The Dominion Key (10 page)

“We’ve gotta do something. Let’s start by removing this wire.” Milton reached for the bomb.

“No!” I warned. “That’s purple.”

“Looks bluish to me.”

I shook my head, pointing. “
This
is the blue wire.”

“No, that’s teal.”

I tugged at my safety goggles. How were we supposed to defuse a bomb when we couldn’t even agree on colors? At least we weren’t the only ones struggling with our first assignment. Except for Sophie and Miranda, the rest of the class looked just as lost as we did.

“All right, fine,” Milton said, exasperated. “We’ll try it your way. You think this is the blue wire?”

I nodded.

“You sure about that?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, then.” Milton reached out. His fingers pinched the wire. “Here goes.”

Milton pulled the wire and—

POP!

My vision filled with dark smoke. I let out a hacking cough, waving away the cloud. Next to me, Milton’s face was covered in black soot. He looked like he’d just gone bungee jumping down a chimney. I would’ve laughed, except I probably looked the same.

“If this were a real bomb, our entire classroom would be rubble right now,” Dr. Fleming said in a grim tone. “But don’t be dismayed, gentlemen. It’s exceedingly rare for a student to get it right on the first—”

“Done!”

At the next lab station, Miranda was beaming with pride. The clock on her time bomb had stopped.

“Excellent work.” Dr. Fleming examined the defused bomb. “Excellent work indeed.”

Miranda shrugged. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.” Even as she tried to feign modesty, I could see the gleam in her eye.

Dr. Fleming reset our bomb and we gave it another try—with the same result. Our third, fourth, and fifth attempts were no better. By the time we left class, everyone was covered in black soot. Well,
almost
everyone. Sophie and Miranda were as spotless as when they’d walked in.

“That was fun!” Sophie chirped.

“Yeah!” Miranda gushed. “I can’t wait to see what Dr. Fleming gives us tomorrow!”

“Teacher’s pet,” Milton muttered.

Our next class was PE. After trading our ties and khakis for T-shirts and gym shorts, Milton and I met up with Sophie and Miranda in the center of the basketball court. Lots of other seventh graders were milling around waiting for class to begin—including the tough-looking group we’d seen the day before in the cafeteria. The biggest (and hairiest) was the guy Cassie had called Winston.

As I approached, he shot me an unfriendly smile, offering another glimpse of his sharp fangs.

The PE teacher was Coach Stillwell, a middle-aged guy with a massive mustache and a tiny pair of shorts. “Today’s activity,” he said, “is dodgeball.”

Winston’s deadly grin widened. “This is gonna be fun.”

Tugging at his undersized shorts, Coach Stillwell selected Winston as one team captain. And for some reason, he singled me out as the other.

For his team Winston chose his posse from the cafeteria. Which basically included anyone who looked eager for the chance to knock someone’s head off with a rubber ball.

My picks were Sophie, Milton, Miranda, Cassie, and a bunch of the kids who’d shared our table at dinner.

“The rules are simple.” Coach Stillwell shuffled across the court, placing rubber balls on the centerline. “You get hit, you’re out. Throw a ball that your opponent
catches before the first bounce, you’re out. First team to eliminate the other side wins. Have fun, and try not to get killed.”

Stepping to the sideline, Stillwell blew the whistle. The game began.

I’d played dodgeball a few times before, but never like
this
.

Winston and the rest of his team rushed forward like an attacking army. I was still standing there like an idiot when the first ball was launched in my direction. It was radiating an eerie green glow, as if someone had just dipped it in a pool of radioactive sludge. I would’ve started the game off with a faceful of toxic rubber if I hadn’t hit the deck just in time.

Rising to my hands and knees, I caught a glimpse of a red-eyed girl on Winston’s team. She was holding a ball in front of her chest. When she removed her hands, the ball remained in place, drifting between her palms, surrounded by waves of red light. It was a disturbing sight, and it only grew worse when she trained her red eyes on me. The energy field crackled and sparked. And even though the girl’s
hands never moved, the ball shot forward like it had been fired out of a cannon.

I rolled sideways, feeling a rush of wind sweep past as the ball missed me by less than an inch.

