Reject High (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 1) (4 page)

We walked side-by-side to two vacant seats. I ate two bites of my hamburger before checking underneath the bun for a National Hockey League logo printed on the meat.
That’s enough of that.
I’d take my chances with the fries.

After finishing them, I walked over to the trash can and dumped the contents of my tray. Along the far wall, Selby joked with a few other jocks. I wanted to let him know I wouldn’t be bullied, so I stared him down. Selby looked away, as if he was scared of
me
. That’s when I noticed an inch-long cut in my favorite Oakland Raiders t-shirt from our last family vacation three years ago.

“What’s wrong?” Rhapsody showed real concern as I held up the bottom of my shirt and examined it.

“Selby cut my shirt, that’s what.” I’d had enough. There were a few minutes left in lunch, and I didn’t care what I promised Debra. I wasn’t going to let an upperclassman punk me for the next month.

When the guys around Selby started backing away from me, I paused. What were they seeing? Selby, I think, was 5‘5”, which is short for a linebacker, but still a couple inches taller than me. I thought he’d laugh, but he didn’t.

“What do you want,
Freak?”
he asked. His expression screwed with annoyance.

That was his problem. I didn’t care anymore. My body tensed, and for once I tried to press the anger down and gain control of it, like my psychologist, Susan Lin, said I should learn to do. 

“I’ll say this once,” I said, fully meaning it. He probably needed me to say it twice – he was a D-student athlete at an alternative school. “Leave me alone.”

“Yeah,” he said with bravado. “Or what?”

That’s when it happened, and I didn’t black out.

Before I could think better of it, I reared my arm back and threw a punch – not at Selby, but right next to his head. Kind of the way gangsters in movies do things just to scare someone into acting the way they wanted him to. That’s what I must’ve been thinking. . .except the wall was solid concrete. I did it so fast that I couldn’t pull the punch if I wanted to.

I closed my eyes, expecting to hear the crunch of my bones giving against the surface. Instead, I heard a crumble and a bunch of chattering.

“Did you see what he just did?”

“. . .the wall. . .”

When I opened my eyes, I saw Selby, who had fainted at my feet, and a fist-sized hole in the concrete.

CHAPTER FIVE

I play in traffic

There’s no lying
this one
away.

Powdered white evidence covered my fingers, like I’d clapped a hundred chalkboard erasers. It smelled like clay and was caked underneath my nails. I guess this is what they mean by a “smoking gun.”

Maybe juvie or the Black Hole won’t be so bad. Who was I kidding?
It’s over. Debra will show up to Welker’s office with a one-way bus ticket. I’m going someplace with corn fields.

It’s weird to be stared at, but at least the kids in the cafeteria did it in a good way. Even Art Girl noticed me walking out and mouthed, “Hi.” If she was “Selby’s girl,” she wasn’t anymore.

For the second time in two days, I sat in the principal’s office – this time, by myself. I got the impression I’d be here for a while, so I looked around. Welker used to be a history teacher and it showed. A black marble bust of someone old and famous, Shakespeare, I’m guessing, stood guard in the corner. Part of me wanted to rub its head for luck.

A map of our county hung on the wall, with green, yellow, pink, and blue push pins stuck in different spots. His window curtains were yellow and thin – you could see through them without trying. A Civil War chessboard next to the windowsill had lost a Union general, queen, and bishop, and a Confederate general and queen.

On his desk, my red disciplinary folder stood out like a blown-out Christmas tree light. Anyone would think it’s an impressive bit of work, but it’s not. I bet
everything
was in it – like the time in fifth grade I dared Joey Catagno to stuff a whole box of raisins up his nose. It wasn’t like I forced him to do it.

What else was in there?
I started looking. The first yellow paper was for “inappropriate sexual behavior,” which must’ve been my kiss with Rhapsody. The second was the Ryan Cain fight. I dug deeper and could not believe it went back
nine years,
from all of my different schools. The contact sheet had a number for Ray with the area code 323, which sounded like it might not be that far away. A part of me wanted to call him and say all sorts of things. I scribbled the number on my hand with a purple marker from Welker’s desk and dropped back into the chair.

When he came in, Debra was right behind him, wearing her postal uniform. I’d hoped she had not picked up an afternoon shift. She usually worked early mornings since they were phasing out Saturday delivery in a couple of months.

I should’ve rubbed Shakespeare for luck.  

