Undertow (24 page)

Gabriel won't stop his rant. “So now you shut me out completely?”

“I have a lot going on.”

“Or maybe it's because you're giving it up to someone else, or should I say some
thing
else?” he seethes. “Aren't you afraid you'll get one of its diseases?”

I can't help it. A stream of curse words sprays all over him. I unload every frustration and bad thought I have ever had about him, multiply them by a thousand, and top them with colorful metaphors and emasculating insults. To put a period on it, I pull back and smack him right in the face. I am my father's daughter, and no amount of lectures about me keeping my head down will change what's in my DNA.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Doyle says. I turn to find his eye, and every other, trained on me. I turn bright red, but I'm not embarrassed. I'm furious and I want everyone to see it.

“No,” Gabriel says as he holds his raw cheek.

When Doyle returns to his speech, Shadow leans forward. “Gabe, I'm going to tell you this once. You shut your mouth right now or I am going to knock you out.”

“Bring it on, fatty,” Gabriel growls.

Shadow stands, and the people around us “ooohhh” with anticipation.

“Gabriel Bowen,” Doyle bellows.

“What?” Gabriel snaps.

“Come down here and join us in the front row,” Doyle says.

“What? He started it,” he shouts, and points to Shadow.

Doyle gestures to an empty seat, and Gabriel stalks down to sit in it.

When Shadow sits down, Bex slips her hand into his. “I am crazy in love with you, Tito.”

Shadow becomes a big, red, grinning idiot.

“Mr. Doyle, I'd like to say something,” Mr. Ervin says. He stands and joins Doyle at the podium. The principal looks like he just dug out a bitter seed from between his teeth, but he lets Ervin talk. I'm positive he only allows it because it will make Bachman's head explode. She crosses her arms and huffs. Hilarious.

“Welcome back. It's good to see you all safe and sound,” he starts. “People, I'm going to be completely honest with you. All the experts have suggested that what we need here is some sense of routine. I've been instructed to just move on like nothing happened. Well, I can't do it, and I'm probably going to get fired for saying this, but routine is the last thing we need. We need a whopper of a change.

“Almost two weeks ago a man came into these halls to hurt us. All of us. Not just the Alpha kids, but human kids too, teachers, staff—all of us. He wanted to hurt the whites and the blacks and the Asians and the Latinos. He didn't care who you were or where you came from. He wanted you dead. One of our own let him in so he could try to stop the community we're trying to build here. He wanted to kill us because he didn't get his way. Luckily, he was stopped, but there are more just like him. Keeping them out is our job, and we blew it. The country, the state, the city—this school—they failed you. The cops and the soldiers failed you. The administration failed you. I failed you. And you failed yourself.”

“You're blaming the kids for what that man did?” Bachman cries.

“Yes, I am, Governor. Oh, and I blame you, too.”

“How dare you!” she cries.

“You're a miserable sideshow act, Governor. This ridiculous circus you lead drove that man over the edge. His blood is on your hands.”

I look around to see how everyone is reacting to Ervin's accusation. There are a couple of kids in the back scowling, but for the most part we're all listening. Even Ghost and Luna are giving him their attention.

“You're insane,” Bachman shouts.

Ervin laughs in her face. It's a raw, mocking sound. I had no idea he could be sarcastic. I like him even more this way.

“The Alpha are here, folks, and we have an opportunity that no other generation in the history of the world has ever had. We get to talk to a completely new species of person, with a culture that is thousands of years old. They have a language and art and science no human has ever witnessed. You are the envy of billions, and you all took a crap on it. What a waste.”

Someone in the back tells him to go to hell.

“And I bet some of you wanted to meet them but you were afraid of the thugs who used to run this school. They stomped around here with their stupid T-shirts. Well, they're gone. We don't need them here. They don't deserve to have this experience. Now you can all start over and try to get to know these kids. Talk to them. Ask them questions. They have lived lives you can barely imagine. They lived underwater! Do you get it, kids? This is like walking on the moon.

