He yelped and a bunch of people in the hall turned to stare.
“Sorry!” I said. “You, um . . . there was a bug. Okay, see you later, bye!”
I dashed into my first period class, my hand stinging and my mind whirling. Normally, first period AP European History was my favorite class, but that day, I didn’t even take notes. I spent most of the time wondering why I’d been able to slap Brandon and not David. If I was Paladin for the Grove, I shouldn’t have been able to hit any of its students.
I wrote in my notebook, “B said offensive thing, so could be hit as he is jerk.”
That made sense. But then I wrote, “D also said offensive thing—called me bitch. But could not hit.”
Then under that, “But you were a bitch to D, so deserved it, so D not jerk, so could not hit.”
Hmmm . . .
Clearly, I needed a test subject, someone totally innocent. If I couldn’t hit him or her, then I was right, and it was my job to protect the Grove. If I could . . . ugh, I did not want to think about that.
I glanced around until my eyes landed on Liz Walker. She was sitting one desk over and up from me. I had several classes with her, but we weren’t exactly friends. She ran with a group some of us called “the churchy people.” Other, less nice, people called them “the Jesus freaks.” Basically, if I were looking for one of the nicest people at the Grove, Liz was it.
So that’s why I did feel bad when I fished a pen out of my bag and chucked it at her, figuring that if I were Paladin of the Grove, it would stop about an inch from all that shiny blonde hair.
It didn’t.
I flinched as the pen smacked Liz right in the back of her head. She gave a startled cry and whirled around, hand on her head, eyes full of not-so-churchy anger.
“Harper?”
My teacher, Mrs. Ford, was looking at me with total confusion. “Harper,” she said again, “did you just . . . did you just throw a pen at Liz?”
Now the whole class was looking at me. I turned on my best smile and said, “Oh, my gosh, no, Mrs. Ford! I was just . . . um . . . writing really fast because there was so much information to take in, and I had, like, some lotion? On my hands? Anyway, the pen flew out of my hand and hit Liz.” I turned to Liz. “Really sorry about that. Total accident.”
“It’s okay,” Liz said, but she was scowling and rubbing the back of her head.
Mrs. Ford was watching me like I had just sprouted a second head, but she eventually shrugged and said, “Well, be more careful.”
“Will do!” I chirped. Then I turned back to my notebook, my heart pounding and my mouth dry. Holy crap.
I had a noble cause, all right. But it wasn’t Grove Academy.
It was David Stark.
Chapter 7
I spent the next three classes pretty out of it. For the first time in history, I took absolutely no notes. I just sat and stared and thought.
Mr. Hall had been protecting David. Dr. DuPont had been trying to kill David. I now had to protect David. Other people would probably try to kill him. But why? I mean, yes, David Stark was annoying, but that didn’t make him worth killing. And if Mr. Hall had been protecting him, had he chosen to? Because I sure as heck hadn’t chosen this. What would happen if I just . . . didn’t? Or could I pass the powers on to someone else?
By the time the bells rang for lunch, one thing was abundantly clear to me:
I needed my mentor-person right now. I had figured out as much as I possibly could, so it was time for my Giles or my Professor X or whoever to get here and start explaining.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and started heading to lunch when it occurred to me that it wasn’t like my Giles/Professor X could just come sashaying into the cafeteria amidst a hundred teenagers. No, I’d have to be on my own.
The problem was—where? The Grove was so small that there were very few places without students lurking. I stood on the steps of Wallace Hall, looking down at the courtyard, which was already filling up. Any minute now, Ryan, Bee, and Brandon would be here. I looked over to Nash, the building that housed the cafeteria and the fine arts classrooms—and the only building on campus that even I had to admit was ugly, all short and squat—and saw Bee coming out the door, a Styrofoam box in her hand. Amanda, Abigail, and Mary Beth were all surrounding her, and she was looking over her shoulder and laughing at someone behind her. Brandon, probably, which meant Ryan wasn’t far behind.For a second, I thought about going over to meet them. I even started down the steps. But when I got to the bottom, instead of heading across the courtyard, I found myself turning left and heading for the chapel that was in the very back corner of campus. Of course! The chapel was only used for assemblies, so it was deserted most of the time. Plus, the back of it faced the woods. If ever there were a perfect place to wait for superhero instructions, that was it.
