Psi Another Day (Psi Fighter Academy) (3 page)

“Who
is
he?” I felt my mouth for slobber. “He is absolutely gorgeous…”

“And famous,” Kathryn said. “Egon Demiurge is an intergalactic Mixed Martial Arts champion or something. Apparently he just moved here to train. They say he’s so good, they’re making it an Olympic sport just for him. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, will mess with him in this school. I’ll bet he’d give
you
a workout.”

“Oh, I could never fight him,” I whispered, staring absently down the hall.

“I wasn’t talking about fighting,” Kathryn said, grinning. “He’s a senior, you know.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Of all my friends, Kathryn was the first to take it to the gutter.

“Thanks,” a small voice said from behind me. I turned and found myself eye to eye with a thoroughly red-faced Bobby Blys.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Thanks,” he repeated.

“No problem. Mason’s such a jerk. What was that all about?”

“Hi-eeeeee, Bobby,” Kathryn squealed, hipping me out of the way. I grunted.

“Oh, hi, Kitty,” Bobby said quietly, blushing like a bruised strawberry.

“That was so brave, Bobby!” Kathryn smiled as though her happy sauce had kicked into high gear.

“Don’t see what’s so brave about getting smacked around by a yeti.” Bobby rubbed the rapidly swelling lump on his head.

“Actually, Mason’s a wombat,” I told him. “Although, now that you mention it, he
is
abominable.”

Kathryn elbowed me in the ribs and giggled. “Oh, don’t you just adore Bobby’s sense of humor?”

“So, what’s up with Mason?” I asked Bobby, rubbing my ribs.

He looked away. “Nothing, I…quit the Class Project. He’s mad.”

The Class Project. Besides being obsessed with beating up people who were smaller than him, Mason had a thing for this goofy school project that was sponsored by some hospital or something. Students learned about it in Chemistry, then were allowed to continue the work outside of class for extra credit if they wanted to. And Mason had launched a personal crusade to make sure they wanted to. “I heard you tell him he doesn’t know what he’s making. So…what’s he making?”

“I’m not positive.” Bobby folded his arms. “Mason thinks the Class Project is supposed to help the mentally ill. But if my research is right, the compound made in our lab can be altered in a more advanced lab—” He slowly shook his head. “If Tammy Angel is telling the truth…”

“Such a brilliant mind! Well, let’s not be late for assembly, Rin.” Kathryn took me by the hand and led me away like a puppy. “See you in Math Club, Bobby.”

We walked toward the auditorium, Kathryn grinning blankly at the tile floor like she had left her brain in her locker.

“Kitty?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And when did this happen?”

Kathryn giggled. “When Bobby joined Math Club.”

“Kathryn, you’ve been in Math Club together since it was invented.”

“But I never really talked to him until recently. He sort of avoided me.”

“Probably didn’t think he was your type. You know your dating history.”

Kathryn got the oddest look on her face. “What are you talking about, my
history
?”

Like I said, Kathryn was completely oblivious to her own popularity. “Student body president. Track captain. Football captain. Debate Team captain.” I ticked each guy she’s ever dated off my fingers. “Every awesome boy in the school wants to be with you. No wonder Bobby avoided you.”

“But Bobby is so not like them.”

“Exactly. You are gunning for a complete dweeb this time, Kathryn. Shows character. I’m proud of you.”

“I do
not
gun. Those boys asked me out. I don’t even know why.”

“I do. You have cleavage.”

Kathryn backhanded my shoulder. “Bobby is real, Rin. He’s deep. He gets me for who I am. Problem is, I think the attraction is purely intellectual. We have such amazing discussions, but they’re all about logic and math and philosophy.”

“He calls you Kitty. Nobody who has an intellectual attraction would call you Kitty.”

“Bobby says I’m a woman of great poise, elegance, and wit, like Kitty Carlisle.”

“Who’s that?”

“A woman of great poise, elegance, and wit, obviously. I don’t know, some actress from the Thirties. Maybe you can help me, Rin. How can I get him to notice me?”

“You could always try stalking him.”

Kathryn bit her lower lip and nodded. “Has potential.”

