Second String Savior Page 2

  “Counselor Flake?” the new guy asked, intruding upon my personal table space and setting his lunch down across from me. I barely compensated for the wobble in time. Far too much of my fried goodness had been sacrificed this day already.

  “Her name is Mrs. Blake, but no one calls her that. I think she was raised in some sort of commune, possibly on another planet. Anyway, she jumps in the moment she thinks anyone is triggered. Trust me, twenty minutes of her sensitivity training is far worse than waterboarding . . . or Nickelback. The football team already had to endure her after the duct tape incident with the Chess Club, so it’s a valid threat. They also know she watches me like a hawk.”

  “Sounds truly terrifying.” The new guy had one of those nasally, upscale voices, like the villain in an eighties coming of age drama. Combined with his nice shoes and gold watch, he was one Porsche away from being a pimpled James Spader. He gave me an awkward smile. “I’m Gary, Gary Bates.”

  Huh, another “ary” name to keep track of. What were the chances?

  He kept looking at me expectantly. Guess it was my turn for an awkward grin. “My name’s Jessie. Not short for Jessica or anything lame like that.”

  He chuckled. “Gary isn’t short for anything either.”

  “Good to know. New here, or just an expert at hide and seek?”

  “Definitely new. I could lose hide and seek to my five year old nephew.” He gestured at his pair of sodas. “May I offer my knight in shining armor a frosty beverage?”

  “I never turn down free food or drink. Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bates. Anyhow, the locals here are pretty tame, other than the ’roid squad during football season. Just give it time, you’ll do fine.”

  I was just getting back to my jalapeño action when Gary said, “Nice shirt.”

  I had to look down to see which of my multitude of t-shirts graced my chest. Today’s winner was Captain America’s shield. I beamed and continued snacking, hoping he got the hint, but Gary kept talking.

  “I saw The Avengers. It was . . . entertaining.”

  I gave him the politest response I could—I remained quiet. Still he remained there, sitting at my table and expecting some sort of discourse, but the best I could manage was not chewing with my mouth open. “It was.”

  “So, you like comics and stuff?” He clearly wasn’t leaving my table without more words, so I took a deep breath and weighed all my options. They always say honesty is the best policy, right?

  “I work at my uncle’s comic book shop. I subscribe to pretty much every A-list Marvel title and even a few DC ones, so no one can say I’m a biased fangirl. I learned to read on graphic novels, and I wrote my sophomore English final on how the Dark Phoenix saga had the potential to wipe away gender bias in comics but ultimately failed. It’s the long way of saying yes, I do like comics.”

  Gary blinked a few times. I waited for his hasty retreat from my tidal wave of weirdness, but instead he simply cracked open his soda and replied, “Cool.”

  He didn’t leave, but with that at least we’d reached an understanding. He didn’t pressure me for anymore, puttering around on his phone and finishing his lunch like a civilized human being. I did make a point to ask him about the rest of his schedule. Fate had apparently conspired to give us eighth period together. “Oh, you are gonna love Mrs. Dubowski. She showed up in a toga last month for our lecture on the fall of the Roman Empire.”

  Luckily Mrs. Dubowski didn’t decide to dress up for today’s lesson on the Black Death. My afternoon had gone by uneventfully, with only one sour glare from Larry the Linebacker. I’d managed to rack up lot of homework, so it was a massive relief that Mrs. Dubowski was too enthralled by rat fleas to give us more than a reading assignment. Unlike my Physics teacher, though, she decided to make a big deal about the new student.

  “Please tell us about yourself, Mr. Bates.”

  “Yeah, tell us about yourself, Fuck-Face-Bates,” someone whispered from behind me. Poor Gary. Looked like the Larrys had already dubbed him with an unfortunate new nickname.

  Gary looked uncomfortable being put on the spot. He shrugged and shuffled back and forth. “Um, I’m Gary Bates. I’m originally from Connecticut, but don’t worry, I’m not a Yankees fan. I went to boarding school in Amherst for a while, but my family thought I needed some public school experience. That’s about it.”