“You can run!” Winston screamed from across the court. “But you can’t hide!”

Glancing around, I realized that several of my teammates had already been eliminated. And more were dropping like flies. A scrawny kid was pegged in the back as he tried to escape to the bleachers. Veronica hung from the ceiling rafters—at least until a fastball from Winston brought her back to earth.

By the time Sophie got her hands on a ball, her skin was glowing like a fluorescent bulb. She lunged and threw the ball. It ripped through the air and slammed into Red Eyes with the force of an eighteen-wheeler, knocking her into the bleachers.

“Lucky shot,” Winston snarled. As he reached for a ball, hair sprouted from his arms and neck. His fingernails grew into ultrasharp claws. His bulging biceps ripped the sleeves of his T-shirt. His eyes had turned into yellow canine slits, and slobber dripped down his long fangs.

He was becoming a … wolf.

One look at him made me miss the bullies back in Sheepsdale. This guy wasn’t even the same
species
as Joey and Brick.

Releasing a piercing howl, Winston reared back and launched the ball at Cassie. One second she was standing there like an easy target; the next she was gone, replaced by a pillar of silver smoke. As the ball flew harmlessly past, the smoke whipped a few feet to the left and re-formed into Cassie.

“What’s the matter?” Cassie shot a sarcastic grin across the court. “Hair get in your eyes?”

“Real funny!” Winston growled. “Too bad yer gonna be leaving this court on a stretcher.”

Winston yanked a ball out of a teammate’s hands and hurled it straight at Cassie. Another near miss. His next shot was aimed at Miranda. But she was ready for the throw before it even left his hand. She leaped sideways, performing a one-handed cartwheel-flip combo. Only Miranda could make dodgeball look like a professional acrobatics display.

The ball bounced off the bleachers and right into my hands. Before the other team had a chance to react, I took aim and threw. A wave of energy surged through my entire body. The ball burst into flames and shot across the court like a comet. It grazed a kid near the sideline. The kid trudged off the court, wiping his charred sleeve.

The game raged on. Eventually, the only one left on the other side of the court was Winston. He was hunched over, panting. The best part: all the ammunition was on our side. Everyone on our team had a dodgeball (Sophie had two) and Winston was empty-handed.

“Let’s give this hairball a taste of rubber,” Cassie said.

“What’re you wimps waiting for?” Winston screamed. Slobber sprayed all over the free-throw line. “Afraid I’ll bite? You couldn’t hit me with a—”

The rest of his speech was silenced by a barrage of dodgeballs that knocked him clear out of his gym socks.

“I could get used to this!”

Miranda looked like she’d won the lottery. On top of the skills she’d shown with time bombs and dodgeballs, she’d impressed everyone during sixth-period Basics of Antigravity.

The same couldn’t be said for me and Milton. He’d spent most of the class upside down, and I was still dizzy from head-butting the ceiling.

“Anyone up for some Ping-Pong?” Sophie asked as we exited the cafeteria.

“Sure!” Miranda said.

Milton sized up the competition: one person who could smash the ball into oblivion and another who could predict where Milton would hit his shot before
he
did.

“All right, but no superpowers.” He glanced at Sophie. “If you start glowing, I quit.” He turned to Miranda. “And if you’re a Senser, you have to play with … uh … with your eyes closed.”

“Fine with me,” Sophie said.

“Same here.” Miranda glanced my way. “How about you?”

“I’ll pass,” I said.

“You sure?”

I nodded. My last experience with Ping-Pong had ended with a flaming paddle and lots of apologies.

“I think I’ll do a little looking around,” I said.

“Suit yourself.”

The others rushed off toward the rec room. I went the other way. Past windows that looked out on the dark sea. Outside, sheets of rain pounded the inky-black water. At the end of the hall was a trophy case. I paused long enough to scan the gleaming golden awards.
First Place: Hover Scooter Relay … Sixteenth Annual Zombie Roundup Award … National Champion: 50,000-Yard Dash
.

My footsteps echoed up the stairway. At the top was the tall wooden door that led into the Alumni Hall, followed by a display of antique superhero uniforms. The sounds of other students had faded. I was completely alone in the dark hallway.