Reject High (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 1) (10 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

I learn how not to play chess

Rhapsody and I wanted to cut fifth period Earth Science since our instructor had almost killed us. We decided against it when we noticed Peters had a substitute. The woman found her search for formal dresses more interesting than us and what we did.

Seeing that, Selby, Rhapsody and I holed up in a corner and compared notes about our abilities.

“Anything touching me, I can make disappear,” she said, her eyes dipping down. “It goes about seven feet out. Can’t do that intangibility thing. At all.”

Good thing it worked earlier that morning and for me last week. They already knew about my strength firsthand. “I’m invulnerable,” I said to them. “Except my clothes get messed up unless they’re against my skin.

“That’s why the knife bent,” Selby said.

“It’s also why you cut my favorite Raiders shirt and not my spleen,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“Sorry,” he said half-heartedly.

Rhapsody butted in. “Dude, you have like nine hundred Raiders shirts.”

“Whatever.” I flicked my hand at her.

“Well, I’ve got speed,” Selby said. “Tested it out a little during first period.”

Both Rhapsody and I looked at one another. “You ‘tested it out’, as in broad daylight? Where people could see you?” she asked.

It’s worse than what I thought. He’s an idiot.

“Chill. I wandered out behind the school. I started off slowly and ran as fast as I could,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“So my powers kick in and I’m doing doughnuts in the grass so fast. . .did you see the dust?”  He showed us the soles of his shoes, which had only a thin layer of rubber left on them. It explained why he reeked of sweat, dirt and burnt rubber.
“Crazy.”

I ignored him. “If Peters is gathering information on us, then we should do the same to him,” I told them.

“I’ll search his house,” Selby said, raising his hand like we were his teachers. “I can get it done faster than the two of you ever could.”

Rhapsody looked at me and waited for me to say something. Wait, how did I become the leader in this thing again?

“Alright,” I said. “I’ve got a plan. . .”

Before sixth period, I followed Welker around the school “putting out fires.” He told students to pull their pants up or asked teachers for emergency lesson plans.

By the time he slowed down enough to sit down with me in his office, P.E. had already started. If I had to miss it completely, I’d be willing to make that sacrifice. We had been playing baseball, and there was a guy even more into sports than Selby, who treats our intramural game like the Homerun Derby.  

“Have a seat, Jason.” He rounded his desk and sat in his chair. “What’s on your mind?”

“Who is that?” I asked, pointing at the Shakespeare bust.

“Nietzsche. . . Fredrich Nietzsche
. Will to Power
, the
übermensch
. . .are you familiar?”

He sounded
way
too excited about that possibility. “No,” I said, shaking my head, unsure of where to start regarding my homicidal science teacher. “I’m fifteen.”

He tilted his head to the side. “What motivates you, Mr. Champion?
Why
do you attend school? To pass a test? Why? Good grades? Do you want a good paying job? Or, do you just do what you’re told to do?”

I folded my hands on my lap. “Not that last one.”

“Good,” he said, a grin on his weathered face. “Don’t blindly follow anyone. Will to power – it’s what
drives
you. Discover that, and you’re ahead of most adults.”

I finally broached the subject. “I think Mr. Peters has a gun on campus.”

Welker didn’t flinch or even appear surprised, but after all, he was a former military man. “That’s a serious accusation, young man. Do you have any proof? Mr. Peters has a sub today. He’s not even here.”

I reached into my pocket and placed the bullets on the edge of his desk. “He fired these at me, Rhapsody, and Selby in the dungeon this morning.”

He picked up one of them and held it close up to his eyes. “I see. And how exactly did he miss?”

I shrugged. “Bad aim, I guess. Look, can’t you call in someone to check his hands for gun powder? He wasn’t wearing gloves, so shouldn’t he have some residue on them, or something? Won’t the bullets match the gun? He might have registered it.”

“You watch too much TV. Besides, we’re hardly policemen, you and I,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s leave that to them. I’ll call him in – don’t worry, when you’re not here – and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Trusting teachers is impossible for me. Besides, he’s
way
too calm about this. That’s when I noticed the chess set had three more pieces on the Union side: the general, queen, and the bishop. The Confederate king and queen spaces were still empty.

Welker caught me looking at it. “Do you play?”

I shrugged again. “I’m ADHD.”

He cleared his desk of papers and pressed the intercom button on his office phone. “Hold all of my calls until further notice.”

