Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1) (26 page)

He left wondering what it was about Johanna
Lane that would make her a target. So she could read peoples’
dreams. So what? She couldn’t fry anybody with her laser vision or
squish them into nothing with super strength.

Yet the dreams weren’t under your control.
Maybe Terrence knew that he wouldn’t have any power over Johanna
Lane while he was asleep. Certainly if he was planning something,
it would be in his dreams. Michael started to wonder just how much
control Mr. Jackson had over his thoughts. It was possible he could
wall off his own thoughts so they never came to the surface in his
dreams. It was possible that this was well beyond him. After all,
anybody could slap a band-aid on a cut, but not everybody could
remove part of your kidney and sew you back up with no ill effects.
By his experience with the gravity ability, Michael knew that
control was something that was learned. The finer points of powers
took years to master.

So Terrence killed Johanna Lane, or made it
look like she killed herself, and he did it because she might find
out what sort of plan he had going on with the Omega Syndicate.
Still, that didn’t answer the question: why now? If Johanna had
months to find out Terrence, why hadn’t she found him out and blown
the whistle?

Michael didn’t have any answers to these
questions, but he kept turning it over in his mind as he went about
his homework and got ready for the teachers’ meeting. In the end,
he told his mom he was going for a bike ride, and she demanded he
be back before nine at night. And not to accept anything from
strangers.

The meeting was being held in the LADCEMS
library, with its impressive size, its dozens of tables and scores
of chairs, relaxed atmosphere and high speed wi-fi access. What it
also had was a second and third floor, and those were the basis for
their plan. They weren’t exactly floors. The second was just a ring
overlooking the first floor, full of study desks and quiet tables
for students who liked to draw comics, gossip amongst themselves,
play card games, or play video games. The third floor was also ring
shaped, but had a number of study computers. These were monitored
so heavily and restricted so much the students never really used
them. Michael didn’t like it because there was only one staircase
and an elevator leading out, and both of those led straight into a
mass of teachers who wouldn’t take it kindly if they found out they
were being spied on. Charlotte loved it (of course she did) because
of the way the desks were set up. They were right against the
railing, discouraging stupid students from trying to jump the
fifteen feet downward, and were perfect for remaining hidden
behind.

They arrived a full hour before the meeting
was supposed to start, and searched around the place for anything
they could find. Nothing. So they headed up the stairs twenty
minutes early and settled down to wait, and watch.

It wasn’t long before the teachers began to
arrive in twos and threes and then clumps. Several teachers started
bustling around with projector equipment while others brought in
trays of refreshments. Michael didn’t really bother watching any of
this.

“What does it feel like?” he asked her.
“When, you know, you change?”

She considered it for so long he was starting
to think he’d made her really upset. He was just about to apologize
when she held up a finger.

“It’s like slipping on a pair of gloves,” she
said at last. “But each one’s different. Some don’t fit well. Like
if I wanted to be a pretty awful person, it wouldn’t be any fun for
me, or if I know I have to lie. When I had to turn into your
grandfather, you know, I had to lie to your mom, so it squeezes
real tight.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s how it feels when you
lie normally.”

“But if I don’t like it, it’s harder.
Changing is harder. Usually it’s really easy though.”

“Like Santa Claus?”

She blushed, and Michael had no idea why
until he realized he had sat on her lap. They’d never shared any
moments like that, and it made him confused. Did she like him? If
she did like him, he had no idea what to do about it. Other boys
were supposed to say ‘go out with me’ and then it all got very
hazy. He had no idea of what was expected of him then, outside of
hold hands and possibly sometime in the future, kiss. Like around
the age of eighteen. He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, but he
was almost thirteen years old. According to his mother, this was
not too early to send himself on a beeline path toward Hell by
doing things that were forbidden by the man upstairs.

There was still the question: did she like
him like that? He didn’t have any friends, only books to rely on,
and they made the whole business of girls awfully complicated.
Also, the boys were mostly heroes and had super strength or magic
or whatever. Most of the girls wanted to be ‘just friends’. He
never understood why they couldn’t do ‘just friends’ type stuff
when they weren’t kissing.