Her eyes drilled invisible holes into my face. Looking back at her would hurry trouble, so I stared at the ground. I’d done something wrong while doing something right. I might not get a statue made of me, but kids would make me a legend. They’d talk about me. Selby wouldn’t bully them tomorrow. I tried not to look too satisfied with myself.

“Mrs. Brown, I called you because. . .”

“Ms.
Brown,” she corrected him.
  

“Sorry, Ms. Brown. I called you in this afternoon, because Jason punched a hole in the cafeteria wall today and a student passed out.”

I promised not to use my fists on
people
, not things. Debra didn’t see it that way. She cleared her throat, which meant I shouldn’t speak. “Excuse me? Is the student alright?”

“A little shaken up, but fine. Nobody’s pressing charges for anything. Honestly, it’s a good thing Jason didn’t hit a gas pipe, or something else,” he joked. “How did you do that without breaking your hand, anyway?”

I shrugged.

Debra grunted and dug into her pocketbook. “How much for the damage?”

Five of his soldier chess pieces are missing. Where are they? Did he lose them, or never buy them in the first place?
Maybe he’s buying them, piece by piece?   

“Well, as you know, the building is scheduled for demolition.” He folded his hands, which made me stress a little less. “The custodians will patch that up with spackle.” He redirected his attention toward me. “You take karate, I’m guessing?”

Just to be on the safe side, I nodded in agreement. “Yup.” It’s true. There were those Tae Kwon Do lessons Debra made me take at a dojo downtown. In three days, I found out that Adderall doesn’t help me calm down enough to meditate and girls look terrible in karate uniforms. 

“Ms. Brown, I’m more concerned about your stepson’s behavior than anything else.”

Thank God he remembered to call me her “stepson,” or she would have taken his head off. She practically adopted me, which I guess makes my epic screw-ups easier to swallow. If Zachary, my little brother, grows up to be bad, she’ll probably blame his badness on my father’s side. Like Ray, I’m hotheaded. Unlike me, he never seriously damaged anyone, at least not physically. 

Debra threw up her hands. “I’m open for suggestions. Short of smacking him around with a baseball bat, I can’t think of anything else that might work.”

“Well, there is
one option
I think you may want to consider. No bats, please.”

I rubbed my knuckles and realized, though I’d punched through concrete,
my hand didn’t even
hurt
. The closest I ever got to real martial arts was watching
The Karate Kid
. What are the odds I could pull a move like that without practice or training, a trillion to one? Even though it was “wrong” it was pretty freaking amazing – especially since I’ve never punched
through
anything. Then a thought paralyzed me. What if I had hit Selby
that hard?   

Before I realized it, both of them stared at me, like I had zoned out for a while. “What?”

“Well?” Debra asked me. “What do you have to say for yourself? Mr. Welker could’ve kicked you out of here. The
least
you could have done was pay attention.”

Apologies were second nature, so I peeled one off the top of my deck. “Umm. . .I’m sorry, and I’ll never do it again?”

“And?”
She turned her head so that Welker could not see her and mouthed, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” I said as sincerely as I could. “Thank you, Mr. Welker.”

“Dungeon duty until the last day of school,” he said. I guessed he’d noticed my cluelessness. “Go home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

We all stood up at the same time, and Debra grabbed me around the forearm. I matched her pace – otherwise, she’d probably have dragged me out of the school. What’s next? Did he tell her about the detention I already had? I doubted that. The baseball bat thing was a joke. She never hit me, and, to be honest, the grounding thing was lame anyway. I’d gotten used to sitting in a white room with nothing to keep me company. This go-round I’d figure out how I’d managed to pulverize the wall – it wasn’t
that
old. 

I knew something
really bad
was about to happen when I spotted the white pizza box lying underneath the back window. True, Debra bought us pizza every week, but always on
Friday.
It’s
Monday
. That meant terrible news. Pizza on off days started the day we moved out. After that, whenever something world-class crappy happened, she picked up a pie. Today’s lunch was gross and I barely ate, but I didn’t want a slice. She should just drop the news on me,
right here, right now.

“Go ahead and tell me,” I said, expecting the worst. “You’re sending me to the Black Hole.” 

Debra blinked hard a few times, but tears trailed down her cheeks anyway. “I can’t do this anymore, Jason.”

“Do what?” I knew what she meant, but I needed to hear her say it out loud.

