“I want to give you both a mission.”
Well, that’s unexpected. I wield my sub like a club and hit it into my hand a few times. I seriously doubt Jefferson would change his mind so quickly and give us what we’ve wanted all along.
“Okay . . .” Hawk says, drawing out the word. “What kind of mission?”
“I need you two to go undercover and find out what Ben’s friends know. I want you to infiltrate the high school.”
He makes it sound so much cooler saying it like that. And he’s also stealing our line. Weren’t we supposed to be convincing Jefferson to let us get into the high school and not the other way around?
“I really don’t know,” Hawk says and gives a little sigh, hamming it up. “I mean . . . high school? Really? You think that would work?”
Jefferson actually laughs. “Well, I’m certainly not qualified to get inside. The parents won’t talk to me but the teens might talk to you. Besides, the youngsters are always the most impressionable.” He stares off darkly and mutters almost to himself. “They’re always the first.”
“Sorry, what?” I say and lean forward. “I didn’t catch that.”
He blinks and shakes his head. “Nothing. I just mean the adult werewolves usually have better heads on their shoulders. You teens tend to go bananas and do stupid things when you have the opportunity.”
“Hey!” I point my sub in his face. “Mind who you’re talking to.”
He brushes the sub aside and stands. “Yeah, you’ve got no right to protest. So, are you two in or not? Or do I have to go buy more subs to bribe you?”
Hawk scoffs. “Well, I’ll definitely stall if it means more food.”
“Okay, then no more subs unless you’re in.”
“Then sign us up, maestro.”
Jefferson claps his hands together. “Great, then we’ll get right to work. You’ll need some supplies. Grab your money, we’re going to the thrift store.”
He hustles out of the door, not even waiting for us to enjoy the subs. Hawk gives a sharp laugh.
“Well, look at us” he says and throws his arms wide. “We smoothed him over like pros.”
“Yeah, we’re geniuses.” I smack him upside the head. “Come on, weirdo. We’re going to the thrift store!”
I shake my hands with exaggerated excitement then unwrap my sub. We both shove our sandwiches into our mouths and grab our wallets before running out the door. I don’t know why I’m excited all of a sudden. I’m going back to a place I’ve hated all my teenage life. School sucks. Just ask anybody. Maybe it’s because this feels like an actual mission. I’m doing something instead of sitting around Jefferson’s cabin and cataloging lives.
We run to a local thrift store and pick up a few more clothes along with backpacks, college-rule notebooks, and cheap mechanical pencils. I know we need to look the part but I really don’t plan on doing any schoolwork. I’ve already been over all this. I got my GED from the centaur homeschool teacher in Underground after getting kicked out of high school in Minneapolis. I passed with flying colors. I just didn’t handle the school environment well. It was unhealthy for everyone else around me. I don’t mention this to Jefferson though. His faith in us is shaky enough as it is. I don’t need to let him know my brother and I locked students inside the bathroom before for harassing Witty.
“Oh, shoot. Witty,” I spit out. We’re in the middle of walking across the parking lot to Moose Lake High School when I stop in my tracks. “I haven’t called him to report in. I’m surprised he hasn’t called me.”
Jefferson waves a hand absently. “I’ve been reporting in to him, don’t worry. I’m telling them everything about you two.”
I gulp. He chuckles in a rather creepy way under his breath and keeps moving for the doors of the school. Hawk gives me a sarcastic thumbs up. I try to smack him but he jumps out of the way and jogs ahead. I wish I hadn’t forgotten to report to Witty but I’ve been caught up in the secrets Jefferson’s hiding about Moose Lake, what’s out in the woods, and the fact that the teenagers are always the first. What a creepy guy. No wonder IMS headquarters stuck him out here by himself.
I stop at the top of the five steps leading to the entrance and gaze up at the two story bricking building, light brown window coverings, and chalk graffiti on the lower walls. It’s around ten o’clock in the morning so all of the students are already inside. I take a deep breath and shake the tension down my shoulders and through my arms.
“You okay?” Hawk says. He waits holding the door open for me. “Having a seizure? Let’s get going, you walking panic attack.”
