Instinct (5 page)

Struggling to
focus, I smile and nod. “Yes, I talked to Mr. Shockey this morning. I’ve worked
on a paper before, so he was willing to let me join.”

Shane’s eyes
gleam, and he looks me over again. “Cool. Welcome to
The Agitator
.”

I frown. “The
what?”

Cathy laughs
and waves her hands in protest. “I know, it’s dumb. The paper’s name is The
Agitator. In John Brown’s honor, you know.” I had read about the abolitionist
John Brown before moving here, knowing that his attempted slave insurrection before
the Civil War was one of the most controversial events during that period. His
name is everywhere in town. There’s even a wax museum based on his exploits.

“Sounds like a
wrestler’s name, doesn’t it?” Shane jokes, and I can’t help a small smile.

“Maybe a
little,” I admit, still trying to ignore the death daggers Megan is flinging my
way with her eyes.

The tone for
the start of class sounds and my three companions tense up, looking back toward
the door, waiting, I assume, for Jake. A shadow precedes him through the doorway
and then a startlingly good-looking boy walks in. Chestnut hair is luminous
beneath the fluorescent lights and falls into his eyes charmingly, shifting to
reveal brilliant slate-blue eyes that are crisp with anger. High cheekbones and
a clear cut jaw frame his features, as perfect as any star in the movies and TV
shows I’ve glutted on for the past few weeks trying to learn proper high school
etiquette. He is lean, but with his fists clenched in silent fury, I can see
the hard line of muscle taut against his sleeves. No wonder Cathy is in love
with him. I feel a bit breathless myself.

For a moment
he just looks around the room, as though waiting for a challenge, and then his scowl
lands on me. Something flickers in his eyes, and they take on an intense focus
that is both intriguing and disquieting. I am frozen under his stare, trying to
think of something to say that will make the hostile edge of his expression
soften, to release me from the harsh power of his glare.

Finally the
moment passes and he puts out a hand and smiles at me, teeth glinting in a
manner that reminds me of a wolf baring fangs at its prey.

“I could kill
you,” he says.

I leap to my
feet, staggering back away from him. He blinks in surprise, and I can feel the
shock of the others in the room, but all I can see is the fierce glint in his
eyes, all I can hear is the vehemence with which he promises to kill me.

“Are you ok?”
he asks, brow clouding in bewilderment, and I take a deep breath, trying to
slow the frantic pounding of my pulse. I take another step back, putting as
much distance between us as possible. My eyes dart around frantically,
searching for something I can use to explain my bizarre behavior. At last, I
spot a quarter-sized spider hanging from the wall behind him and I blow out my
breath in a huff.         

I point to the
offending arachnid and force myself to focus. “Sorry, there’s a…a spider…” I
whisper, my voice hoarse with fear. He whips around and sees it. His fingers
unclench and he quickly grabs a piece of paper and collects the spider.

“Be right
back,” he says, baring his teeth at me again and slips out of the room. My
entire body sags in relief, and I drop back into my chair. The others are
watching me with bewildered expressions, and I smile to cover my embarrassment.
Megan rolls her eyes.

“Man, you must
really hate spiders,” Shane finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you’d
seen a ghost or something.”

I laugh
nervously and nod. “Yeah. Terrified of them,” I lie. Spiders are okay.

Cathy gives me
a sympathetic look and then shrugs. “I hate stink bugs. You’ll see a bunch of
them around here in the spring. They’re everywhere,” she says, and I am grateful
to her for trying to make me feel less like an idiot. I hear Megan mumble
something derogatory under her breath, but she doesn’t push it.

Jake walks
back into the room more controlled. He has smoothed his hair back from his face
and I am struck again by the clarity of his features, the confidence in his
posture. A shiver runs down my back and I have to force myself to stay still
and not back into the corner furthest from him.

“It’s gone.
You okay?” he asks again, his voice less confrontational. I nod and try to work
up some semblance of normalcy.

“Yes, thanks.
Sorry about that, spiders just freak me out.”

