Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (2 page)

“I knew it.” He gave Darien a quick smirk and
then resumed. “I told you Darien was persuasive. You watched the
third one after I left, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t stop there. Darien
insisted that we watch the fourth one as well.”

“That’s rough. That’d put you until about
four in the morning.”

Tiredly, Ian shrugged as Darien gave him a
light smirk. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

Chuckling at the comment, Eddy grew even more
animated as he brought up another subject. “So, man, how’d that
government test go?”

His friend couldn’t have picked a worse
topic. His weak smile broke into more pieces. “Not the best. I
should’ve studied longer.”

“But you studied five hours.”

“Obviously not enough,” snapped Ian, the
conversation already making him ill.

But Eddy disregarded his irritation and just
widened his grin, his personal boasting delayed for long enough:
“Sorry to hear that, man, but guess what? I got a B+.”

To say that these words brought joy to his
soul and that he rejoiced in Eddy’s good grade would be worlds away
from the truth. He’d much rather have had Eddy flunk the exam. Yet
somehow, through this revelation, he kept his face mildly pleasant
and replied, “That’s great.”

Smiling at his words, Eddy, now done with the
topic, like a boy who couldn’t decide which candy tasted better,
abruptly switched the conversation back to Alan. “Poor lonely
Reade,” he began, in a deriding tone, oblivious to Ian’s sudden
biting glare. “Nobody wants to be his pal.”

“Quit it, Eddy. I’m not in the mood.” His
friend was pulling all the wrong strings.

Smug, Eddy rolled his pencil back and forth
across his desk like it were a toddler’s toy. “Why not? You
actually feelin’ sorry for the loser?”

Flames of fire swirled through him; he
slammed his fist into Eddy’s forearm. The professor shot him an
evil scowl, a few girls turned around with eyes in shock, and a few
guys glanced at him scientifically as if making mental notes of his
dangerous capabilities, but he wasn’t bothered. Eddy deserved
it.

Glancing at Eddy, who looked entirely
bewildered, as if he’d done nothing wrong, Ian muttered angrily,
“What?”

Eddy just squeezed his arm to ease the
throbbing. “Why’d you do that, man?”

“Because I’m sick of your immature
behavior.”

Eddy huffed in pain. “You never cared
before.”

“Well, I do now.”

Eddy just scowled and would have retorted,
but Darien stopped him. “Hey, simmer down, guys; it’s not worth
fighting about.” Glancing at Eddy, he shook his head
disappointingly. “And, Eddy, Ian’s right--you’ve really gotta stop
teasing him.”

Sneering, Eddy creased the front page of his
chemistry book. “Why?”

Darien rubbed his eyebrow in disgust. “It's
not right; besides, I know what he’s going through. I was in his
position three years ago, remember?”

A smile of recognition flickered across
Eddy’s face. “Yeah, yeah, who could forget?” He extracted a gooey
blob of white peppermint gum from his mouth and stuck it to the
bottom of his desk while the professor wasn’t looking. “But that
was before you became the team star on the tennis and football
teams and before your face healed from its large spotty acne.”

As Darien shifted uneasily in his chair
looking grieved, a grin crossed Eddy’s face. He stuck his legs on
top of his desk, and stretched them out, old memories resurfacing.
Rolling the pencil between his fingers, he added, “Yeah, and
remember those square glasses, man? Can’t see you wearing them now
… I wonder what they’d do to your popularity with the ladies?”

Darien frowned deeply, faintly blushing, as
he avoided eye contact with the girls in the row ahead of him who’d
likely overheard the whole conversation as smiles broke forth on
their faces. “That’s enough, Eddy. I just brought up my past to
make a point.”

Eddy smirked. “Fine, I’ll stop.” Bored with
his pencil now, he snapped it in half and threw the two pieces onto
the floor, smashing them into the wooden floor with his black
sneakers. As this was common behavior for him, nobody seemed to
care or take notice, except the professor, who frowned at him,
Tianna Summers, who, glancing his way, gave him a “that’s not cool”
look, and Darien, unamused, who continued to stare at him.

But unaffected by them, Eddy murmured, “So,
you think there’s hope for the computer geek?”

“Sure,” replied Darien, squinting at the
insult, his dark blue eyes steady and confident. “Just give him
some time.”