He told himself to forget about it. Charlotte
kept explaining about her ability, how she had to keep her mind on
her shape, like keep looking in a mirror or avoid talking. If she
was just standing still, she could stay in someone else’s shape
until the cows came home. If she was trying to be a world famous
figure skater, it was better if she stayed off the ice. The other
night as Grandpa hadn’t been easy for her, which was why she’d
changed back as soon as she got in his room.

She’d been in his room. Alone. It was another
jolting thought. He supposed most of the kids at LADCEMS already
thought she was his girlfriend, even though they didn’t hold hands
in the halls or kiss next to her locker or anything. The other kids
were pretty fixated on boys and girls being together at all.

He promised himself that when things got back
to normal, he was going to make sure everybody knew just how he and
Charlotte fit together. First, he was going to figure out just how
he and Charlotte fit together. Then, as soon as that was done, he
would tell everyone. Maybe she knew how they fit together. Maybe he
could ask her one day, when he stopped his mind from whirling in a
million directions. For instance:

She liked him. Clearly she liked him. Yet,
no, that wasn’t true at all. Maybe she only liked him because they
lived near each other. Plus, she had no other friends. Maybe their
friendship was just a matter of convenience for her. If she moved
to another part of town, they’d probably slowly stop talking and
spending time with one another.

The teachers started to appear in a steady
flow, most of them talking and hovering around the refreshment
tables that had been set up. He recognized Mr. L, Mr. Springfield,
Nora the gravity control woman who had nearly gotten him killed,
Mrs. Montgomery the healer, and Bob the unkillable man. Samuelson
and Wozniak were there also, sipping their coffee like they weren’t
surrounded by enough power to destroy the moon.

“Where’s Jackson?” he whispered. He was
pretty nervous already, and only about a dozen teachers stood below
him. Maybe all of them together in one place would override all of
his student senses and give him a heart attack.

“Can’t see him,” she whispered back. “Don’t
worry, he’ll show up sooner or later.”

One by one, the blob of teachers began to
ooze toward the tables, where a complicated seating ritual of
friends and enemies was probably going on, same as in the
cafeteria. He saw several of them nervously looking for a table,
only to be beckoned over (to their visible relief) by a friend at a
far table. He saw art teachers, in their Halloween-like
paint-smeared clothes sitting together, only one Michael didn’t
know sat apart. Michael kept himself entertained trying to imagine
what the outcast had done to the other art teachers, like the one
hadn’t shown up to a coffee shop rant meeting, or she said one of
the other art teachers’ work wasn’t very good. Maybe they’d gone to
high school together and had just hated each other.

Michael realized he couldn’t do this while
bored.

“Guess what I found out?” he murmured. He
always found these to be better than whispers. Whispers tended to
carry too far.

“What’s that?” Charlotte asked.

“I asked around about Mrs. Lane, Johanna Lane
by the way.” Boy did he feel great, knowing something of interest.
“She was an Active. She could go into your dreams or
something.”

“Like determine what your dreams are going to
be?”

“…right.” He realized he actually had no idea
the extent of Johanna Lane’s ability.

“That would be so great,” she sighed. “You
know, to fly. You can always fly in your dreams.”

Maybe she could, but Michael’s dreams were
more of the run-screaming-and-hide-from-the-bad-guy sort. There
wasn’t much flying, unless you counted the times he flew after
getting smashed by some super powered person or ability.

“If I were Johanna, I’d fly all over the
place in peoples’ dreams. Then I’d know all their desires, like if
they wanted blueberry pancakes, I could show up at their house with
blueberry pancakes.”

Michael stared at her. Yes, he thought, the
people of the world had these insignificant little dreams, like
which pancakes to choose. But of course this was why he kept
wanting to have her around. She quieted the bubbling evil voice
that said,
yes, and when she’s got all their secrets, she can
blackmail ALL of them.
Because that’s what villains did.

