Sophomore Freak (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 2) (12 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I finally get to sleep

Selby cracked his knuckles, like he was readying for a fight. “Who’s this King, anyway?”

Courtney continued speaking in the faint glow of the pink source. “We all had. . . families.”
Her voice broke.
“He’s one of us. Six
– we’re all that’s left.”

“How?” Rhapsody asked.
“Why?”

“The level of that protein in your blood – it drops tremendously after you turn eighteen. It’s gone completely by the time you turn twenty-one.”

My insides froze. I was almost afraid to ask. “Meaning?”

She licked her lips. “You’ll have to make a choice, like we did.”

Rhapsody glanced at the pink source. Her nostrils flared. “What kind of choice? Sophie’s choice?”

“If you want to stay this way, of course.
”
Courtney rubbed the back of her neck. “Imagine living life like gods on earth, doing all the things you can do with powers.”

“Heck yeah!” Selby said, pumping his fist.

“Or spending your days with your loved ones, normal, dreaming about what you could have done being. . .exceptional.”

From the looks on everyone’s faces, we didn’t want to pick either, especially Selby, who was two years older than us. “Well, what happens to us if we keep our crystals past eighteen and then take them off?” he asked.

“Under normal circumstances, the radiation causes incurable forms of cancer,” she said, her voice losing its power. “That’s what happens if the rest of the population wears them, Michael. For you, if you take them off then, you’ll die.”

The word
cancer
hit home for me and Rhapsody, silencing us both. I put my hands into my shorts’ pockets. This was a lot to take in all at once.

Sasha touched Courtney on the arm. “When did you put yours on?”

Courtney tugged on a golden chain around her neck until a golden yellow charm rose from under her bodysuit. “Summer of ‘65. I was twenty-seven when we found it.”

All of us tried to do the math in our heads, but it was no contest. “You’re seventy-five years old?” Sasha shouted with surprise. “So, Camuto rounded up on your age?”

“No. Freaking. Way!” Selby was amazed, too. “You’re
way
too hot to be that old.”

I said the obvious. “Then gold ice
stops
you from aging?”

“Not quite,” Courtney said, smirking. “Time for you three to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day for us all.”

While Courtney gave us a tour of the living quarters, I wondered how they made this living arrangement work – Hughes and two single women. Everyone used the same bathroom and showered in one area separated by a four-foot-high tiled wall. There were rows of bunk beds, but only four of them had sheets.

The girls showered first. Selby and I were told to wait in the bunk area. Together. Courtney had missed the cage match between Sasha and Rhapsody. Was she trying to start another one with us? I paced around, trying to avoid Selby. The room wasn’t big enough for that. I ended up doing small circles, like a dog chasing his own tail.

“Quit it, Freshman,” he said from a bottom bunk as I circled it. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” I said. What was I sorry for?

Lying back, he turned his head in my direction. “Think they ever hooked up? Moses and the Golden Girls? They had to, right?”

I was ashamed to admit I’d thought about it. “You mean Hughes and Courtney?”

He let out a chuckle.
“Hughes.
Dude’s totally Janitor Brad. You knew that, right?”

“Yeah.” At least someone else said it.

“It wouldn’t be him and
Camuto.
Sour Lemon Face is totally a virgin.”

I quickly changed the subject. “Why are you here? I thought you were leaving.”

“Psssh. Sasha’s right, you don’t listen. I said
after tomorrow.”

The idea Sasha talked to him was bothersome enough without her talking to him about
me.
What else had she told Selby about me? “Hear anything about your folks?”

The last time I asked him, he’d nearly killed me. This time, my chain was almost unbreakable. All he could do was stare.
“No,”
he said angrily. “Killer’s still out there.”

I didn’t believe it. He’d once used his speed to run into the girls’ locker room. What kept him from zipping into the police precinct and stealing information? He knew
something.
His dad had abused him. He might be happy he died, but his mom was gone, too. I didn’t picture him letting go of their deaths that easy.

Selby scratched the stray hairs on his cheek. “They think it was a. . .what’s the name for it? Serial killer. I think – yeah, that’s it.”

I didn’t speak. He stopped talking for a moment. “Gutted alive. . .” His voice cracked.

Suddenly the sound of water skittering across the floor stopped. Sasha and Rhapsody were finished.

Selby got up from his bunk and tossed the white towel Courtney had given him over his shoulder. “It’s about time. I’m first,” he said.

With a
whoosh, Selby
sped out of the bunk room and into the showers. No more than thirty seconds later, he turned the water off. “All yours,
Freak.”