“We could have prepared you better. We could have guided you toward each other. I don't know. We could have done lots of things differently than we did. For that, I apologize, but I ask you, what did you do? Did you help? Because if you didn't, you are no better than the boy who opened the door and let the lunatic in here. If you painted nasty words on a locker, you let the lunatic inside. If you bullied the new students, you let the lunatic inside. When you won't give new faces a chance, you open the door and invite madmen into our halls. And you saw what happened. All of us suffer. Which one of you will open the door and let the next one in?”

The crowd is stone still.

“So here's my idea. Every day since the school year started, you have had to weed through a bunch of idiots just to get inside. They're out there: the blowhards, the gangstas, and even our favorite politician. There's nothing we can legally do to make them go away, but you can show them they are wasting their time. You can tell them all that this is our school and they need to stay out. Tell them we've let the last lunatic into Hylan, damn it!”

There's applause and laughter. I'm not sure if it's just teenage rebellion, but who cares? It's pissing Bachman off, so it can't be bad.

“Come to this school with an open mind,” Ervin continues. “You don't have to be friends with the new students. All you have to do is be respectful, just like you are with everyone else who is different from you. There are kids from every corner of the world here, who practice different religions, speak different languages, and you didn't have a rumble every single day. And that goes for the Alpha kids too. Stop with the crap. Get to know us.”

Doyle steps forward, and Ervin reluctantly surrenders the microphone.

“Thank you, Mr. Ervin,” he says. “I couldn't have said it better myself. In fact, I think he's just given me a great idea. Could Lyric Walker please come up here?”

I reluctantly stand and make my way to the podium, but I'm cooking Doyle with my eyes at every step. What is he doing? He knows I need to remain under the radar, and he's risking that for his stupid games. When I get to the podium, he flashes me his conspiratorial grin and I'm reminded that I am just one of his pawns.

“All of you know Lyric, but you probably don't know what she's been up to lately. In the last few weeks, she's taken part in an experiment. Every day she has met with one of the new Alpha students. His name is Fathom.”

I feel like he's just kicked me in the gut. How can he betray me like this?

“Ms. Walker did not want to be part of this experiment. She worried that some of you would turn on her, even attack her. She was right. But I made her do it. In fact, I called her father's boss and arranged it so that if she refused me, I would have him fired. She had no other choice.”

I turn to face him, wondering if he hasn't lost his mind.

“Now it's your turn. Gabriel Bowen, Ghost, please step up here.”

And then I get it, and a huge smile comes across my face as I watch them come to the front. I know what Doyle's going to do, and no one in the world deserves it more than Gabriel.

“The two of you are assigned to each other. Ghost is going to be in every one of your classes, Gabriel. He's also going to meet with you privately every single day.”

“No way,” Gabriel says.

Doyle laughs. “I'll make sure your father knows you said that when I call him today. He works for the Department of Motor Vehicles, right?”

Gabriel's face falls.

“Tyrese White? Where are you?”

A thin black kid stands. He doesn't look happy.

“Tyrese, allow me to introduce you to Luna.”

Luna turns in her seat, and they eye each other.

“Nicolette Wilder, you will be spending time with Bumper,” he says.

Nicolette looks likes she's going to vomit.

Arcade is assigned to Lynn Plumber. Both of the girls look like they're ready to leap at each other.

Surf is placed with Dougie Harris, a scrawny freshman. Dougie looks like he's going to faint.

“I bet you're all thankful your names weren't called. Folks, they will be. Each one of you will be rotated in for a turn with your new classmates.” Doyle takes a sip from his coffee mug. “All right, let's get to class and have a good day.”

I turn to him and he's grinning. He gives me a wink.

As soon as I get a chance, I dart to the nurse's office. Doyle has just arrived and is still turning on his monitors. He looks smug, even with the nasty bruise around his eye.

“Let me guess why you're here,” he says.

