.
The instructor came to my desk. I looked up.
Crap.
“We need you to change buildings.”
I replied carefully, drug befuddled, “But this is the building for my name.”
A condescending smile appeared. “We're aware of that, but some of your responses have alerted us that the remainder of your testing will be administered at an alternate location.”
I wasn't the only kid. Carson and about ten other kids were herded by assistants, who must have leaked out of walls, because there were more than the original two.
I scanned the group of kids, now disrupted by our leaving, their faces wary.
The instructor, who remained nameless, addressed the class, “please continue with your questions, this interruption will be as brief as possible. Your first break will be in,” she glanced at the pulse clock, which counted backwards, “five minutes.”
I stood unsteadily, feeling woozy and she gave me a penetrating look. I gathered myself together to appear alert. She didn't know me well enough to determine if I was sleepy or there was more to it.
There was definitely more to it.
We were ushered back into the commons, pulse-pads in hand. There was another head honcho guy out there and I saw through my semi-drug fog two other instructors, one for Bravo and Charlie, and a butt-load of assistants.
“This group,” waving dismissively at us, “will be escorted to Delta.” It was taken totally for granted that everyone would cooperate with His Authority.
It made me want to do the opposite.
We followed the instructors in a loose group, the assistants flanking and following. Scanning the area I saw Tiff and John! I assumed that we pinged paranormal and that was why we were getting moved. What the hell was John doing here? We looked at each other and he jerked his shoulders up around his ears like, I don't understand either.
I didn't make an effort to hide my curiosity, looking around for Jade. I caught sight of her and a tight spot in my chest loosened, she smiled back. And Sophie! But Brett and Jonesy weren't a part of our group. Didn't matter, I was relieved to have John, Jade, and even Tiff in my sights. I didn't really know Sophie but figured she was okay because she was Jade's friend. I tried to remember with a brain made fuzzy if Jade had ever made any comment about her. I couldn't think of anything; another wild card.
We walked through Delta's doors, settling into a group of about seventy or so seats, filling only half of those.
We were arranged alphabetically. That put me real close to Carson with only one kid separating us. It was Alex. Alex of the bad piano playing. We gave the guy-nod.
Head Honcho turned to us. “I am the instructor for this building. You have all bee
n moved here because your responses indicate paranormal aptitude.”
Yeah, duh.
“We will resume your testing in,” he looked at the pulse clock, “approximately three minutes and change.”
Another inappropriate urge to laugh came over me, which I eliminated by biting the inside of my cheek until the copper taste of my own blood silenced it. I ducked my head, my hair sliding into my eyes. My cheek hurt like hell.
We took stock of each other. It was weird, the students knew it was a “sanctioned” thing, the testing, but the testers were super-spy about it; leaving a taste of underhandedness. It intensified my paranoia.
There was a skeletal guy leaning against a kids sized desk angled into the corner, drumming his long, tapered fingers against its edge, all dark planes with a complexion to match. His fingers were stained yellow with a grayish skin cast. He was rich (and don't forget dumb) or he wouldn't be smoking.
Head Honcho went to him, fingers nervously stroking his tie. Their heads were bent together, those fingers going up and down, up and down. They paused in conversation then looked up at our group. We weren't allowed to talk but some kids were nervously looking around, others looked bored. They seemed to stare straight at me but I knew that could have been Carson or Alex too. But somehow, I knew it was me. AFTD was so rare, I'd be the star of the show.
A chime sounded. Gaunt-man lounged in his corner and Head Honcho worked over his tie one more time, moving to the front where our desks were assembled.
“You've answered a satisfactory amount of academic questions and we have a strong idea of where each of you fall in these categories,” he paused for effect. “This building is being utilized to further gauge your individual potentials for each paranormal ability you have manifested.”
Creeper-factor of about ten.
“Each one of you will have a series of control questions interspersed with academic questions. These questions are tailored according to your individual gifts. Each year, we are always surprised by a new ability or 'branch',” he made airquotes, “which will manifest in a student, or one that is not easily quantified.”
Blah, blah, blah, let's just get on with it, I thought sullenly. It didn't matter that he felt better about explaining things to us. I understood everything: they knew what each of us was. They were going to test us for that specific thing, and there may be some kid that gives them a whammy of surprise with a yet unknown ability.
Marvelous for them.
He finally shut up and our pulse-pads came back to life with a press of the thumb.
Useless question after question appeared. Most seemed standard but a few were funny:
How dumb was that? What were you supposed to say?
They need the tomahawk?
This was a control question. I bet they had people in windowless rooms without food that thought this crap up.
Another laughable one was:
Real answer: they suck, of course.
But, I realized, even in my semi-stupor, that I had to play into what the adults wanted me to say but not be too obvious about it.
This was actually hard. Until most recently, I could have answered pretty honestly. Now, I didn't feel like all adults were to be trusted. I glanced at the clock, realizing this last part of the testing was almost over for lunch. Lunch would be served in the testing building. After all, they couldn't let us teens fraternize during testing day. Oh-no.
Finally, I answered:
Cryptic but honest and not TMI.
I was deciding the last answer, thinking about changing it, but the pulse chimed. I depressed my thumb and my answer floated away to be cataloged as my response, for better or worse.
****
I was wrong, lunch wasn't served in the testing rooms, it was in the cafeteria, like usual. At every door stood what I was thinking of as “formula-people.” They all wore the same adult get-up of tie and suit or skirt and sensible shoes.