I stalk past him and shove the side of his face against the glass of the door. “Shut up, dog breath.”
Thankfully the hallways are empty for the time being. We walk down smooth, off-white cement floors flecked with dots of color bordered by rows of worn yellow lockers. The place smells like feet, books, and strong lemon cleaner. My palms are sweaty again.
Jefferson and Hawk enter a glass door on my right and I hustle to catch up to them in the office. A tough old gal wearing cat eye glasses and a pink sweater sits behind a long counter and talks quickly to Jefferson. The place is decorated with your usual motivational posters, school schedules, and framed pictures of the current principal and superintendent. I rub the toes of my shoes against the beige carpet and wipe my hands on my jeans. This part of a school is probably the most familiar to me. I spent enough time in the principal’s office at my last high school to grow familiar with the setting.
The pink-sweater lady directs Jefferson to a side office and the three of us go in. A great mahogany desk littered with paper fills up most of the room and a double pane window lets in light from behind. There are bookshelves on either side bearing binders, leaflets, textbooks, and framed certificates in between. It reminds me of the office at Werevine Pharmaceutical where I had the run in with the shapeshifter. Somehow, in my own deranged way, that calms me a little. I can deal with monsters. But kids and teens my age? That’s a whole different animal.
The pink-sweater lady drags in another folding chair so there are enough places for all three of us to sit and then we’re left to wait. A clock on the wall ticks out the excruciating seconds before a man in a pinstriped suit walks in. He’s tall in a peculiar way—sort of elongated like he’s supposed to be a foot shorter but was stretched out to his current height. Even his face is thin and the odd bob of graying hair on his head wobbles at each step he takes to the chair behind the desk. I bite hard on my lower lip trying not to smile. He’s like a skeletal crypt keeper with Elvis hair.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the man says, his voice stronger than I’m anticipating and booms in the small office. “I’m Principal Tom Tippen. The kids just call me Principal Tippy.”
He reaches his abnormally long arm across the desk to shake each of our hands. His fingers are thin and papery. Jefferson introduces all of us. Tippy sits down, nodding the whole time, and goes over our paperwork.
“So, Uncle Jefferson Barnes, is it?” Tippy says, a listing hum filling in his pauses like he can’t stop his baritone from oozing out of him. “No parents to speak of?”
I’m a little offended how he just throws it out there, and not very gently at that. I remove my hands from the arms of the chair before I break the furniture.
“They passed a long time ago. I’m their legal guardian,” Jefferson says. “They were staying at my sister’s but moved up recently to stay with me.”
“Yes, yes,” the principal says under his breath, that constant baritone hum continuing in the silence while he reads our paperwork under his breath. He lets out a stuttering cough that escalates in volume until I’m leaning back in my chair away from him. The fit passes and he raps his bony fingers on his desk.
“Things look to be in order.” He leans to the side so he can look out his door. “Mrs. Krat! Please summon our guide for the tour.” He sits back and clasps his hands neatly on top of our papers, giving us a wide smile to reveal his yellowing
teeth. I grimace a little and feel Hawk squash my toes with his heel. I lose the grimace and smile back at the principal.
Before I have to endure a minute more of awkward stares and silence in Principal Tippy’s presence, a girl about my age pops into the room. She’s relatively short and has a bounce in her step that jogs her blonde ponytail. There’s a wide and energetic smile on her face when she looks at us like she just found old friends. Definitely too much energy for me.
“This is Ashley,” Principal Tippy says, gesturing wide to the new girl. “She’s one of our student aides. Ashley, would you please give these three a tour of the school?”
“Of course!” Her voice is high and chirpy.
I hold back a sigh and we all rise to follow her back out into the hallway. I notice she’s got pink flip-flops on even though it’s October and a pink ribbon in her hair. Her black shirt boasts a picture of a shirtless vampire and werewolf from those Love Moon movies. I fight back a gag. I can tell the second Hawk sees the same thing because his face goes from being open and friendly to stiff and grumpy. Hollywood portrayals of werewolves and the like get pretty ridiculous and, on occasion, annoying. I mean, it’s good for us—if anyone overhears us talking about werewolves we can just say we were talking about a movie—but it does sting Hawk’s pride to hear girls pawing over shirtless guys in cheesy romance stories about werewolves.