  “Hi, Gary!” Twenty teenagers answered unenthusiastically.

  Once we’d survived the last lecture of the day, I took pity and decided to approach him. “So, boarding school, huh? I thought that was only for wizards and mutants nowadays.”

  Gary’s eyes widened more than I expected for such a lame joke. He tripped over his own feet and we had to endure some snickers as I helped him straighten himself again. I thought this level of awkward meet-cute only happened in rom-coms, and here I was enduring it in the west hallway. Gary blinked a few times, transfixed on the Captain America shield on my chest, before finally smacking his forehead and muttering, “Harry Potter, of course.”

  “Duh.” I trailed off as Gary looked rather righteously indignant.

  “You do realize real wizarding schools would be nothing like Hogwarts,” he said. “I mean, for one thing, there wouldn’t be any magical creatures. They would be far too rare and dangerous to keep around novices, and Dumbledore, well, he would be fired by the PTA for all the crap he pulled endangering students. Plus, it’s the twenty-first century and there are these things called iPads and . . . I sound like a crazy person, don’t I?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I once argued for two hours straight about which of the X-men would be able to take a pee if Thor set Mjolnir on the only working toilet in the X-Mansion.”

  We shuffled uncomfortably towards the parking lot. Several eyes lit up as Gary led me straight to a brand-new Audi in a lot full of older Japanese sedans. He chucked his backpack into a backseat stuffed to the brim with binders, books, and a bunch of little bags that smelled like they came from a head shop. “They didn’t let us out much at Amherst,” he finally said. “And I didn’t have any close friends really, just people who knew my folks were loaded.”

  “Well, I don’t care if your folks are loaded or not. I am, however, somewhat intrigued by your theories on Harry Potter, so if you ever want to talk some more, lunch is, you know, in the caf, and stuff.” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was rambling. Guess I wasn’t used to talking to anyone at school. People are confusing. “Anyway, I need to get going. Four tons of homework await and I have to help out at the Hall of Justice. Later.”

  I think he said something about offering me a ride, but I wasn’t giving up the last part of my weekday routine. The way from school to Route Twenty consisted of shady paths and a few boulders I could vault over if I got bored. Fall was fading fast, and it was only a matter of time before I’d be fighting the demon snow. Today, however, it was still perfectly pleasant in a hoodie and jeans. I’d even worked up a bit of sweat by the time I slipped into Justice Comics. I held my breath and counted to three as the bell announced my arrival.

  “Jessie girl!” I waited for it. Three . . . two. . .

  A bear of a guy in a Hawaiian shirt snatched me by the waist and twirled me before handing out his classic noogie chaser. It apparently never got old to remind me that I was the only member of my immediate family under six feet and two hundred pounds. “How you doin’?”

  As always, I slithered out of his bear hug and gave him a fist bump. “Doing fine, Uncle Jimmy. Got anything for me, or can I get cracking on my homework?” I already knew the answer. Mondays were typically dead until he opened the back room for the RPG crowd at seven. Usually nothing more exciting happened than him popping on Telemundo and occasionally shouting “Gooooooooooooal!” while I tried to fight through pre-calc.

  As it turned out, the universe had different plans for me this day. My favorite snack of a peanut butter and banana sandwich, coupled with whatever seltzer water flavor Uncle Jimmy had found on sale, awaited me by
the collectable figurines and overstocked graphic novels. However, just as I settled into a little Shakespeare, the front bell dinged again.

  Uncle Jimmy gave a booming “Hiya, welcome to the Hall of Justice,” telling me it wasn’t one of the regulars. My jaw dropped as I saw none other than my dream man, Tony Castorini, in the flesh and in my comic shop. What could he possibly be doing here . . . other than keeping me from finishing Henry V?

  I peeked at my reflection in a collectables case, adjusted my ponytail to make sure it was even, checked my teeth, and took a deep breath to psych myself up in the unlikely event—

  “Hey, Jess.”