That didn’t sound good. “I should get to P.E.” I rose out of my seat. “We’re playing baseball today, and I’m sure they’ll miss me. . .”

“Sit, Jason,” he said, placing the board on his desk. “I can excuse you, if necessary.”

Up close, I could see the set had impressive detail. There were no “queens” – only smaller-looking male pieces. The Union king, who was on the side closest to me, looked like President Lincoln, so I guessed his queen was General Grant? Weird. My bishops were some guys in blue uniforms with red sashes and holding books. The knights rode horses. The rooks were cannons in front of American flags, and the pawns were drummers. 

“What do you know about
chess
, Mr. Champion?”

“I know what the pieces are, and what they do. My uncle tried to teach me, but I kept overturning the board.”

“Why?” he asked, propping his chin on one hand.

I gritted my teeth. “Because I was a little kid, and he got off on beating me in it.”

“You ever think he was trying to teach you something?”

Where was he going with this? “Like
how to lose?”

“Strategy
, Mr. Champion.” Welker moved the pawn in front of where his king should be two spaces forward. “This requires you to think and plan moves ahead of your opponent’s. Plan your winning endgame before he has time to think about his. Most men seek a victory. The great ones chase
immortality
.”

Immortality? On a board game?
It’s not that serious, but I played along, moving the pawn in front of General Grant two spaces. “This isn’t my game.”

“Isn’t it?” He moved another pawn two spaces, the one in front of his absent queen. “You fight. Battle with your mind instead of your fists and challenge me.”

Squashing the urge to turn the board over, I moved the pawn in front of my left bishop, who I’d pop out to the left corner of the board on my next move. “Why are we playing without a king and queen? You’re better than I am, and you’ll win since I have no one to capture.”

“Good point.” He made a backwards “L” move with the knight near his right hand. “Why do
you
think we’re playing?”

He was starting to sound like Rhapsody or my psychologist Susan, who never answered a question. “You’re bored?”

Welker laughed as I moved my bishop. “It’s never boring here at Reject High.”

Adults called this place “Reject High” too? It didn’t seem possible that they acknowledged the place for what it was – a dumping ground for kids nobody wanted. “What am I supposed to learn?”

“Chess, marionettes, puppets, the theater of war – these things are synonyms for a larger motif, a bigger picture, if you will.”

I didn’t know the definition of at least three words in that sentence he just said.

“I’ll give you five more moves to figure it out. If you can’t by then, I’ll send you to P.E.”

Man, I sweated it out, but I still didn’t see why he asked me to play a game with him. Instead of frustrating me, like my uncle did, it
challenged
me. I
had
to figure it out, now. Two of our pawns met in the center of the board and couldn’t move any further because of the others. 

Five total moves later, I was on my way to the baseball fields, still clueless about what Welker aimed to teach me with a game I barely understood. Whatever I did confused him, because he scratched the side of his head, and said “Hmm” more than once.

Now, it was up to Rhapsody to carry out her part of my plan. Asia and the other mean girls would miss picking on her today, but they’d pick on someone else, instead.

On the way outside, I saw a shadow in the distance. Sasha saw me and lingered at her locker until I approached her. She smiled. “Hey, Baby. Locker’s stuck.”

“Having trouble?” She wore a blue and white, knee-length sundress. The neck was a V-shape. Her appearance wound me up enough to yank the locker open without crushing the lock or pulling it off the hinges. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she said with a purr. Everything she did was like flirting. “I owe you one.”

“I’ve got P.E.,” I grumbled awkwardly. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” she said, easing up to my ear, “but not in the hallway.”

I backed up, hoping to cool down. “No, I just have a question.”

“You’re no fun.” She pouted. “What’s up?”

I scratched behind my head, and my neck was still hot from her hint. “If you’re playing a game of chess, and somebody is trying to teach you something about it, what could it be?”

“Chess?” Her face scrunched. “I don’t play it. Sorry.”

“Thanks, anyway.” I ran outside before Sasha did anything else to me. 

Down on the fields, all of the sports fanatics were hitting baseballs all over the place. I grabbed a bat and stood at the end of the line. The kid swinging wasn’t missing many balls, and if he kept this up, none of us at the back of the line would see action – which is exactly how I wanted it. We watched him launch one moon shot after another, until he pulled a muscle in his arm. After that, the guys in front of me gave up after a couple missed swings.