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Kickin' Butts and Takin' Names

I drew my jacket edges together, shivering in the cold November air, and jogged straight to class, not even bothering to stop at my locker first. I was ridiculously eager to see Julie, and as soon as I let myself think that, I forced myself to slow down. “Friends. That's all,” I repeated.

I saw Brandon. “Hey, Brandon!” He burrowed into his jacket and kept walking.

What the hell was that about?

Relax, dude.

At least Kenny was speaking to me. I didn't know why that was comforting.

Told
you, bro. I'm a gift.

Yeah. Whatever.

I grabbed my seat, opened a notebook, and reviewed my work. I was the only member of my team in speech class so far. Then the airhead brigade arrived, the scent of mousse, body spray, and flavored lip gloss trailing behind them. They spotted me. I quickly averted my eyes. No eye contact. That was the first rule of staying incognito. I occupied my time jotting down the highlights of an article I'd found in one of Dr. P's waiting room back issues that supported our law.

The air changed. A subtle shift that made my skin tingle. I lifted my eyes, watched Jeff and Julie walk into the room together. His lips twisted into a smirk, so I watched Julie instead. She settled into her seat. Her eyes met mine, held. Where my skin tingled before, it almost sizzled when she grinned. I hardly heard Paul and Lisa sit down and say good morning.

“Just friends,” I repeated.

“Okay, everyone, let's get started.” Mr. Williams walked to our team, dropped a pile of handouts on Lisa's desk. I took one, read the list of topics.
School
terms
should
be
twelve
months
instead
of
ten.
Hm.
Smoking
should
be
banned
in
all
public
places
. Okay.
Hunting
for
sport
should
be
banned.
Good luck. Mr. Williams was now taping signs to the walls in each corner of the classroom. The first said, “Strongly Agree.” It was joined by “Agree,” “Disagree,” and “Strongly Disagree.” “You have one minute to decide your position on the first topic. I want you each to consider not just how you feel about the topic but why. Then get up and stand in the appropriate corner. Ready?” He pulled a stop watch from his pocket and clicked it. “Decide.”

Over the cacophony of chairs scraping the floor, shoes squeaking, and voices laughing, the entire class met up under the “Strongly Disagree” sign in the front corner by the window.

“Hm. I shouldn't be surprised.” Mr. Williams smirked. “Guess nobody wants to go to school all year.” He crossed his arms, grinned like the devil. “Now convince me why it's a bad idea.” His eyes scanned the crowd gathered beneath the sign and settled on me.

Of course.

“Mr. Ellison! Enlighten me.”

My face heated when I felt everyone's eyes on me while I scrambled for something to say. “Uh, um, summer jobs, summer internships. Both are important for seniors considering college, and a twelve-month school term would eliminate opportunities.”

“Excellent.”

Kiss
ass.

I smirked at Kenny and turned to watch one of the airheads blush and stammer her way through a response. “Um, well, like, summer is for the beach and you know—”

“No, Ms. Magee, I don't know. What about the beach?”

“Um, well, society relies on the money people pay to use the beach, and if teens are still in school throughout the summer, the economy could, like, suffer?”

Williams angled his head. “Better. Next. How about Ms. Murphy?”

“Yeah, okay. How about the increase in taxes in an already-strained economy for the funds needed to pay the staff for two more months of service?”

“Excellent. Mr. Oliva.”

“Yeah, I got nothin'.”

The class erupted in laughter.

“Not good enough, Mr. Oliva. Find a reason.”

“Okay, what about tourism? If summer vacations end, so does the tourism industry.”

“Eh. Weak, but I'll take it. Mr. Dean, your turn.”

“Yeah. What about electricity and utility bills?”

“I don't know, Mr. Dean. What about them?” Mr. Williams responded, and the entire class laughed.

“Well, all classrooms would need air-conditioning, and some are pretty old.”

“Good point. Next!” Mr. Williams moved on until each student made an argument.

“Okay, next topic. You have one minute to decide your position. Ready? Decide!”

For the topic on whether smoking be banned in all public places, I hurried over to the “Strongly Agree” corner. This time, the class was more evenly divided among the four choices.

Williams clicked his stopwatch. “Time! Ah, now we've got ourselves a debate. Okay, in my two ‘Strongly' corners—I want to know if I've got nonsmokers in the ‘Strongly Disagree' corner and smokers in the ‘Strongly Agree' one.” He crossed one hand over the other as he pointed. “This makes for a more compelling argument.”

A quick glance around the company in my corner told me we were all pretty much nonsmokers. Everyone was shaking their heads, pointing at each other. Except for Julie. She looked a bit sheepish. When I cocked an eyebrow at her, she shrugged. “Former, still-recovering smoker.”

“Okay.” Mr. Williams clicked his stopwatch. “Strongly Agree, you're up.”

We all stared at Julie, waiting for her to step up.

“Um. Yeah. I used to smoke in tenth grade. Until I got caught and was grounded. I was pretty much forced to quit. And I'm glad I did. The problem is that smoking is not just a personal choice. It affects everyone standing close to the smoker. So people who choose to smoke are forcing me to join them because I can't exactly hold my breath while I'm at the beach or walking into a building. And for those of us who quit, sometimes that's just way too tempting.”

Mr. Williams applauded. “Well said, Julie! Okay, let's hear from the ‘Strongly Disagree' side.”