  He noticed and spoke to me. I hadn’t formulated a response yet, so all I could do was stand in the corner, blinking. To make matters worse, he started walking towards me while Uncle Jimmy beamed. “Oh, is this one of your friends, Jess? Why don’t you help him out?”

  Oh God, this was my worst nightmare come true. Uncle Jimmy had no sense of subtlety. He was totally winking at me as Tony approached.

  I could only breathe in the intoxicating mix of his cologne mixed with good, old-fashioned sweat. So hot! Speaking of which, shouldn’t he have practice or. . . ?

  “I was wondering if you could help me out.”

  “Um, sure. Were you looking for a comic book?” I asked with a high-pitched chipmunk voice and an accidental giggle. God, I’m so pathetic!

  Rather than laugh, Tony did what I least expected and blushed. He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not exactly. Hey, can we maybe keep this on the down low?”

  “I would . . . I would never!” Suddenly finding my big girl voice again I continued, “I mean, it’s not like I’m a priest or a bartender, but the Flores family believes in the sacred confidence of your local comic shop. It would be like asking me to post spoilers about a new release before Wednesday.” Yeah, I was rambling.

  It was Tony’s turn to blink. “Never thought of it that way. That’s . . . actually kinda cool, Jess. So, um, you’re into cartoons, right?”

  “Cartoons?”

  He looked over his shoulder again, as if expecting the coolness police to burst in at any moment. “I meant like Japanese cartoons and stuff.”

  “Anime?” I asked, slightly incredulously. Tony’s face lit up, his smile totally making my head swirl.

  He gave a little shrug. “Yeah, that. I want to learn something a little different. I have a . . . friend, and I don’t want to look like a total, um, what’s that word?”

  “Noob?” I offered.

  He nodded and gave me an energetic right-on-the-nose finger point that turned the remainder of my spine into jelly. “I tried sneaking some Adult Swim while the old man was out for poker, but I got lost. Can you like tell me where to begin?”

  “It’s a pretty wide spectrum. Are you looking for silly, ultraviolent, or make you cry ugly tears?”

  “I have no idea. I just need something, um . . . accessible, maybe?”

  Anime has been called many things, but accessible wasn’t the first word I’d use. Even so. “You know what? Try Cowboy Bebop.”

  “Is it any good?”

  “Never bet against a show with a super-intelligent corgi, trust me. It’s on Adult Swim, but less shouty, or if you want to read it . . . I think we have the manga, um, the graphic novel version.” It occurred to me that this was the single longest conversation I’d had with Tony, and I’d used the words “super-intelligent corgi” unironically. I could think of very few ways where this could possibly get any worse, so I darted over to our international corner and grabbed the books for him before I could say anything else stupid.

  He flipped through the first few pages and his eyes lit up. “Yeah, this’ll work. I’ll take them. Thanks so much!”

  “Well if you want any more recommendations, you know where to find me, and trust me, mum’s the word!”

  “You are awesome.” My heart leaped out of my chest while I walked him over to Uncle Jimmy to check out. “I’m totally gonna impress her now.”

  And with that my heart plummeted. Tony was willing to learn about geek culture to impress some other chick, and I’d been his enabler. Way to stab yourself in the back, Jessie. To my credit, I kept my best fake smile on my face until he headed out the door.

  “So, he’s cute and he likes Cowboy Bebop. Did you ever think—?”

  “Nope, not once. Um, I have a lot of homework that I need to get back to.” I slunk back to my corner. My week was starting out with a night worthy of chocolate ice cream and maudlin K-drama, and I had serious doubts it was going to get any better.

  Sadly, whatever higher power I’d offended wasn’t done with me yet. It was game night at the shop, meaning Uncle Jimmy was staying open late. That left me to walk home after dark—usually not a problem as Northborough, Massachusetts wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime.

  Tonight was no different . . . at least until I reached the hill leading to my duplex. All at once, a twig snapped and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  Don’t stop. It’s probably just a stray cat. Leaves crunched and I slipped my hands into my pocket as subtly as I could. If some jerk was looking for an easy mark, I had a nasty surprise waiting on my keychain. I kept one foot moving in front of the other, my eyes on the shadows and my heart racing all the while.