Lily told him that Mrs. Lane had been the
nurse at the high school, but the nurse’s job was really more like
a psychiatrist’s than anything else. The counselors also filled in
as head doctors. You couldn’t have a school half full of super
weirdoes with super weird attitudes and super out-of-control
hormones.

“You could make all the flowers into little
apple and lemon pies,” Charlotte went on, “and all the clouds into
cotton candy. Really, you could do anything if you were in
somebody’s dream.”

“What is the matter with you? What are you
doing!” someone shouted from below.

Apparently a lot could happen when someone
was dream. Or daydreaming. Michael snapped out of his to find his
eyes locked with Terrence Jackson’s.

“We’re in trouble,” he muttered.

And that was the precise moment the Omega
Syndicate took over the town.

Terrence Jackson was furious, and he was a
man whose face was always a few steps away from the depths of fury
itself. It was a look that came natural to him, like smiles did to
Charlotte.

“Let me OUT OF HERE!” the evil teacher
shouted.

“What’s going on?” Charlotte asked.

“I don’t know.” Michael whispered.

And he didn’t. The scene down below was not
what you’d expect of a teachers’ meeting. It took five other
teachers to hold Mr. Jackson down. He was thrashing around, and got
his arm free just long enough to belt another teacher in the
head.

“Wozniak?”

The old man’s head rocked back, but he held
onto Mr. Jackson all the same, and they had him pinned down again
soon. A surge of relief and disbelief swept through Michael at the
sight. Somehow they’d figured it out.

“Don’t be stupid, hold him tight Charles,” a
new voice said. It was difficult trying to sort through all the
teachers. Suddenly Mr. L’s bald head glinted in the light, and that
smug grin appeared again. Well, Michael wouldn’t have figured him
for the type of guy who was a hero, what with the large belly
pressing against his horrible choice in plaid suit jackets. You
just didn’t get that heroic vibe, unless it reflected off his shiny
head, or the thick plastic frames of his glasses. His chin wobbled
a bit as he talked.

“How’s the headache Terrence?”

“Let me up!”

“Pretty nasty, I figure. I don’t know what’s
happening to your head while I’ve got your ability, but it can’t be
good.”

“Just kill me!” Terrence breathed.

“Oh,” Mr. L laughed, “No chance of that now.
Really, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not here planning to kill
anybody.”

“Save it,” Terrence breathed. “Soon as I GET
OUT OF HERE, I’m telling everyone you killed Johanna Lane.”

Michael’s mind whirled. Terrence Jackson
wasn’t the leader of the Omega Syndicate? He wasn’t even bad? No,
that couldn’t be right. He was a real jerk. You didn’t just hurt
kids without being a world-class jerk, but that didn’t make him a
scheming psycho trying to take the whole town apart.

And what was with the yelling?

“It’s Mr. L,” Charlotte breathed. “He’s the
guy. The Omega guy.”

Mr. L was a couple of quarter pounders away
from having a heart attack. He looked like he was about as
dangerous and evil as Michael’s front lawn. But maybe, if you
looked straight in his eyes, you’d see something wasn’t right.

“Oh Terrence, you won’t be getting out of
here any time soon. We have a lot of work to do at this little
teachers’ meeting.” Yeah, now he definitely sounded a few a few
chapters short of the whole story.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think we should go,” Charlotte
whispered.

Yes, that sounded like a nice, cowardly plan
that didn’t get them any answers. If a bunch of teachers with super
powers weren’t going to do anything about this situation, Michael
was guessing Mr. L had already used Terrence’s powers on all of
them. Several of them were staring into space, and a few were
sleeping at their tables. One of the art teachers was asleep on the
floor.

“I’m like a surgeon, Terrence,” Mr. L said,
“Cutting for the very first time! This is going to be so much fun.”
Next to him, Charlotte shuddered and mentioned something about a
horrible reference. Michael started to back out from under the
desk, careful not to put his butt too far up in the air and crash
into something. The delighted, unhinged sound of Mr. L’s voice was
frightening. He wasn’t cold, but goosebumps had popped up all over
his arms.