“No problem. So,
who are you?” he asks, his tone still not completely friendly. He looks right
and his tone is almost there, but I can still sense a veiled ferocity that
makes me wary.

“I’m Derry.
And you’re Jake?”

I hear Megan
snicker in the background but ignore it. “Yes, like I said.” Irritation is just
beneath his tone. I wonder what I’ve done in the thirty seconds I’ve known him
to cause such hatred.

“Well, Derry,
I hope you’re as good as you think you are. I don’t know what you did to charm
Shockey so fast,” he says, though his expression makes it clear exactly what he
thinks I’ve done. “But we’ll see soon enough if you can take the pressure.”

I frown, not
understanding what he’s talking about. How can he be so upset that I’m on the
paper?

Before I can
reply, Shockey enters the room and closes the door behind him, cutting us off
from the rest of the class. Jake steps toward him, his mouth opening, but the
teacher gives him a quelling look and turns to address the rest of us.

“I want to see
all of these girls naked,” he says, and gestures to me with a welcoming smile.
I have a sick feeling in my stomach, but I assume he is introducing me, so I
wave. Megan’s eyes roll so far back in her head it has to hurt.

“Derry has an
impressive portfolio. She’s worked on several different papers in the past
couple years, so she should be able to give you all some insight on how
journalists do things in the real world,” he continues proudly, as though my
success up until now is his doing. I can feel my cheeks flush as I take in the
skeptical looks of my fellow classmates.

“Anything you
want to add, Derry?” Shockey asks. My throat has closed up again, so I just
shake my head. “Ok, Jake you show her the ropes, and the rest of you, I want to
see story ideas by tomorrow.” With another smile and a leisurely survey of the
girls in the room, Shockey heads back out to the main classroom, leaving an
uneasy hush in his wake.

After a
moment, Jake, who does seem to be in charge, gives me a venomous look and turns
to the others. “Megan, maybe you can check with the principal and see if he has
any announcements to make. Shane, why don’t you get the sports schedules for
the semester, and find out if the coaches have anything for us. Cathy,” he says
in a slightly softer voice, “any idea what you want to work on?”

Cathy beams
under his attention. “Um, I had thought maybe a spotlight on seniors? You know,
each issue we could have interviews about their time here…sort of a last
semester hurrah?” she suggests, her voice gaining strength as she continues. Jake
smiles at her approvingly.

“Go for it.
Anybody have anything else?” he asks, looking at the others. Megan elbows Shane
and he sighs before he speaks.

“Yeah, we kind
of thought…well, look man, don’t get upset or anything, but we thought maybe we
should do a story about Miranda. Maybe get some interviews about her. Kind of a
memorial piece,” he says, confidence trailing as he finishes.

Jake’s face is
carved stone as he stares back at Shane, who seems to shrink slightly, quite an
achievement for someone his size.

“Or not…you
know, whatever you think is best,” Shane says quietly.

I look back
and forth between the others, who are clearly uncomfortable, glancing around at
everything but Jake. It takes me a moment to remember that Miranda is the girl
whose locker has become a shrine, the one Nicole said died in October. Jake’s
wooden frame and inscrutable expression suggests that he knew her too.

After a
moment, Jake’s face loses its dangerous edge and he gives Shane a faint smile.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Do you mind taking care of it?”

Clearly
relieved, Shane nods and gestures at Megan. “We’ve got it, man. No worries.”

“Alright,
let’s get to work. I’m going to call our advertisers and make sure they’re in
for this semester.” Jake finally turns to me, his cloudy blue eyes stark with
anger. “Oh. Right. Derry, you’re supposed to take the community beat.”

I hear a
collective intake of breath from the others and understand this is what has Jake
so pissed.

“Okay,” I say
cautiously, gauging how close Jake is to beating me senseless.

He glowers at
me, and the rest of the group skitters away to their various assignments. There
is so much focused rage in Jake’s expression that his first statement to me
doesn’t feel so far-fetched. His entire body radiates barely contained
aggression, and all of it is directed at me. For a moment I consider fleeing
out the door and never coming back, but just as quickly I feel my spine stiffen
and meet him glare for glare. He may want to kill me, but it won’t take me long
to learn enough about him to give him pause. Just a few conversations and I’ll
know his most hidden desires and secrets. Not a bad bargaining chip.