“That’ll be the day.” Eddy chuckled, slapping
his leg with mocking hilarity. “You really think the turtle’s gonna
leave his shell?”

“Yeah I do. You just wait--”

“Today, class,” interjected the middle-aged
teacher in his droll nasally voice, not wasting any time on opening
formalities, “we will be discussing electrons. After that we will
explore the exciting world of electromagnetic radiation and will
learn--” Boos issued from the class upon hearing today’s agenda,
causing the teacher to halt temporarily as he backtracked.

“I know all you want to do is learn how to
blow up things in the lab, but that is only a minuscule part of
science. If you truly want to be scientists, using a Bunsen burner,
mixing chemicals, and creating new compositions is not how to get
there. There is theory involved as well, and theory comes by
studying textbooks and listening to lectures. Besides, we’ve had a
few accidents last Friday involving corrosive chemicals … and hot
flames.” Here he gave Ian a sharp glance, causing some students to
chuckle, before adding, “Thus, for everyone’s safety, we won’t be
having any lab work this week.”

It took a few moments for the bad news to
settle, at which point the teacher briefed through his lecture
notes and readied his materials, preparing himself for another
rousing day of teaching.

Dustin Edwards, a brilliant man who’d gone to
college so that he could teach in college, failed every one of his
job interviews due to undisclosed reasons which he never cared to
explain to his students. Though he possessed, in his own words, an
extraordinary resume, an outstanding personality, and the brain of
a mechanical clock--no one ever could discover what was so good
about this last one--no interviewer liked him. He compared his
rejection to the rejection of Thomas Edison. As Edwards commonly
said, “Genius is never recognized at first, but time will prove all
things.”

His inability to secure a job as a college
professor left him desperately applying to high schools. In the
end, he got a position as a chemistry teacher, but that didn’t
satisfy him. To be able to cope with his unused doctorate degree,
he made everybody address him as professor, making it very clear to
every one of his students that he was far more intelligent than
just a teacher.

“Turn to page 138 of your textbook,” he said,
after deciding what to do, his eyes bright and warm as if he’d been
feasting on sunshine. Straightening out his glasses, he looked
Ian’s way. A cloud blocked out the sun. He shook his head in
extreme displeasure as if Ian had committed an unpardonable crime.
“Ian Hansen, take off that headband thingy. It’s absolutely
forbidden in my classroom. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Professor,” he mumbled, as he
grudgingly removed it and slipped it into his pocket. “Happy
now?”

“I am most delighted. Thank you, Mr. Hansen,”
he said insincerely, with a sickening politeness that made Ian want
to gag. “And, Eddy Sarris.” He glared at him. “Please remove your
legs from the desk. It’s not proper posture, and it’s not
acceptable school behavior. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Eddy obeyed without hesitation. A
few students smiled at him while holding back laughs.

But Edwards peered through his tilted thick
glasses at Eddy as if looking at a squashed bug or an oversized
June beetle. “Are we in the military, Mr. Sarris?”

Eddy shook his head.

“Then refrain from calling me sir and start
using my title,” he replied, clearly not amused.

“Yes, Professor Edwards.”

“And, Mr. Sarris,” he continued sternly,
pointing at the broken shards of pencil. “Before you leave class, I
want this whole room swept. Take it as punishment for littering on
school property.”

“Yes, Professor Edwards,” he replied lazily,
not even disheartened by this duty imposed on him as he usually
received far worse.

The professor immediately cheered up. “Thank
you, Mr. Sarris.” Pulling a few stapled pages of notes from off his
desktop, and holding them up somewhat close to his face, he
proceeded to briefly discuss electrons, orbitals, and then
something called the Bohr model--the name perfectly described Ian’s
feelings. He didn’t even pay attention to what page in the book
they were supposed to be on now, and he was perfectly fine with
that. Following every instruction like a fawning parrot wasn’t for
him. No one could accuse him of being a teacher’s pet.

Yawning, Ian leaned back on his chair,
stretched out his legs, and pulled his black sunglasses out of his
pocket, gently slipping them on.