“So!” Ashley starts, her flip-flops slapping against the floor. “These are the hallways where the lockers are.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I mutter under my breath. It earns me an elbow in the ribs from Hawk.
He leans in to whisper in my ear. “This is why you never got along with anyone in high school.”
I glare at him and whisper viciously back, “You were thinking the same thing and you know it.”
“Yeah, but I don’t say it out loud.” He raps his knuckles on the top of my head and I give him a good shove away from me. Jefferson reaches over and puts a hand between us. I ignore them both and continue to follow Ashley who’s either oblivious with her back to us or pretends not to notice our short-lived scuffle.
“So, are you two brother and sister?” Ashley asks over her shoulder.
“Twins,” we answer in unison.
“Oh, that’s adorable!” She giggles and paws her hand at us like we’re already besties. I want to turn around and run screaming out the front door. I start repeating a mantra in my head. Don’t punch, don’t fight, stay on mission. Don’t punch, don’t fight—
“This is the auditorium,” Ashley says and leads us into a shallow down-slanting room filled with rows of chairs leading to a stage. She starts rambling on about some play but then quickly herds us out and we’re taken through the cafeteria, gym, one of the currently unoccupied classrooms, the science lab, and nurse’s office. By the time the tour is over a bell rings directly above us and I jump. Doors fly open and students flood into the empty space. I tighten up next to Hawk so I don’t get run over. Ashley spearheads the way through the noise, the crowds, and the dizzying amount of body spray back to the office.
“And that’s it!” she announces over the echoing hustle and bustle going on behind us. “I guess I’ll see you two soon. We’ll probably be in a lot of classes together. You’re seniors, right?”
“Right on the edge of freedom,” Hawk says with a smile. Her own smile grows in response. I roll my eyes.
“If death doesn’t take us first,” I add and Ashley’s face freezes for a minute before she gives an uncertain laugh.
“Okay, then. See you later!” And with that she’s lost in the crowd.
Principal Tippy is waiting for us back inside the office. We’re shepherded to the guidance counselor and have a long uncomfortable chat figuring out what classes to put us in. Jefferson apparently redacted our last year from our school records so it looks like we just finished our junior year. The counselor, a pretty young woman with shoulder length brunette hair, taps the end of her pen on her desk and studies her computer, pointing out our options. Hawk keeps trying to get us in separate classes which only makes me feel more desperate than I already am. Eventually we’re settled to have only three classes together. I’m completely on my own for the other four.
The second we leave the building I punch Hawk in the shoulder. He recoils with a nasty look on his face but I don’t care.
“What was that about?” I demand. “I thought we were doing this together.”
“Relax, you psycho!” He rubs his shoulder and glares at me. “We can cover more ground if we split up. So, throw on your lovely, raging social skills and suck it up. We’re here to work, remember?”
“I hate you sometimes.”
“Yeah, you’re going to make lots of friends here.”
We glare daggers at each other until I catch Jefferson chuckling behind us. He pushes past us to the truck.
“You two have problems,” he says and keeps laughing.
Chapter 11
I have bags under my eyes, my Go Fire Sprites! sweatshirt on, and a “I’m gonna burn the whole world down” kind of attitude as I step out of Jefferson’s truck in front of the high school the next morning. Hawk steps down looking like he owns the universe. He’s all confidence and wears a plain gray shirt with a black leather jacket he won from an IMS agent in a pop trivia contest. He only brings it out for special occasions when he wants to make an impression.
“Ready, grumpy?” He smirks at me and slings his backpack onto one shoulder.
“Jerk.”
“Oh, get off your cranky high horse.” He starts walking backwards and mimes putting on a crown. “Wear your optimism like a crown and you will find yourself on a throne of success!”