I showered at a normal speed, but I kept an eye open for a sudden gust of wind. Now Selby could pull pranks at super-speed. It was bad enough we had to wear generic sets of clothes. At least they were close to our size. The underwear fit, too. I tried to not let that fact creep me out.

Returning to the bunks, I saw we all had chosen different sides of the room. Sasha had staked a claim to the top bunk closest to the lone window in the room. She looked up when she saw me, then turned her attention back to rubbing lotion on her arms. Rhapsody took the bottom bunk across the room from Sasha. She smiled at me, rolled her eyes at Sasha and continued brushing her hair. Selby wasn’t around.

Rather than deal with either of them, I tracked my way back to the giant room and put my phone on one of their chargers. After searching for a while I found a flashlight by Hughes’ desk. I could tell it was his desk by the giant liquor bottle next to one of its legs. It reminded me of Joyce’s brandy. I picked it up by the neck and read the label.
“Oh
-ban single malt,” I read. “What’s the ‘fourteen’ mean?”

“It means it’s fourteen-year-old whiskey. And it’s pronounced ‘Oh-
ben’.”

Hughes voice boomed from behind me. I jumped three feet into the air and got stuck. Gravity wasn’t pulling me back to the floor, but I wasn’t going any higher. I looked down and that’s when my feet hit the ground with a
thud.
   

He nodded like I had done something impressive. “Can’t sleep?”

It was early, so maybe I could still sleep. “Not in there,” I said.

“Follow me,” he said, reaching into his drawer and producing two lowball glasses. “Bring the flashlight and the bottle.”

I stared at him. I’d never drunk alcohol before. “You know I’m fifteen, right?”

“Trust me,” he laughed. “Underage drinking is the least of your problems.”

He had a point. I did what he told me to do.

Hughes directed me to the elevator, and we got inside. “Push the ‘T’ button.”

I did it. The elevator brought us to the second level – the one I’d been curious about. I flicked the flashlight on and shined it ahead of us. Sure enough, those mammoth shadows were jet airplanes. I had seen photos of planes like these in my history book. We passed them all and another machine I couldn’t even begin to describe beyond its distinctive shape – like a giant metal needle with a control panel.

By flipping a few nearby switches, Hughes turned on the lights. He sat with his back against the giant needle and instructed me to do the same. I handed him the bottle and he poured himself some whiskey, then some for me.

“I don’t toast to other men,” he said, drinking it in one gulp. “Drink up.”

I sniffed it first. Whiskey smells horrible and strong, like funky cologne. “If I pour this in one of them,” I said, pointing my left hand toward the planes, “will it start?”

Hughes cracked a smile and poured himself some more. “Funny. Don’t sip it. Your body will process it quickly enough.”

“My therapist says I shouldn’t drink because of my rage blackouts.”

He said the word loudly enough for his voice to echo. “Thera-pist? Thera-pist?”

“Well played.”

“I’ll take personal responsibility for you, Rage Against the Machine. Drink up.”

I hate nicknames.

Holding my breath, I sucked it down. It tasted sweet for a split second and then worse than I ever imagined it would. Instead of spitting it out, I swallowed it. “This tastes good to you?” I asked, coughing.

“Yeah,” he said after his second glass. “You’ll get used to it.”

Drinking underage wasn’t the first law I’d broken, but it was almost the least satisfying – right after breaking into Peters’ house and getting shot. “I doubt it.”

“Since you’re one of us,” he said, pouring himself a little less this time. “The rules and laws of regular people don’t really apply to you anymore. You have to adapt, set your own evolving sense of right and wrong.
”

“Is that what happened to King?”

Hughes noticeably flinched, drinking some of the whiskey before setting his glass next to him on the concrete. “Your ways of thinking about things have to constantly change, Jason. Long life has its benefits and its consequences. That’s what happened to King.”

Though that didn’t make much sense, I belched before I could control it. “You can’t take your necklace off, can you?”

“Drink some more, Kid,” he said, measuring whiskey into my glass.

This time I quickly swallowed the liquid, letting it burn its way down my throat and into my stomach. The sweetness lingered on my tongue a little longer this time. I blinked in slow motion, or did I?

“We’ve lived so long,” he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. “So long.”

I asked him. “King wants the provenance crystals. Why? They’re going to blow up.”

Hughes gazed into his glass, like Joyce had done the last time I saw her. But while Joyce looked as if she wished the glass was bigger, his face grew dark and regretful. “A long time ago he started wearing a pink prism. Ever since then, David’s been. . .rather psychotic.”