Mayhem (6 page)

“What
happened to your face?” is the first thing Krystal says to me when she gets on the bus.

She walks straight to the back where I'm sitting and slides into the seat beside me. She smells like vanilla—soft and sweet.

“Nothing,” I say and look out the window. Not that it's going to stop her questions, but I figure it's worth a try.

“It's not nothing,” she says, putting a finger on my chin and turning me to face her.

The feel of her skin against mine sends spikes of heat radiating through my body. I allow my face to be turned to her, allow her to look into my eyes, just for a second. Then I blink and say, “I told you yesterday I got hit with the ball, no big deal. Now it's better.”

“It's completely healed,” she says in a whisper, her fingers moving from my chin to my nose. She's closer to me now, I can feel her breath over my skin. Her touch is gentle and makes me feel, I don't know, comfortable.

“How is it completely healed? There's no bruising at all. Almost like it never happened.”

“I'd like to think it didn't.”

“But it did. I saw your swollen nose, it was turning black-and-blue yesterday when you got out of the car. From the
amount of blood on your shirt it bled a lot. So how is it that it's gone now, just a few hours later?”

I shrug. “I don't know.” And I really don't. I couldn't have offered her an explanation if I wanted to.

“You think it's your power growing?”

I'd thought about that as I walked to the bus stop. I'm almost positive that's what it is, but I don't know if I should tell her that.

“Let's just forget it. I don't look like somebody stepped on my face, so that's a good thing. Right?”

She pulls her hand away from my face slowly and I instantly miss the touch. My fingers tingle because I want to touch her face the same way she was touching mine. All I ever want to do is touch her, be near her. It's getting so bad my chest hurts whenever she's around, and even worse when she's away. I know I've got to do something about this crush I have on her.

“Either sh** or get off the pot, Jakey.” That's what Pop Pop said when he guessed I was crushing on a girl. Every now and then, when Pop Pop's mind cooperates with this time period and the people around him, he gives me advice on things like girls and life. Inevitably, he digresses and says something about
Jeopardy
and cats waging a war against him. At those times I feel extremely sad because it seems like he's disappearing right before my eyes. The process is slow and painful, a torture I can definitely live without.

“No,” Krystal says slowly and I have to concentrate to remember what we were talking about.

“What?” I ask.

“You don't look like somebody stepped on your face.” As she talks her cheeks get a little red and she looks away like she's
nervous. But that's crazy, why would she be nervous around me? We've been hanging out for months now.

The rest of the bus ride is quiet. Krystal looks everywhere but at me. I'm just as guilty because I do the same. There's so much I want to say to her, but no words are forming, no thoughts coming to mind. She's looking around like she can't wait to get to school, can't wait to get away from me and my mysterious healing nose.

Maybe I should tell her about the voice and about this surge in strength I keep experiencing. I should tell her about what I learned about Styx and the new questions I have. But I don't. I kind of feel good about my secret, like this part of the equation is just for me. I have a purpose now. Jake, the low-income kid from the tracks, can now make a difference. A bigger difference than the kids at Settleman's High will ever know.

 

Later, we're standing at our lockers—Krystal's is near mine this year because our first-period classes are right next to each other. So we're standing at the lockers, putting stuff in and taking other stuff out. She isn't talking and neither am I. But behind me I hear someone who is.

“Hey, check out those shoes. Are they the same ones you've been wearing since middle school?” Pace is talking loudly, coming up to smack me on the back of my neck.

Heat instantly fuses in that spot and my back goes rigid. Krystal stops what she's doing and looks from me to Pace.

“Get lost, jerk,” she says, rolling her eyes at Pace.

His response is to pucker up his lips and blow her a kiss. She makes a gagging sound and the girls near her laugh.

Meanwhile, Mateo has moved in. He's up in my face now, giving me his best “I hate you” look. I guess I should be in
timidated but I'm not. At one point in my life I guess I would have. But today's a different day. I'm a different person. I'm anticipating his next move eagerly.