I stalk after him and frown. “Really? You’re quoting Fredrick the faun now?” That faun was the most annoying teacher we ever had in Underground. “Is your arsenal of wit running low or something?”
He just laughs and impersonates the faun’s high squeaky voice when he says, “A smile is the window to a kind soul.”
“I’m going to hurt you. Stop it.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I fight back a smile despite myself. “How do you even remember all of his stupid motivational one-liners?”
He points at me and squints. “Admit it. You like random flowery nonsense. You like it.”
“Says the tough guy that just quoted the random flowery nonsense.”
He shrugs and readjusts his backpack. “At least it wasn’t Love Moon.”
I grab his shoulder dramatically and say, “Only true love falls under the moon.”
He puts his hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me forward so hard I almost fall over. I stumble and throw my hand out for a second before I catch my balance. I give him my best “seriously?” face.
“Sensitive, much?” I grumble.
Hawk grabs my arm and yanks me to the side. I’m about to complain before I realize he just saved me from being run over by a pack of boys all wearing jerseys emblazoned with the school’s mascot.
My brother spins about and throws a fist in the air before calling, “Go Rebels!”
Most of the jocks ignore him but a few other people in the hall stop and stare. Hawk smiles and gives a small wave to his audience.
I shake my head. “I’m the weird one?”
“Hey, weird can work. Funny works. Being crabby doesn’t.”
“How about self-deprecating? I can handle that.”
We stop in front of our lockers and I swing mine open to shove my bag inside. There’s a stumpy boy next to me with loads of acne clutching a physics textbook like it’s the meaning of life. I can’t help but sneak looks at him and the contents of his locker while I slowly pull a notebook free of my bag. There’s a poster for a game I recognize called Mystic Universe with an axe-wielding orc roaring front and center. When the boy tries to swap out textbooks, a slew of comic books fall to the floor.
Hawk nudges me in the back and nods to the boy trying to hastily pick up his collection. I suck in a breath t
hen bend down.
“Let me help,” I say and pick up a comic depicting Pale Knight, a zombie in plate armor, throwing a sophisticated lance. The boy snatches it out of my hands before I even get the chance to offer it over. I clear my throat and try my best to be friendly. “Hey, the Pale Knight is pretty cool. I loved the movie they made based on the comics.”
The boy grimaces and glares at me like he’s disgusted by what he sees. “You’re one of those fans. You don’t know Pale Knight.”
I’m left squatting on the floor in shock as he shoves the comics into his locker, slams the door, and stalks away. I get to my feet and throw up my hands.
“What did I say? Seriously?” I turn to my brother and he’s trying to hide laughter behind his hand. “What? It was awesome.”
Hawk gasps, pretending to be scandalized. “You’re one of those fans, aren’t you? I can’t even look at you right now.”
“I read some of the comics too!” I throw my locker door shut and the metal screeches at the force. I grimace and work at carefully inching the door forward out of its jam. While I do, a pretty girl walks up to the locker on Hawk’s other side. He immediately strikes up a conversation, says he’s new in town, makes a witty reference to being a rebel, she laughs, he laughs, and I throw up in my mouth a little. At least he gets directions from her for our first class. When she leaves, he turns back to me with a smug grin.
He winks. “And that’s how you interact with human beings.”
“In my defense, I think that boy was part troll.”
“Or you’re just part kelpie.” He snatches a pencil from his locker and starts to walk away. “Come on, Fifi.”
I stand there for a second trying to work it out in my head before jogging after him. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
The hallways clear and we make it into the classroom seconds before the bell rings. The room is cramped with student chair-desk combos. A single metal desk sits off to the side that Hawk makes a beeline for to chat up the teacher. When I approach he passes back an English textbook and keeps one for himself. The teacher, a plump woman with short hair, lets us sit in the back without making a fuss of introducing us to the class, which I’m thankful for. I slide into a chair next to my brother and inspect the backs of heads of the students in front of me. I page open my textbook to appear like I’m actually paying attention while the teacher goes to the front to talk about Shakespeare.
The Curse of Moose Lake (International Monster Slayers Book 1) Page 13