  And . . . nothing happened.

  I was just about to laugh at myself for being silly when a hand snapped over my mouth. Oh crap. Instinct took over and I drove an elbow back into something softer than I’d guess a mugger to be. My heel slammed down on a foot, allowing me to break free so I could draw my keychain out. “Eat pepper—”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I lurched to a sitting position, my heart thundering and my cheeks flushed. I bolted from my bed and ended up falling to the floor as my feet got caught in the sheets. “Oof!” Nothing more terrifying than the dust rhinos under my box spring awaited me from this angle. What had happened? Here I was, tucked in my bed, in my PJs, with my laptop streaming Coffee Prince, yet my heart wouldn’t stop racing a mile a minute.

  “What the heck?” I stepped to the window, but there were no muggers, crop circles, or anything else strange in my yard—only a dead patch where our jerkface neighbors had decided to spray enough herbicide to wipe out Nebraska in a single setting. Am I losing my mind?

  Then I noticed something—a bruise on my neck, barely visible in the reflection cast from the window. Something had happened to me, but I had no idea what. I made my way downstairs and found the door locked, the windows shut, and everything in order.

  Dismissing the weirdness as nothing more than a stress dream brought on by a broken heart, I tried to get back to sleep. I obviously needed it.

  Just as I was closing my eyes, however, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up again. Though I was safely in my bed, for the briefest of moments I could once again feel that hand over my mouth and pressure against the side of my neck.

  “Not so rough, you idiot. She’s the chosen one!”

  What the? I curled up under my blankie, covering my head, overwhelmed with the sudden childish desire to hide from monsters. If I was gonna crack up, at least I would be cozy.

  Chapter Two: The New Guy

  “Wait . . . what?” The words came out of my mouth as it occurred to me that I was totally not paying attention. Somehow my lunchtime routine had completely upended itself over the last few days and Gary was now a regular at the wonky table. Although two thirds of our conversations consisted of nothing more salacious than who played the best Joker, our routine caused some of the bored masses to whisper in our general direction. Rather than let them win, I merely smiled. After all, it was a perfectly viable distraction from Tony Castorini, who I’d managed to not think about for a record seventeen minutes.

  “I said, I got stuck with the quarterback with the physics-defying hair as a lab partner.”

  I reset my mental counter. Wow, Tony was smart enough to take on double sciences. W
ait, that meant Gary was a STEM junkie too, which was cool, but back to Tony. . .

  I rolled the image of him in a lab coat around in my mind. He could totally pull off a Tony Stark look in a few years. Mmm, goatee. . .

  “My socks are on fire.”

  “That’s nice.” I plastered on my best bland smile and rolled my eyes for extra aggravation. Gary let out a deep sigh. My work here was done. Sure, I had no idea what had transpired, but all was well.

  “I can’t help but notice every time I so much as mention that Tony guy you zone out. Could it be that you possibly have feelings for this meathead?”

  “Tony is not a meathead.”

  “Ah, so that you pay attention to. He spends the better part of the week getting trampled by large, sweaty dudes on a football field. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

  “He’s also in four AP classes, on the Academic Decathlon team, and he played Biff in Death of a Salesman last year. I did the lighting, by the way, and can attest that even in stage makeup, his olive complexion glows.”

  Now it was Gary’s turn to roll his eyes. “Stalker much?”

  I sat up a little straighter, a blush creeping onto my cheeks. “Despite what my flannel shirt and bootcut jeans might suggest, I am a red-blooded, heterosexual teenage girl, and I will not be ashamed of my natural feelings for a perfectly attractive, eligible and, hopefully single, male.”

  Gary rubbed the hints of scruff on his chin. “And have you made your perfectly natural feelings known to said hopefully single male?”

  I began tactically studying my main course of thermos Ramen while Gary ate his yogurt with a distinct aura of smugness. Apparently my face said it all.