Warp Speed (9780545543422)

by Yee, Lisa

  “Marley Sandelski,” he says in a low growl. I didn’t know he knew my last name. “Not cool, Sandelski. You double-crossed me. No one does that to Digger. You’d better watch your back. Oh, and you can say ‘good-bye’ to the Rialto. I’m going to tell my dad that we need a multiplex. My dad will do whatever I say. You blew it big-time, loser. Big-time.”

  I wait at the signal and watch him cross the street. When a car rounding the corner almost hits him, Digger slams his fist down on the hood and yells at the driver. I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. What if Mom was wrong? What if Digger’s dad somehow manages to get ahold of the Rialto?

  By the time I get to school, I’ve chickened out about the note. What was I thinking, asking Emily if she likes me? How stupid is that? I’m going to die soon anyway. Digger’s going to kill me, then bankrupt my parents.

  All day I’m skittish. I spot the Gorn and hide around a corner. I’m on the lookout for Digger or anyone else who may want me dead. I dart from location to location, careful not to be seen, when — BAM!

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “Marley?” I look up. “Hi, Marley!” Emily is standing so close to me that I can smell her hair. It reminds me of a sweeping field of delicate flowers, not that I’ve ever been in one. However, sometimes at the supermarket, I stick my head into the refrigerator that holds the flowers and sniff them.

  It’s like everyone else in the hallway has faded except for the most excellent Emily Ebers. I blink several times. Fate has brought us together. Or maybe it was Captain Kirk. That’s when I notice we’re standing in front of her locker.

  “Are you okay? You look kind of funny,” Emily says as she shifts her books from one arm to the other. Should I offer to carry them for her? “Is that a B-Man jacket?” she asks.

  My voice has abandoned me, so I nod.

  “I knew it!” she says. “Gamma Girl says all the cool boys wear those. I like what you’ve done to your hair too. Well, I’ve gotta go. Don’t want to be late for class. See you around, Marley!”

  I’m so happy I can barely breathe. “Eh … Em … Emi … Emily?” I finally manage to say. “Emily?” But she’s disappeared. So has everyone else. I’m standing alone in the hall, and I know what needs to be done. My heart is racing again. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m happy, excited, or about to die. Digger may kill me, so what do I have to lose by letting Emily Ebers know how I feel about her? I slip the note through a slit in her locker.

  All during English I can barely sit still as Ms. Klein discusses the dangers of dangling participles. Ever since I gave her my Rialto essay, she’s been encouraging my writing. She says I have a lot of important things to say.

  I wonder if Emily has seen the note yet.

  The bell rings and I head out. Stanford Wong is standing by the stairs talking to Stretch. “Hi!” Stanford says and waves. I turn around to see if he’s talking to someone behind me.

  “Hi,” I answer. It’s beyond cool that Stanford Wong is saying hi to me in front of everyone, and that he says hi first. Usually, people say hi to him and then he says hi back.

  “You know Stretch, right?” he asks.

  As Stretch and I nod to each other, I spot Emily way down at the other end of the hall. She lights up when she sees me. My breathing quickens. I’ll bet she got the note!

  “Marley! Marley!” Emily cries. The huge smile on her face mirrors mine. “Marley,” Emily says, grabbing my arm. She smells like flowers still. “I didn’t know you knew my boyfriend!”

  What?

  Stretch is her boyfriend?

  I feel all the blood drain from my face.

  “You’re … you … you and him?” I say, pointing to Stretch. He shakes his head and points to Stanford, who is looking at Emily and beaming.

  “Stanford and I,” Emily begins, “we’re together and —”

  I feel like I’ve been shot. This is worse than death. Before she can finish her sentence, I take off running.

  It’s disgusting in here. I’m hiding in the boy’s bathroom, the scene of a million swirlies. That’s when they shove your head into the toilet and flush. Ramen got one last year and has yet to recover. Ever since then, he’s stopped drinking anything until after school. “I’d rather dehydrate than go though that again,” he swears.

  One of the toilets has a turd floating in it. That’s how I feel — like a turd.