Chapter Three

A Warning

The school’s auditorium was actually very cool. Designed to seat seven hundred kids, it resembled a Greek amphitheater. Hand-carved faces of people too beautiful to have ever been real decorated the ceiling like an ancient work of Michelangelo. Murals with exotic species of trees and flowering vines covered the walls. The balcony, with its gorgeous red velvet seats, had a perfect view of the stage and the audience below. Unfortunately, it was permanently reserved for the Excessively Cool. Plebeians like me got to sit in the peasant section at ground level, which would also have been gorgeous if it weren’t plastered with spit wads and other glop whose origin I preferred not to know.

Principal Ophia Bagley paced the stage like a hungry tiger in its cage. The teachers were positioned strategically across the auditorium, two in the front row, the rest scattered along the outside aisles, attempting to give the illusion they were in control. I noticed they also had easy access to the exits in case trouble broke out.

Trouble, as usual, sat up in the balcony—Mason and his posse, three girls who called themselves the Red Team. They loved the balcony, because it made those of us who sat below them easy marks for their chewing gum missiles that, once embedded, had to be surgically removed from our hair.

My seat was as comfortable as a dentist’s chair, but it was near the front, where I would be a more difficult target. The downside to that strategy was my proximity to the stage. It would be hard to ignore the boring speech Mrs. Bagley delivered weekly. I was closer yet to Dr. Captious, my arrogant Algebra teacher. He sat smugly in the first row next to Dr. Miliron, the head of the Class Project.

“Awesomeness at three o’clock,” Kathryn whispered.

I looked to my right as Egon took the seat next to me. Instantly, all neural functions ceased. I gripped Kathryn’s wrist, trying not to squeal.

“Easy, girl,” she said.

“So,” Egon whispered in my ear, sending chills down my spine, “looks like this is the only class we have together.”

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have gotten it. Egon was being cute. The proper response would have been to make a joke about this being my favorite course, or the homework being tolerable. Instead, all my flummoxed mind could conjure was, “I know, right?”

Kathryn patted my arm. “Deep breaths, Rin. Deep breaths.”

As the principal tapped the microphone, Egon chuckled and said, “Here comes yet another enthralling show.”

I smiled and relaxed my death grip enough for Kathryn to get the circulation back in her wrist.

Mrs. Bagley continued to stare out over the crowd. To say the woman had a harsh look about her was unfair, but not totally inaccurate. She reminded me of the lady in the painting with the pitchfork-toting husband—except the lady in the painting looked happier.

Tall and thin, Mrs. Bagley wore a gray flowered dress and black granny shoes with hard, square heels. Bobby pins held her hair in a bun so tight that closing her eyes must have been painful. According to rumor, she had been an adult from birth, but I knew she was not as harsh as she seemed. I had personally witnessed moments where a kind of softness, caring and genuine affection for the students accidentally leaked through her schoolmarmish exterior.

This was not one of those moments.

“Stu-
dents
,” she said finally in a staccato voice. She waited until the auditorium quieted. “I have good news for you, and I have news that is less than satisfactory.”

“What’s the good news, Old Bag?” a voice from the back shouted. The auditorium echoed with laughter at the nasty nickname.

“For me, Mr. Rubric,” she said calmly, “good news would be a relaxing breakfast of sausage, eggs, and a honey-covered biscuit, eaten after the joyful discovery that my milk carton had your picture on it.”

Direct hit. I gave it a ten.

“But we’re not here to celebrate,” she continued. “We have received a letter from the state. People in my position do not look favorably on letters from the state, especially when said letter tells me that we have failed to meet the minimum pass rate on our standardized tests. This is distressing to me. Do any of you know what this means?”

“We have idiots for teachers,” a voice yelled from the balcony, and roars of laughter filled the auditorium. Dr. Captious laughed quietly, and whispered to Dr. Miliron, who smiled and nodded.

This sort of banter between the teachers and students would never happen in a normal school. But I didn’t go to a normal school. The teachers had lost control long ago. The few who still tried, like Mrs. Bagley, were outnumbered by the ones who had just given up. They complained that they weren’t allowed to teach anymore, that discipline was a thing of the past. Mason’s dad was part of the problem. He always said, “Patience, tolerance, and redirection. Not punishment.” Being the mayor, he had as much influence on the teachers and school board as Kathryn had on the students, which was considerable.