“I can’t raise you by myself. You need more than I can give you.”

The truth burned up the inside of my heart. She was right. I cursed, anyway. “Quit crying already. You don’t care about me, any more than my father does. Welker didn’t even kick me out!”

“Jason. . .”

I held up the evidence of my ripped shirt. “That kid cut my shirt. See this? He’s been bullying me since I got there. What am I supposed to do, let him beat on me?”

By now, both of us were crying wildly, and I couldn’t see through my tears. Debra and my baby brother were the only two people on the planet who ever wanted anything to do with me.

Maybe Rush was right. I am trash – that’s why everyone wants to throw me away.
Way down inside I felt empty, bottomless. I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

She pressed down the accelerator as we hit the highway on-ramp and she wiped her eyes on her collar. “Ms. Coker has a spot open at Hidden Potential, and I think the day-to-day structure will do you some good.”

Broken inside, with my lip trembling, I muttered out, “I’ll run away first. You’ll never find me.”

Her tears wet dark spots on her baby blue uniform shirt. She must honestly think this was the only way. She reached her right hand for mine, and I snatched it away. If she
really
loved me, there wouldn’t be a pizza in the car, and she wouldn’t be sending me away.   

“When you can have visitors, I’ll come and bring Zachary. He’ll miss you.
I’ll
miss you.”

“Save it,” I snapped, cutting her off. “That’s crap. I’ll make it on my own, wherever. I’m gone.”

“Jason, I. . .”

“Don’t!” I punched the dashboard. I’d been kicked out and tossed around more times than I’d like to count.

Debra changed lanes, almost hitting the cherry red station wagon passing her on the right. When she swerved left to avoid it, we grazed the concrete barricade and another vehicle rear ended us, sending the our car in a spin across the highway.

I closed my eyes to keep the motion from making me sick, but it made things worse. So I opened them. The Jupiter had stopped in the far right lane, facing the opposite direction of traffic. We had seconds before the honking tractor trailer headed our way would smash into us.

Thinking fast is not something I’m good at, so instincts must have taken over. I unbuckled us both. The next thing I knew, I was holding Debra in my arms in a ditch on the side of the road and pieces of our totaled car had landed nearby. My stepmom was breathing,
barely.
I carefully laid her down on a soft stretch of grass and tried to use my cell phone. No signal. We used the same carrier, so her phone would be useless, too, if she had it in her pocket. 

“Help!” I yelled. Looking down at her, I started thinking the worst. Even if she was going to ship me off to the Black Hole, she was all Zachary and I had. She couldn’t die.

I trudged up the hill and saw the Jupiter’s remains and the tractor trailer. I couldn’t see the driver. Vehicles whizzed by me, but none bothered to stop. The next exit was three miles away. Walking that far to get help would take hours, so I ran to the tractor that hit us and opened the door.

The driver was slumped down in his seat and bloodied from the stomach down.
Dead.
No sign of a cell phone either, and I twisted every knob on his radio, but it didn’t work for me.

I hopped down, and the necklace Rhapsody gave me warmed against my neck. If the crystal gave me the strength to punch through a wall, then maybe I could run fast, too? After all, the biggest muscles in the human body are in the legs. I ran, as fast as possible toward the next exit. I was wheezing about ten yards down the road.

There goes that theory
. I blamed it on the books in my backpack for slowing me down.

I yelled and waved my arms. Nobody stopped to help us, which really ticked me off. My stepmom was dying and another guy was dead.
Nobody can at least pull over and call the police?
I got closer to the white line at the edge of the highway than I should have. Then I moved closer to the speeding cars – a few people honked and cursed at me. I didn’t care. Somebody was going to stop.

“Help us! Please!” I screamed as loud as I could.

Before long I drifted into the last highway lane. Call it a death wish, but I had no plans to get clobbered or to let Debra die. She’d sacrificed enough for me as it was.

One car appeared to slow down, but it just might have been the way I looked at it. It was maroon with a pointy grill and a weird ornament hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Thank God,” I said. My heart thumped double time the closer it got to me. All the moisture in my mouth evaporated. What if this guy never stopped driving and hit me? What if the cafeteria thing was a fluke after all and I wasn’t any stronger than I was yesterday?

Instead of pulling over and slowing down, the vehicle sped up almost as if its driver intended to hit me. 

When it was close enough for me to feel the heat of the metal, I dove for cover and jumped higher than I ever had before.