“Where is he?” I ask.

Doyle was not expecting that question and his face shows it. I feel transparent.

“He gets hurt a lot,” I say. It's an honest reaction, if not completely true. “We were in a fight over the weekend—”

“Yes, I am aware of that. He's here, and he's no more injured than any other day. Mr. Lir recommended that Fathom be kept out of large group settings in case of another attack. There was also concern that the boys he attacked have brothers and sisters who go to this school. Funny, I thought you were going to ask me to reassign him.”

“Would you?” I say, trying to make it sound hopeful rather than laced with fear.

He stares at me for a long time. His eyes feel like they're flipping me over, looking at all my angles, studying every corner and edge. It makes me want to crawl behind a chair and hide.

“You have been a good influence on him, Lyric. He trusts you,” he says. “Maybe there's something about you that calms him down.”

“An Alpha thing?”

He shrugs. “Does he know?”

I shake my head. “Only you.”

“Not even your friends?”

“It wouldn't be fair to put them in danger.”

“Quite a burden to carry around,” he says, shaking his head in sympathy. I'm not sure I believe it's sincere, but if it is, maybe I can make him understand.

“That's been my life for three years, Mr. Doyle. Hiding, worrying, panicked that I'll be discovered.”

“Like the Benningfords. That was unfortunate,” he says. “Why don't you go to the beach? Your mother's people would protect you.”

“It's not an option.”

“Why?”

“My mother picked the wrong team.”

He stares at me for a long time. “Give me one more week. Five more days and I'll put him with another kid.”

“And then I get the envelope?”

He nods. “Do you know where you'll go? You know what? Don't tell me that.”

“I wasn't going to, Mr. Doyle.”

He smiles. “Smart girl. You're learning. Come see me on Friday, Lyric, and we'll say our goodbyes.”

T
he first hesitant steps to get to know the new students
are occurring all around me, tiny buds peeking out of the soil: an introduction, a small smile, a nod of acknowledgment when Ghost or Luna walks past. A girl compliments Arcade on the metal glove she wears and asks if she can buy one herself. When Bumper drops a book, three kids bend down to pick it up for her. Most people still steer clear of Surf, but miracles take time. Doyle said he'd make this place work, and as I watch it happening, I can't help but give the man his due. He is a mad, coffee-addicted genius and a manipulative liar, but I can't argue with the results.

“I wish I had my phone,” Shadow says as we walk down the hall. “This is something my fans should see.”

I wish I had mine, too, so I could play a game of “I know something you don't know” with my parents. Doyle has given us a ticket out of town, and now he's given me an exact day when it will happen. No more “We have to live beneath the smothering blanket of the unknown.” In five days we can grab our things and walk through the blockade.

“You're in a good mood,” Bonnie says when I show up for my meeting with Fathom. “Wish I could say the same for him.”

“Grouchy?”

“I was going to go with
surly,
” she says.

“Well then, I guess I'll see you guys in a few minutes when I storm out of there,” I say.

Terrance chuckles to himself and opens the door. “Good luck, Ms. Walker.”

I review a list of reasons I have compiled all morning on why my feelings for Fathom are stupid, embarrassing, and self-destructive.

• 1. Fathom has a fiancée.
  

• 2. Said fiancée has swords that come out of her arms.
  

• 3. Fathom is a brooding grouch, frequently horrible, and violent.
  

• 4. Your life with him would be an endless street fight that he doesn't have the sense to walk away from.
  

• 5. You have a history of poor decision making, so these feelings cannot be trusted.
  

• 6. You are leaving town in five days.
  

• 7. FIVE DAYS!
  

It's a very rational list. There's no arguing about these facts. I have wrapped my brain around each one and come to the obvious conclusion that it would never work between us. I feel good about my decision.
I can do this,
I tell myself, then I step through the door.

Fathom stands in the middle of the room. He isn't wearing a shirt.

“Not fair,” I whisper.