But the professor quickly caught him again,
giving him even less time to enjoy his shades than he had his
bandana. “Ian Hansen.” He sighed, his face back in a storm again.
“For the last time, no bandana, no sunglasses in my classroom.
After two months, I’d think you’d get the message. Keep this up and
you’ll soon be spending your Saturday mornings in detention. Do you
hear me, Mr. Hansen?”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Professor.” Ian slid them
into a case and flung the case onto his desk, sulking and muttering
to himself. Edwards was such a killjoy.

The rest of the class though, seemed to think
this encounter was amusing, and muffled laughs were heard
throughout the room.

But the professor proceeded with his lecture
as if the confrontation hadn’t happened, a skill that came from his
many years of teaching. “Today, class, we’re going to start our
first group project.” He excitedly drew several large, dangerously
crooked ovals on the chalkboard, each one fitting haphazardly
inside one another; it reminded Ian of the orbits of the planets
around the sun. “After I randomly assign you into groups, I’ll
inform you of your task.”

At this point, Jason Miller, a self-composed
man with long raven-black hair that threatened to engulf his face,
yet looked surprisingly well on him, raised his hand.

Dustin Edwards glanced his way and stared at
him inquisitively. “Yes, Mr. Miller?”

Jason voiced his complaint, keeping his voice
polite. “Yeah, I thought you were going to let us choose our own
groups, Professor Edwards. You said so just last week.”

He was rejected. The professor grinned
hauntingly, like a mad scientist, while shaking his head
disturbingly. “I changed my mind.”

Jason retorted, while trying to maintain his
smile: “But you’ve never done this before, Professor.”

As he adjusted his glasses, his frightening
expression slipped away. “Ah, but there’s a first time for
everything.” Staring at the class roster, he beamed golden,
completing his transformation to normalcy, as he cleared his throat
and spoke, “Now let’s begin this exhilarating process.”

As the class waited apprehensively, not
sharing in his enthusiasm, the professor locked up the silence by
calling out their names, splitting them into six groups of three,
and one group of two, before giving them their assignment.

Once finished, he handed each group an
instruction sheet, as Darien nudged his friend with his elbow.
“Hey, Eddy,” he whispered into his ear. “I get to work with Hazel
and Tianna.”

“Drop it!” exclaimed Eddy, as he tightened
his lips into a menacing scowl, and kicked over a wastebasket near
the wall that was fortunately empty at the time. While Hazel Amara
and Tianna Summers were the most beautiful girls in class and also
very smart, he was stuck with Jasmine Minhart, a clumsy,
thickheaded braggart, who’d decided that bright red hair with hot
pink stripes was the fashionable hairstyle for the week, and Alan
Reade, the unsocial computer nerd who’d rather have lemon juice
squeezed into his eyes than start a conversation. Hardly fair team
splitting. The professor clearly hated him.

Glancing back at Jasmine and Alan, seeing
them already talking, or rather, seeing Jasmine talking and Alan
stupidly listening, his dominant hand scribbling notes as fast as a
court reporter could type, Eddy grit his teeth together, his rage
intensifying. “I’m not workin’ with those two,” he muttered.

Darien’s smile vanished. “Eddy, give them a
chance. Who knows, you might end up liking them.”

A snarl crossed his face at his trite
expression. “Easy for you to say. You’re with the class hotties.”
Eddy, done looking at Darien’s partners, Tianna and Hazel, both of
whom had the sweetest, most angelic smiles on their faces and the
prettiest hair, turned and focused on Jasmine, gazing in disgust at
her long ponytails that hung limply on her head like two sea slugs
and her dull, klutzy grin.

Alan wasn’t any better. The brainiest hint of
a smile on his light bulb face, he already had two paragraphs of
indecipherable instructions before him which he was now sharing
with Jasmine as quietly and turtlish as possible as if the very act
of speaking were somehow torturing his soul. The contrast between
his teammates and Darien’s was nauseating … downright barbaric.

Darien frowned at his brutal scrutiny. “Did
you ever even try talking to them, man?”

Eddy scowled--poison oozed from his lips.
“Yeah. I talked to Alan once. Turns out he hates sports.” He
wrinkled his nose at the odious memory. “And Jasmine, she’s so
stuck up that even her mom couldn’t love her.”

“Hey, watch your words.”

“Fat chance.” Eddy clenched his fists as if
ready to engage in a fight. “Those two are extreme losers. I can’t
work with either of them--that’s all there is to it.”