One of the airheads spoke. “I don't smoke, but I don't think it's fair that people who do are treated like lepers or something, forced to stand behind some wall with others of their kind. It's a form of discrimination.”

“That's lame, Ashley,” some guy from the “Agree” corner said. “They're not segregated because they're smoking. They're segregated because the smoke was proven hazardous to those around them.”

“Yeah, so for the few minutes it takes for someone to finish a cigarette, people can move if they don't want to inhale too,” Jeff added from the “Strongly Disagree” corner.

“How far?” I spoke on a sudden inspiration. “The chemicals in the smoke you guys exhale lingers long after you do. They're still in the hotel rooms after you check out and in the rental cars after you return them. How far do I have to go to avoid your smoke when it's so, so permanent?”

I grinned when I felt a hand clap my back.

“So maybe you should just not breathe,” Jeff said, fist-bumping a guy who found the comment hilarious. “No big loss if you, um, die.”

A morbid thought crossed my mind. If I died today, only two people in the whole world would mourn me. I couldn't even count my own grandfather. An elbow jerked me out of that misery.

Julie gave me a funny look. “Ignore him. He's just trying to piss you off.” I managed a tight smile and a nod.

“Okay, okay, let's keep the personal arguments out of the debate. Mr. Cutler, I believe you had a point to make?”

The kid named Cutler said, “Yeah, I was gonna say that's why hotels and car renters ask if you want smoking or nonsmoking, so people who are bothered by the odor have a choice. What's wrong with just, you know, continuing that instead of outlawing smoking altogether?”

The rest of the guy's argument faded into the background when I sensed Julie's eyes on me. I turned, caught her gaze. “What?”

She shrugged. “You're good at this.”

“Arguing?”

“No. Thinking on your feet. I am so nervous.”

“You did great.” I grinned. Her eyes widened, and her mouth went slack for a minute.

Easy, Romeo.

I grinned wider. I'd been told I had a killer smile.

Kenny's derisive snort echoed in my mind.
Yeah, by Mom. Are you really counting that?

I ignored Kenny. I was having fun. Class ended all too soon. I decided to find Brandon, find out if he was mad at me or something.

I headed to his locker but didn't see him. It was nearly time for homeroom, and those were assigned alphabetically, so I started in that direction when I caught sight of Brandon down at the far end of the corridor.

I walked closer and was about to call out his name when I saw him glance around and shove a folded piece of paper through the slats in one locker.

It wasn't his locker.

What the hell was he up to?

“Hey, Brandon!” I called, and he leaped about two feet high.

“Jesus, Dan.” He clutched his chest. “You scared the piss out of me.”

“Sorry,” I smiled. “Isn't your homeroom back that way? What are you doing down here?”

“I'm not doing anything!”

My grin faded. “Yeah, okay. Don't bite my head off.”

“I gotta go. I'm gonna be late.”

With a squeak of shoes on linoleum, he was gone.

Weird, man.

Definitely.

Just as I turned into my own homeroom, I heard a locker open behind me. It was Jeff. He bent to retrieve the folded paper I'd just seen Brandon shove inside his locker. As he read it, his face tightened into an expression of pure malice.

A shiver skated down my back.

————

“Kenny.” I was in the privacy of my car, but the little deviant was hiding. “Come on, Kenny, I need your help.”

Keep
your
panties
on, Danielle.
He was suddenly sitting beside me.

About time.

You're lucky I answer you at all. You treat me like crap.

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped my mouth. Me? You're the one who never lets me forget what I did to Liam. Here, it's about to start all over again, and instead of helping me stop it, you'd rather make popcorn and watch.

Doesn't matter what I want. Only what you want.

He made a valid point. I didn't often see his wants as relevant. In this case, however, Kenny's wants were entirely relevant.

I know what you want, Kenny. You help me stop this, and I'll give it to you.

He rolled his eyes and smirked.
Yeah. Right.

I'm serious, Kenny. Brandon's planning something. I have to stop him.

And
how
exactly
are
we
supposed
to
do
that?

No idea. That's why I need your help. You kept me alive when I was trapped in that hellhole. Help me do the same for Brandon. Please.

In
exchange
for?

Julie.

Kenny's eyes gleamed. I supposed that meant mine gleamed too.
Take
Brandon
home.

With a jerk of his chin, he alerted me to Brandon walking between some parked cars.

I hit the horn, startling him. “Want a ride?”

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Nah, I can take the bus.”

“Come on, man. I'm heading over to Julie's anyway.”

“I don't need a friggin' baby-sitter.”

I inclined my head. “Brandon, I thought you were my only friend in this place. You telling me I'm wrong?”

A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips. “Thought Julie was your friend?”

I shrugged. “Julie's a girl, man.”

He stared at me, disbelief plain, and finally climbed into the passenger seat.

————

The days passed. Kenny was still acting, well, weird. Brandon was growing more sullen by the day. And Julie and I were…still friends. We'd been working on the big speech project after school with Paul and Lisa whenever we had the time. I liked them. Paul had an after-school job. Lisa had her club activities. It was cool, almost like having real friends.

Because Julie and I were the only ones with nothing going on after school, we often found ourselves alone—now that I'd stopped making up excuses to avoid her. Today was Wednesday. There was a study date scheduled for this afternoon. I tried not to be jacked about it when I pulled into the student parking lot that morning and cut the engine.

Heads
up, man.