The Js, Jade and Sophie had all shown up and we snagged one of the coveted round tables. These were best because I could see everyone when we talked and keep things private. Or more private, the noisier the better.
I did a room search for Carson, spying him with Brett and some other standard losers at a table opposite ours.
Jonesy unraveled his gigantic lunch, John and I watching with interest. His lunchbox was kinda like Dad's; a huge rectangular tin thing with a flat bottom. It had been red once but had faded to a dull, rust color.
First, the thermos came out with what I was sure was a quart of milk, then two sandwiches bursting with lunch meat, a half bag of these gross chips called Funyuns that made your breath reek like ass but tasted strangely good. Finally, the grand dessert finale was a fat brownie full of disgusting walnuts.
The girls watched this with various degrees of disgust. They had about the same lunch stuff as each other. Jade pulled out a small recyclable container that had some disgusting salad thing with tiny chunks of chicken mixed in. I looked over the top of it and quickly grabbed her spork and did a full search for anything substantial and couldn't find dick. Where was the dessert? Sophie had about the same thing but hers was some noodle-salad casserole that smelled like rotting mayonnaise.
John, after surveying the lunches said, “Jonesy, look at what the girls eat, maybe you could get a clue.”
Jonesy sniffed Sophie's casserole. “I wouldn't eat that stuff if someone pressed a gun barrel to my head.”
John nodded in approval, Jonesy would tell it.
Jade sniffed, replying with dignity, “Well, you go ahead and eat three meals in one. Sophie and I will eat healthy.”
John looked down at his lunch, which mimicked Jonesy's, but no grodie nut-brownie, he had an awesome chocolate chip cookie, and shrugged.
I laughed, mealtime was interesting.
We all started eating and I asked John, “So what gives? You hit the radar as something, 'cuz you're in our building.”
We looked expectantly at John.
A slow flush crept up his face, he wasn't used to the attention, but he rallied.“I don't know. I thought there was a bunch of control questions, and academic questions, but there wasn't anything that I thought was paranormal.”
What was he?
Then, our heads swiveled to Sophie, who had just shoveled a bite into her mouth, a small lump protruding from her cheek. We waited until she swallowed.
“What?” she asked.
“Well, what about you?” I inquired.
Jade gave a nervous glance her way.
She knew what Sophie was.
The Js were all curiosity when she admitted, “I guess I have some Astral-Projection.”
“Some?” Jade stated.
Sophie glanced down, her tight curls cascading froward, almost brushing that nasty casserole.
“Maybe a little more than some,” she mumbled.
Jade gave her a tense look, leaning forward she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered something inside her ear.
Sophie looked around nervously then stared at each one of us.
“You can't tell anyone,” she directed, looking pointedly at Jonesy.
“I'm not going to say anything!” he all-but-shrieked.
We all gave a big sigh.
Jonesy leaned forward. “So barf it out. If it's not so juicy you think I'll blab.” A wide grin appeared in the middle of his chocolate colored face. He crossed his arms on his chest, but not before popping another one of the Funyuns in his mouth.
John breathed out, “Wow... Astral-Projection.” Yeah, that was pretty cool I agreed mentally.
Sophie gave him a sharp look and he held out his palm out, go ahead.
“So, it's like this. About a month ago I started dreaming I was traveling to all these places, far away places,” she looked at us all,
“like Europe.”
We stared back and shrugged, so?
“Remember in History class when a bunch of us came in with the CE about the assassination?”
John nodded. “I did my current event on that President.”
“The French one?” Jade clarified.
“The Prime Minister,” Sophie said, exasperated.
“Right, Prime Minister, my bad,” John said, embarrassed. He of the Perfect Grade Point Average, making a mistake! Unheard of.
I cupped my hand over my mouth, hiding a grin. Jade smiled, letting it show all over her face while Sophie looked smug.
John's pale complexion flamed to life again. Being a known brain-iac only to be shown up by Sophie, a girl no less!
“Anyway,” Sophie waved the awkward moment away with a hand, “I was there,” she said in a low voice.
Jonesy leaned all the way forward. “You mean... there, there? Like, as in, Astral-Projection there?”
We held our breath. Sophie nodded, once.
“Well... damn, girl, no wonder you aced that CE! Cheater!” Jonesy said, throwing up his hands.
John and I nodded emphatically, it must've been an advantage.
We were quite for a moment, then John said, “But, they don't know who did it.”
Jonesy yelled, “Do you?!”
“Shhh, Jonesy... God!” Jade said.
Jonesy looked right and left, making sure his yelling got sucked into the general din of cafeteria noise.
“Chillax, nobody heard.” Jonesy leaned back in his seat, all relaxed and everything. The bigness of situations didn't impact the Jonester.
“We need to be circumspect,” Sophie said.
Jonesy and I were confused, John nodded and Jade waited.
“Secretive and cautious,” Sophie expounded.
“More big boy words for you Jonesy,” I said.
“Can it, Hart, you didn't know what it meant either,” Jonesy growled.
He had me there.
“Off topic guys,” John said. “So... you know, Sophie?”
“Know what?”
“Who did it,” Jade stated.
“Yeah.”
“Who?” Jonesy leaned forward again.
Death Whispers (Death Series, Book 1) Page 21