  The bell rings and the halls are suddenly quiet. I hear one last kid running to class. Finally, it sounds like I’m in the clear. I slowly open the bathroom door and peer out. It looks safe. I take off.

  When I get to Emily’s locker I look around to make sure no one is watching. I fish around in my pockets and pull out a paper clip. Quickly, I bend it into an R shape. I flip the combination lock over and insert the short end of the paper clip into the keyhole on the back. I grasp the top of the lock with my other hand and hold it steady. Yes! Troy’s lock-picking lessons are about to pay off.

  With small quick moves, I wiggle the paper clip so that it dislodges the tumblers. Suddenly, BINGO! The lock pops open. Just then someone puts a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  “What do you think you are doing?”

  I freeze and slowly turn around. I can smell him before I can see him.

  Principal Haycorn is waiting for an answer. He does not look happy.

  “Uh, I just need to get something.”

  “Really now?” he asks. “Because it looked to me like you were breaking into this locker.” I gulp and shake my head. “Open the locker,” he orders.

  I do as I’m told.

  Principal Haycorn gives me a smug smile. “Funny, this doesn’t look like the kind of locker I’d think you have.”

  The inside of Emily’s locker is an explosion of pink and purple. There are flower and butterfly stickers everywhere. On the back of the locker door is a mirror. On top of it is a photo of Stanford Wong in his basketball uniform. There’s also a picture of her and Millicent Min. And there, resting on some books, is something I recognize. My note.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Breaking into lockers is serious stuff.”

  “I wasn’t breaking in,” I struggle to explain. “This is my friend’s locker and she asked me to get something for her.”

  “What?” Principal Haycorn asks. He looks at his fingernails. “What did she want?”

  “Her special lucky pen,” I say, glancing at a pencil holder stuck inside her locker. “That one,” I tell him, reaching for a pen that’s got a duck on the top of it. As he looks at it, I grab the note and slip it into my pocket.

  “I think you’re lying,” Principal Haycorn says. “Your name’s Farley, right?”

  “It’s Marley, sir. Marley Sandelski.”

  “Yes, of course. Marley, isn’t that what I said?” I start to correct him, but stop myself. I’m in enough trouble already. “Come with me, Mr. Sandelski,” he tells me as he slams the locker shut.

  As I sit in Principal Haycorn’s office, he taps the duck pen on his desk and glares at me. On his wall is a plaque from the Rotary Club proclaiming TAWSON HAYCORN, PERSON OF THE YEAR.

  “I’ve got a crossing guard meeting after school,” he says. “Otherwise, we’d get into this. But for now, you’ve got after-school detention for this break-in. Tomorrow we’ll discuss your future … or lack of one.” The Person of the Year’s eyes narrow. “Stealing can get a student expelled. I hope you know that.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat is dry.

  School is out and I am sitting in Mr. Glick’s classroom. He’s the scariest teacher on campus. Rumor has it that he once killed a kid who turned in his homework late. I got one of the few A’s in his class last year, but that’s because I worked harder than I ever have … and because I didn’t want him to kill me.

  Speaking of dead kids, Digger is sitting in front of me. To my left is the Gorn leader. To my right is the small Gorn, and the middle Gorn sits behind me, cracking his knuckles. Yep. I’m as good as dead. Plus, I’m going to b
e kicked out of school and have a prison record. But that’s okay. I have nothing to live for now that I know Emily and Stanford are girlfriend/boyfriend. I can’t even look forward to the Star Trek Convention. I blew all my money on these stupid, ugly, expensive clothes.

  “Marley Sandelski,” Mr. Glick barks. “I’m surprised to see you here. Welcome to detention. I do hope you will enjoy your stay.”

  The Gorn glance at each other and snicker.

  “Listen up, you deadbeats,” Mr. Glick growls. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but I’m the unlucky teacher who has detention duty this week. So here are the rules for you newcomers — that means you, Sandelski. No talking. No eating. No nothing. You will sit and you will sit still. If you have to scratch an itch, you will ask my permission to scratch it, is that understood? What? I can’t hear you! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?”