Mrs. Bagley banged on the microphone so violently a bobby pin popped. A curl launched from the side of her head like a broken spring from a cuckoo clock. “It
means
there are bigger problems here than you are aware of!”

“It
means
we can all sleep in. What’s the bad news?”

Mrs. Bagley tightened her lips, glaring. “I have asked for your cooperation before, but have run into certain…” She waved her hand toward the balcony. “Obstacles. Your teachers and I are equipped to deal with poor grades, however, our problem goes beyond grades. I find that I have lost my patience with asking the school board for help, and being referred to committee after agonizing committee. I have grown intolerant of our hallowed policy against punishing troublemakers who are immune to redirection. So I’ve found outside assistance to take back our school. If policy cannot help us, law surely can. Without further ado, I give you Police Chief Amos Munificent, a man who has full authority to do what needs to be done. If you show him the same respect you have shown me, I can assure you that you shall all receive detention for the rest of your natural lives.” She backed away from the microphone smiling, clapping her hands, looking expectantly out at the audience to do the same. Captious and Miliron clapped, and several people in the front row joined in.

I clapped, too. This was good. My problem was solved. The police would come in and take over, and I could tell Andy and the Kilodan that my services were no longer needed.

I was officially off the hook.

Police Chief Munificent emerged from the backstage shadows and walked to the microphone. Maybe “waddled” is a better word. He was beyond overweight, his shirttail was half in, half out, and his crooked hat made him look like a mall guard wannabe. Stylin’ he was not. I try not to judge people by their appearance, because I think you have to be a complete bonehead to do that, but to tell the truth, my excitement at being off the hook started to droop a little. Maybe he was having a bad hair day, but the man was seriously not what I expected. No
way
could he handle this crowd.

Then I noticed his eyes. Andy taught me to look at my opponents’ eyes if I wanted to see what they were really capable of. The Police Chief had the eyes of a man who meant business. He scrutinized the students in the auditorium, grimacing like we were all suspects in some horrible crime. When his gaze reached me, his face softened. He nodded and smiled as though he knew me.

“Who’s your new bud?” Kathryn asked.

“Not a clue,” I said, shaking my head.

“His name’s Egon,” Egon whispered, elbowing my ribs gently.

My head turned so quickly I was certain my neck had snapped. Egon just called himself my new bud. Was he flirting with me? I
hoped
he was flirting with me. But I couldn’t know for sure without taking extreme measures—I could scan him. No, the Kilodan would murder me. I could ask Kathryn. But how totally lame would that be with him sitting right there? Egon smiled slyly at me, green eyes melting me right into the auditorium seat.

Mr. Munificent pulled the microphone close to him and said, “I’ll get right to the point. Mrs. Bagley is correct. The problem goes beyond bad grades. Kids are being assaulted and forced to take drugs. I don’t like it.”

“Neither do the kids we beat up,” the voice in the balcony said. The auditorium echoed with laughter.

Munificent stood silently, gazing out into the sea of students. He shook his head finally and said, “You kids don’t have a clue, do you? The bullying and the drugs are just a decoy. This is about something much bigger.”

“Bigger than your gut?” the voice said.

The chief smiled like a mongoose facing off against a snake, knowing it had found an easy meal. “Look, genius, I’m not a man who’s afraid to do his job. Give me a reason, and I’ll slap cuffs on you. And believe me, I’ll enjoy it. Here’s the deal. The drug floating around this school is called Psychedone 10. It’s a twisted mutation of LSD. Ordinary LSD just makes people stupid. But this poison that you kids are into, this atrocity, this cancer…it makes people wicked. Ten years ago, I hunted a masked kidnapper who terrorized the city. He fed this drug to his victims, all children. They committed obscenities you can’t even imagine. We stopped them, but he disappeared without a trace. Now he’s back, and you kids are his target.” A hush fell over the auditorium. The Chief raised an eyebrow and said in a low voice, “What, no snappy comeback, tough guy?”

I scooted forward in my seat, suddenly interested.

“He’s using you kids to do his dirty work,” the Chief said. “You know why? Because you have enough idiots among you to make it easy.”