“You wanted to say something to me in gym yesterday, Kramer?”

He talks like he's the biggest, baddest guy in this whole school. That's probably because everyone around here treats him that way. The funny thing is Mateo isn't a Richie anymore. Since his dad left his mom last year, they don't live in the big house in Sea Point anymore. Now, he lives around the corner from Krystal in an okay house with his mother, who works at the local ShopNSave, and his twin sisters, who both got jobs at the drugstore after their last year of high school. Pace isn't a Richie either, not by blood. His father married some ex-model so they have a little money but not as much as the real Richies in town. Yet both of them look down on me like I'm the dirt under their fingernails.

“I said what I had to say” is my response.

Mateo's pushing closer to me. I take a step back and hit the locker. “You're such an asshole. You're not even worth my time. I hate even having to look at you,” he says.

And I know he means it. He doesn't know me, doesn't know anything about me other than my address, but he really hates me. I breathe deeply and inhale an acidic stench. It's like I'm breathing it in with every breath I take. It's filling me, growing inside of me, forming something that's making me stronger.

“Same goes,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Stay outta my way,” he growls.

I smirk and it feels good. I know the other kids are watching us. They've formed a semicircle around us. Krystal's right
beside me, I can sense her closeness. The M on my arm heats with her presence. The other kids want to see what I'm going to do, how I'm going to react. They probably expect me to walk away, because that's what I normally do.

But today…today is different.

Just over Mateo's shoulder is where I settle my gaze. Every locker on the opposite side of the hall flies open. As everyone turns with the loud clanking sound, I nod and they slam shut. I do the same for the lockers on my side of hall. Now there's whispers and murmurs about what's going on.

“What the hell?” Pace says. “Let's get outta here, man,” he pulls on Mateo's arm.

“Remember what I said,” Mateo says as Pace pulls him away from me.

“Remember what I said,” I toss right back at him, giving a slight nod of my head, knocking their books from their arms.

“Jake, stop it,” Krystal says grabbing my arm. “Not here.”

That calming sensation that I get whenever she touches me is back. It lowers the rush of adrenaline from my power. “It's fine,” I say looking down at her. “They don't know who's doing it.”

“But you shouldn't be doing this here. This isn't what the power is for.”

She's right, I know. But it feels pretty good to get the best of Mateo and Pace for a change. I'm sick of them bullying me just because they think they can. I'm tired of the wisecracks and the pranks and the embarrassment I've endured for years because of them. Why shouldn't I be able to fight back? What good is this power if I can't do anything for myself?

Those questions race through my mind as I go from class to class. I don't see a problem with using my powers to get even,
and for once in my life come out on top. I know we agreed not to flaunt our powers and I respect that, but it's time I take a stand.

It's time Mateo and Pace and pea-brained bullies like them get what's coming to them.

 

“Are you okay?” Sasha asks Lindsey when we all sit down at the lunch table the next day.

I've been in a strange mood, feeling like I'm expecting something but not sure what. During morning classes I was pretty anxious, and once when I looked toward the window I saw the raven. It's like it's no longer watching me, but following me. I guess if it were a dog, I'd take it in—you know, man's best friend and all that. It's kind of different with a bird, a raven at that. Still, it belongs to me now and I belong to it. Again, that's not something I'm anxious to tell the girls. Both Sasha and Krystal have had confrontations with birds, so they're afraid of them. Lindsey hasn't been fortunate enough to meet them face-to-face. But I'm sure telling them one in particular—because I know it's the same one each time I see it—has been following me on a pretty daily basis now would not go over well.

“I'm fine,” Lindsey answers.

Her answer doesn't ring true, probably not to any of us. She's wearing black again, all black this time. Black skinny jeans, black ballerina flats, a black T-shirt and a long black sweater that actually looks too hot to have on the second week of September. When she stepped off the school bus this morning she was even wearing her large-framed black shades. The sun wasn't out; in fact, it was a gloomy, overcast day. I get the feeling she's hiding from something.