  “YES, SIR!” we all yell.

  “Very nice,” Mr. Glick says as he cleans his glasses. “Now, silence!”

  No wonder the Gorn stopped waiting for me after school. They were here all this time.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Digger hisses.

  “Not if we get him first,” the Gorn leader says, laughing.

  WWSD. WWSD.

  “That is highly illogical,” I say, staring at my hands folded on the desk. To make eye contact with any of them could be fatal. “To kill me would just get your detention extended.”

  “Well, then maybe we won’t kill you, but slowly torture you,” the leader whispers. He grins, showing off where his tooth is missing.

  “If you lay a finger on me and get caught, you might get separated from your brothers in prison, and wouldn’t that be sad?”

  “Huh?” he says. “My brothers?”

  “Yes, them.” I point to the other two.

  “We aren’t brothers!” the small Gorn cries in his high-pitched voice. “We aren’t even related.”

  All three look highly insulted.

  “Sandelski!” It’s Mr. Glick. Why does he always yell? “Did I hear a peep out of you? Because I think I heard a peep, which means all five of you get an extra half hour of detention. You can thank him later, boys.”

  I shut my mouth and lower my head. The glare from the other detainees burns through me.

  Yep. Dead man. That’s me.

  Mr. Glick barely says, “You’re excused,” before I bolt out of the room. There are four guys chasing me, but none of them can match my speed. I don’t stop until I get to the Rialto. I rush upstairs to the safety of our apartment.

  Uh-oh.

  My parents are waiting for me.

  They look like they’ve just seen Bette Davis in Dark Victory, this old film about a socialite who eventually loses her sight and dies. I turn around to leave when my mother says, “Marley, Principal Haycorn called. You were caught breaking into a locker? Can that be true?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I try to explain.

  “What should we think?” Dad asks. He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds confused.

  “There’s someplace I need to be,” I blurt out. That much is true. I need to be anywhere but here.

  “Stay for a minute and try to explain,” Dad urges.

  How can I explain a lifetime of torment in a minute?

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this now,” I say as I run back down the stairs.

  “Marley!” Mom calls after me.

  I keep going out of the apartment and don’t stop running until my legs won’t carry me anymore. As I rest on the bridge, I watch the Gold Line train rush past, full of people going places. Some are staring out the window, others are reading, a few are talking to each other — but none are being stalked by Gorn. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

  By the time I return home, it’s dark. Mom’s reading one of her Braille books in the living room with the lights off. Neither one of us says anything when I walk past her. I’m starving. When I open the refrigerator I find a plate of roast chicken with mashed potatoes and peas waiting for me. I grab it and retreat to the Transporter Room, and don’t emerge until after midnight, when I know my parents are in bed.

  Ms. McKenna is telling the class about the oral reports we’re going to have to give before winter break. A bored-looking girl wearing about a thousand necklaces comes into the room and hands her a note. Ms. McKenna reads it and looks up. “Marley, please report to the principal’s office.”

  Great. What have I done now?

  “Sit down, Mr. Sandelski.” Principal Haycorn motions to the chair across from his desk. I flop down and cross my arms over my chest. “You are excused from after-school detention,” Haycorn tells me.

  What?

  “We checked with …” He looks at a piece of paper. “We checked with Emily Ebers, and she confirmed that she had asked you to get her Lucky Ducky Quackin’ pen out of her locker.”

  What?

  “Now, you were still tardy for class, and we don’t take lightly to tardies around here, so that will remain on your permanent record. However, because that’s your only infraction, and because it has come to my attention that you are the Tiggy Tiger Turkey Trot winner, you are excused from after-school detention. Any questions?”

  What did Emily Ebers say? I want to ask. Emily told you I was getting something for her?

  “No questions.”

  “Mr. Sandelski,” Principal Haycorn says as he stands. “Even though you were cleared of this offense, I’m still going to be keeping my eye on you. I never forget a face.”

  I go through the rest of the day wondering why Emily would lie for me. It is highly illogical. Good thing she didn’t read the note.