So the stalker had been around before. I wondered if the memories I saw were old—visions of the girls he kidnapped ten years ago. No matter, he was still out there. Kids were still in danger.

“A piece of advice,” Munificent said. “You punks who think it’s cool to push drugs or beat people up, you’re the ones who’ll take the rap for what this guy is doing. You’re his cover. He wants us to focus on you instead of him. And it’s working. The fact that I’m here now proves it. I should be out finding him. I’m the only one left on the force who understands that the man is pure evil. He’ll recruit you against your will, and when he’s done with you, he’ll kill you, and your friends will be blamed. I need your help to find out who he is. I need to stop him this time.”

“It was Professor Plum with a pipe!” the voice from the balcony shouted.

Amos Munificent glared up at the balcony, suddenly irritated. “Mason, for once in your life, shut up! This is serious. Not even your father can protect you from this man. You don’t know who we’re dealing with. I would think that someone with your history would take this more seriously.”

“Ooh,” Kathryn said. “Draudimon got told!”

“Shhh!” I elbowed her.

Munificent gazed out at the crowd and said quietly, “I’m looking for a man who covers his face with a skull mask. He’s wanted in connection with the attempted kidnapping of a ten-year-old girl. We believe he is behind the drugs in this school, as well. One of you knows him. You have no idea how much danger you’re in. I need to stop him before anyone dies. Before you die. I need your help.”

So he knew about Elmo and his nasty skull mask. Not surprising. Andy and the Kilodan always let the cops know what’s up. We’re their best source. The stalker’s image spun through my head like a pinwheel…Elmo mask, skull mask, no mask. Andy and I had gone through every mug shot in the database, but I couldn’t identify the stalker. He told me that he was working on something that would help, but I felt so useless. Tears welled up. It was my fault the stalker escaped. I had to find him.

Then it hit me.

The Kilodan was right. Crud, the man was always right. The clue I needed to find the stalker was right here at school. Munificent said one of us knew him. I just had to figure out who.

A crypt-like silence had descended on the auditorium. Most of the students had stunned expressions. Only Dr. Captious had an arrogant smirk, but he always had an arrogant smirk. I turned to the balcony. The Red Team girls were grinning smugly, but Mason Draudimon’s ghastly pale, wide-eyed expression shocked me—he was absolutely terrified. What was up with that?

Even if the police had somehow connected Mason to the stalker, that wouldn’t explain his reaction. His dad would pull strings and he’d be off the hook. So what was it about Mr. Munificent’s announcement that terrorized Mason? The drug connection made no sense. Everyone knew the drug dealers were Art Rubric and Chuckie Cuff. Mason hated drugs. There had to be something else. I needed to know what that something was.

Being off the hook had totally lost its appeal. I officially put myself back on.

Suddenly, I felt a warm shoulder leaning against me, and breath against my cheek. “If you need a bodyguard,” Egon said into my ear, “I know a few moves.”

…

With the exception of Social Studies, Business, and one study hall, Kathryn and I have every class together. It’s a nice arrangement, because I often need her to lean on. Sometimes metaphorically, other times, like today, literally. We went straight from the assembly to gym class, which I suffered through against my will. On my best day, I stunk at any sport that didn’t involve ancient weapons or hand-to-hand combat. But after the assembly, my concentration had dropped below zero, and concentration was a prerequisite for this particular gym class. Miss Jackson, our teacher, was a former dodgeball diva.

I want to be clear about this—dodgeball is not a game. It’s an evil cult activity that decent people shouldn’t associate themselves with. In ancient times, they called it “stoning.” Fortunately, I was confident that the damage I suffered to internal organs was minimal, and the throbbing red welts in the center of my back would heal in a decade or so. I limped into the empty girls’ locker room, leaning on Kathryn, moaning in exaggerated agony.

“We are awesome dodgeball players, aren’t we, Rin?”

“You played. I was a casualty. I thought they outlawed dodgeball in civilized schools.”

Kathryn shrugged. She helped me to the bench. “Since when is this place civilized? We all know that gym class was modeled after the medieval torture chamber. Damp, musty walls, scurrying insects, odors of death and critter poop—now, before the rest of the class moseys in here, let’s get back to the assembly.”