The chapel was actually really pretty, and it was a shame that we didn’t use it very often. It was built out of pale gray stone, and there were stained glass windows running down each side. As I walked around toward the back, I decided that at the next SGA meeting, I would definitely bring up ways we could use it more. Maybe something at Christmas. Provided I would still be on SGA. What if my Professor X person said I had to quit all my extracurricular stuff? Or what if I had to leave school altogether? If I had powers, would I have to go to some other school for kids who had them, too? Were there any other kids who—
I came to a sudden stop as I reached the back of the chapel. There, sitting on the steps where I’d planned on waiting for my mentor-person, was David Stark.
“Ugh, no!” I cried without really thinking. I’m pretty sure I even stamped my foot.
David’s blue eyes widened. “Harper?” he mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, pushing my shoulders back.
He swallowed and stood up, dusting his hands on his pants. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but before he could, he suddenly winced, pressing his fingers against his temple.
I immediately took a step forward. “What’s wrong?”
David blinked a couple of times, fingers moving against his forehead. “Headache. I’ve had one for like a week now. Probably spending too much time in front of the computer.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tiny packet of aspirin. As he tore it open with his teeth, he glanced over at me. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Lunchroom was too loud. So what are you doing out here, Pres? Why aren’t you eating lunch with your court?”
Darn it, why hadn’t I thought up a reason to be out here in case I bumped into anyone?
But then the perfect excuse came to me. I looked down and scraped the dirt with my boot heel. “I just couldn’t deal with all the questions about that article you wrote. I was embarrassed.”
David watched me for a long moment and I studied him right back. I wanted to see something, anything, that would make David Stark look like someone who needed to be protected by supernatural bodyguards, but he seemed to be a normal high school boy, albeit one with truly terrible fashion sense. Today he was wearing worn-out corduroys with a bright green T-shirt and a too-small navy blazer.
Who are you? I thought. What the heck is so important about David Freaking Stark?
He laughed, startling me. I was so used to David scowling that it was kind of weird to see so many of his teeth. “God, you’re the worst liar I have ever seen,” he said. “First the whole stage fright thing, now this ‘I was embarrassed’ act . . .”
“I was embarrassed!” I shouted back, but he just kept on laughing. I picked up a small rock and tossed it at him, but it came to a skidding stop six inches from him, and dropped back to the ground. Luckily, David was so caught up in laughing at me that he didn’t notice. I’d known it wasn’t actually going to hit him, but still, it felt good just to throw something. Then I remembered my Professor Giles X could be watching me right now, and probably wouldn’t approve of me slinging rocks at the guy I was clearly supposed to protect.
“I just don’t see why the eff that’s so funny,” I muttered, just in case that person was listening. At least they’d know I’d had just cause.
David’s laughter trailed off and he looked at me with genuine curiosity. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I tucked an errant strand of hair back into my headband.
“Say ‘eff’ or ‘G. D.’ Why not say the actual words?”
I heaved a sigh and glanced toward the woods. If my Professor Giles X was out there, there was no chance he was coming now. So much for alone time.
I turned back to David. “I just don’t think it’s . . . necessary to use those words in polite company when there are so many perfectly good euphemisms.”
David stared at me. “Dear God, what planet are you from?”
I threw up my hands. “Forget it, okay? I wouldn’t expect you to understand anyway. Just like you don’t understand why the Grove is important to me, or why I might not want my personal issues blasted all over your stupid newspaper, or why I might have wanted to eat lunch by myself for once.”
Oh, God, I was doing it again, that shouty, kind of scary thing I seemed to do whenever I had to talk to David for more than five minutes. I needed to go. This idea had obviously been a bust, and there was still plenty of lunch left to hang out with Ryan.
Speaking of whom . . . I pulled my phone out of my bag and saw that, sure enough, Ryan had sent me a text message five minutes earlier. “Where R U?” Then another one from 3 minutes ago. “R U OK?”
“I gotta go,” I said, but David caught my arm before I got very far.
This close, I could see the faint blond stubble on his chin, and when he opened his mouth, I noticed the tiniest chip in his front tooth. “Harper, look, I just want to say . . . earlier today, that whole thing with . . . what I called you, and—”
“No problem,” I said waving my hand, my eyes still on my cell phone as it started blaring “Sexy Back,” Ryan’s ringtone (he had picked it himself). I didn’t really want to answer it when I’d be seeing him in just a few minutes. Plus I didn’t want to lie to him in front of David, giving him even more ammo against me. I could just hear him. “Why did you lie to your boyfriend about where you were? Why are you really out here? Did you by any chance murder Dr. DuPont?”