“You look like you're in mourning,” Krystal says, opening her lunch bag and pulling out her sandwich and a Sprite.

Sasha's already opening her bag, setting her plastic Baggies of carrots and celery sticks to the side while unwrapping her ham-and-cheese sandwich.

It's kind of weird having only girls for friends. Watching their habits gives me some insight into the species, not that I know what to do with all that information. But Sasha's mom has her on this healthy kick so everything she eats is full of vitamins and good stuff. I think Casietta, Sasha's old housekeeper, used to let her slack a little. But Casietta's been gone for about four months now. I know Sasha misses her so I try not to bring it up, even though I'm wondering why Sasha's Guardian would leave her now, when it seems like we'd need guarding the most. I think it's connected to her father's and Franklin's father's disappearance, too. However, I note there's ham in Sasha's sandwich today and I wonder how she convinced her mother to let her have that.

Krystal doesn't eat a lot. When we first started having lunch with her she didn't eat at all. Now she does take a few bites out of whatever sandwich she has and drinks her entire Sprite everyday. Krystal's mom is a little more lenient in what Krystal eats, but she's becoming a little fanatical about the church and religion thing. It's rubbing off on Krystal, too, because now when we talk about the evil stalking us she usually brings up the origins of good and evil as learned through the Bible. The similarities are startling, but I'm not sure there's a connection with what we're going through now.

Lindsey, she's still an enigma to me. She talks a mile a minute and eats just as fast. I think that's probably so she doesn't really taste it. But she's small as a bird and doesn't seem to have
any issues about gaining weight. She looks a little pale today and that worries me some.

“Aren't you hot?” I ask.

I was hot earlier today so I took my hoodie off. Meagan Helmper was sitting behind me in Geometry and she sort of gasped when I did. I haven't been without my hoodie in school for years so I guess she was just surprised that I'd taken it off at all. I just wore a T-shirt underneath it and it was a clean one, so I didn't think there was any offensive odor. Still, every time I turned around Meagan was staring at me. And not in a bad way.

Lindsey rolls her eyes. “No. I said I'm fine.”

“Are you trying to block out somebody's thoughts?” Sasha says taking a bite of her sandwich.

I'd been thinking that, so when I nibble on the cold grilled cheese that was on the gourmet school lunch menu today, I wait for her response.

“I'm trying to survive one day at a time,” she says in an exasperated tone. She picks up her grilled cheese and takes a small bite, chewing it like she has a toothache.

There's definitely something bothering her.

“Fatima says that in the Majestic, telepaths are highly coveted. Higher-level magicals want to harvest their power to give them a better advantage,” Sasha says like she's relaying the daily gossip from around Lincoln.

“Oh great, so I need to worry about somebody else wanting this freaky power.” Lindsey is definitely not in her usual happy-go-lucky mood today.

“Anybody else think it strange we haven't seen the creepy darkness for a while?”

As soon as Krystal says this I think about the voice in my
head, about what it said about Styx being a servant of the Underworld.

Sasha nods and crunches a celery stick in her mouth. “Fatima says we should beware of the calm before the storm.”

“Does Fatima ever give real answers?” I ask, and it sounds like an explosion of words. I'm just saying, Sasha puts a lot of credence in what Fatima says. And I get that she's the Messenger, but she never really tells us anything that we haven't already guessed or figured out. “Why can't she just tell us what the deal is, who we're fighting and why we were selected?”

For a minute Sasha just stares at me. Lindsey sort of hunches down in her seat a little more, rocking back and forth. I really would like to know what is going on with her but I'm not about to push her on an answer.

“Are we in a mood today?” Sasha asks. “And what happened to your face? Yesterday it was all bruised up, now it's not.”

“Jeez, my face is fine and no I'm not in a mood. I'm just tired of not getting any straight answers from this Fatima person. I mean, if she's a messenger, isn't she supposed to deliver messages about the unknown?”