“What does
that involve?” I finally ask. He blinks and narrows his gaze. His eyes hold all
the warmth of a glacier.

“You keep
track of what’s being covered by the town’s newspaper and other local news
sources. You look for stories in the community that affect the school. It used
to be my beat, so if you have any questions, I’d be happy to help you.” He
bites off his words as though they taste bad, and my skin hums with his insincerity.
Understanding filters in and I can see why he’s so angry. Given Shockey’s
proclivities, Jake probably thinks I’ve been given his beat because I flirted
with the teacher or something. So not only does he have a quick temper and
homicidal tendencies, he’s a chauvinist.

“I’m sure I
can manage,” I say sweetly, stepping out of his reach, just in case.

 “Fine,” he
snaps, and turns away, switching on one of the computers and stiffening his
back so much I could bounce a quarter off of it.

I glance
around and take the computer no one is using and pull up a search engine. It
takes me only a few moments to find out who the PR manager is at the local
paper, the
Daily Holler
.

Jake is using
the classroom’s phone, so I dig out my cell and notice I’ve missed a text from
Mom.

I don’t
think you’ll last the day.

I blink and
the words right themselves.

Hope you’re
having a great day!

I quickly send
back a falsely cheerful message and then dial the number on the computer
screen.

“I’m completely
broke,” a harried male voice answers. I assume I’ve reached the right person
and continue, wondering what the greeting was meant to sound like.

“Hello, my
name is Derry MacKenna. I’m with the high school’s A
gitator
and have
just been put on the community beat. I know you must be very busy right now, so
I don’t want to take up your time. I just wanted to introduce myself and see
when a good time to contact you would be,” I say as congenially as possible.
There’s a pause on the other end and then he answers.

“What happened
to Jake?”

With the boy
in question in the room and listening to me if his slightly turned head and
frozen posture is any indication, I reply carefully. “Jake has been put onto a
more pressing assignment for the moment, so I’m filling in.” Jake’s shoulders slacken
minutely.

“Oh okay.
Well, now’s not a great time, but why don’t you stop by the office Wednesday
after school? Just ask for Derek at the front desk.”

“Thank you so
much. I appreciate your time,” I say and we hang up. Jake spins around in his
chair and spears me with a stare. I bat my eyes and smile innocently. Perhaps
it’s not wise to bait someone who has violent intentions toward me, but
something about him makes my hackles rise and I can’t seem to help myself. With
a dark look, he turns back around and returns to his work. I hear Megan snicker
next to me.

“I hate being
short.”

“Sorry, what?”
I ask.

“I said nice
try,” she whispers. “Derek’s his cousin. He’s going to know Jake got replaced
by this evening.”

I shrug and
start looking through the articles on the newspaper’s website. Not satisfied by
my reaction, Megan persists.

“What did you
do to get that beat, anyway? Jake’s had it since sophomore year and never gave
it up, not even when he took over as editor last semester.” She’s genuinely
curious, I can tell, so I decide to be honest.

“I’ve been
writing for papers since I was fourteen. I started out as an intern, but I’ve
been freelancing for the past two years. I do actually have some experience.”

Megan runs her
eyes over me doubtfully. “You sure it’s not because you gave Shockey a blow
job?”

I am shocked
by her coarseness and feel the color rush to my cheeks. She smirks and starts
to turn around.

“No. Is that
how you got your position?” I ask ingenuously. Her own face reddens and she
sneers unconvincingly. She can dish it, as they say, but she can’t take it.

“Well, we must
both be here based on our respective…talents.” She ignores me and returns to
her work. Fine with me.

I spend the
rest of the period working quietly, trying to get a feel for the types of
stories I might need to cover, and by the time the tone sounds, feel reasonably
confident that I can come up with some ideas. Everyone gathers up their bags
and gets ready to go. Jake stalks out the door without a glance in my
direction, and despite my earlier resolve not to be scared, I am relieved to
see the back of him.