  Kids are still saying hi to me, but with less frequency, like the sheen of winning the Tiggy Tiger Turkey Trot is wearing off. Right before AV Club, I hear someone call my name. I whip around.

  It’s Emily. What’s happening? Who shut off my oxygen supply? This must be how Dad feels around crowds.

  “Marley?” As Emily comes into focus everyone else fades away. Her purple dress makes her look like one of those models from Gamma Girl, only a nice one with a wide smile and sparkling eyes. I check to see if Stanford is around. He’s not. Still, it hurts to look at her.

  “Principal Haycorn thought you broke into my locker,” Emily says in a rush. “He asked me if I told you to get my Lucky Ducky pen, and I thought you might be in trouble, so I said yes. Marley, why did you break into my locker?”

  A war is going on in my stomach. Emily looks so confused.

  “I had to get something,” I sputter as I try to breathe. Is that wheezing sound coming from me?

  “The note?” Emily asks.

  I feel as though I’ve been shot. She knows about the note? I want to run, but I can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel any part of me.

  “I read it, Marley, and thought it was really sweet, but well, I’m with Stanford, and …” As she goes on and on about Stanford, I can see her talking, but can’t hear anything. When did my life get so rotten? The Gorn are out to kill me, Digger’s dad will probably put the Rialto out of business, Ramen hates me, and now Emily Ebers knows I’m a complete loser.

  “… and so, I hope we can still be friends,” Emily is saying. “Marley? Marley, are you okay? You look pale.”

  “Oh! Uh, yeah, friends. Okay. Okay, then. See you around.” My legs buckle before I regain my balance and run away before she can say anything more.

  “Cary, this is Lavender. What’s on your mind tonight?”

  “Well, um …” I have disguised my voice to sound like Cary Grant’s. Only I’m finding it difficult to do a deep, distinct accent. “I have recently had a setback and somehow totally misread some signals.”

  “Oh, Cary, that’s too bad,” Lavender says in her soft, soothing voice. “Sometimes that does happen, though. Tell me, does your heart hurt?”

  I nod. It’s not just my heart. It’s every part of me. “Yes,” I say. My voice cracks and I pretend to cough.

  “I thought so. But that
means that you’re alive and can feel, even though what you feel right now is pain. Cary, here’s a song for you by Bonnie Tyler called ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart.’ …”

  It’s after school. Ramen is still ignoring me. At lunch, the three of us still eat together, only he pretends I’m not there, like I’m invisible. How long can this last?

  I don’t feel like going straight home. As I wander past RadioShack and Sweeteria, I try to shake off my humiliation, but I can’t. Sure, Emily was nice enough to my face, but I’ll bet the minute I turned around, she and Stanford and his buddies started making fun of me.

  How could I be so stupid to think a person like Emily Ebers could ever like a person like me, Marley Sandelski? I can feel myself fading back into the nobody category. It’ll probably be all over the school tomorrow. I can see it scrolling across the cafeteria LED board: SANDELSKI = LOSER.

  I’m not sure what hurts worse, knowing that Emily pities me, or knowing that I am less than nothing. My jaw is tense. I hate those stupid kids who make fun of people. Why? What’s the point? Why are they like that?

  What have I ever done to them?

  Why do they do those things to me?

  Principal Haycorn hates me too. I can tell that he still thinks I’m a liar and a thief. It’s bad enough when the kids think you are a loser, but when the adults give up on you … well, it’s over, isn’t it? I don’t even matter, except for the amusement factor I provide.

  Slam Marley into the locker.

  Make fun of Marley.

  Accuse Marley.

  Hit Marley.

  Chase Marley.

  Humiliate Marley.

  Beat up Marley.

  “Hello, Marley.”

  Startled, I look up. How long have I been sitting on this park bench? Is it dusk already?

  “What do you want, Digger?” I ask through gritted teeth. I hate him most of all.

  “You double-crossed me,” Digger says. His eyes narrow as traffic rushes past us. “You better say ‘sorry.’ ”