Sophomore Freak (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 2)

SOPHOMORE FREAK

Book Two in the Reject High Series

Brian Thompson

Copyright © 2014 by Brian L. Thompson

Great Nation Publishing, LLC

3828 Salem Road #56

Covington, GA 30016

www.greatnationpublishing.com

E-mail: [email protected]
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead – are purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the editor.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To: My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for the continual flow of ideas and the ability to do what I love.

To Heather, my wife, business partner, and sounding board. Thank you.

To my parents, Bradley and Barbara, for their continuing support and love.

To all those who contributed toward this work: my editing group and friends Jackie Rodriguez, Jeff Hipps, and Martha Brown of the East Metro Atlanta Christian Writers; my beta reading team Bethany Allmon, Laura Almond, Tamiko Bowman, Tiandria Cotton, Becca Cronk, Maureen Henn, Gina Johnston, Anna Oliver, Lisa Sinnock, Valerie Strawmier, Adrienne Thompson, DeAnna Troupe and Brittany Watkins – thank you for your input and feedback.

To my editor on this project, Mary Marvella; my friends and mentors Charles Clark, Tia McCollors, Tyora Moody, Kemya Scott and Cyrus Webb – thank you. Special thanks to Phyllis Conway, Matt Criswell, Debra Harley, Margaret Harley, the Lowe family, Christine Mayfield, Jeff and Diane Ransom, and Susan Scherffel for inspiring me.

To my pastor, Bishop Eddie L. Long for spiritual guidance and support.

Watch for
Forgotten,
the third book in the
Reject High
series,
coming in summer, 2015.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

(in alphabetical order)

Joyce Anderson:
Sasha’s mother.

Sasha Anderson:
Jason’s girlfriend; can clone herself.

Debra Brown:
Jason’s legal guardian,
Zachary’s mother and Ray’s ex-wife.

Ryan Cain:
former student at Reject High; Jason broke his jaw.

Amauri Camuto:
member of the Collective.

Jason Ray Champion, Sr.:
Jason, Jr’s and Zachary’s father, goes by “Ray.”

Jason Ray Champion, Jr.:
former Reject High student. He is strong, invulnerable, and can jump immeasurable distances.

Vivienne Coker:
head of Positive Growth troubled youth boot camp.

Ernesto Hernandez:
The youngest Hernandez triplet; Positive Growth camper.

Julio Hernandez:
The oldest Hernandez triplet, works for David King.

Luis Hernandez:
The middle Hernandez triplet, works for David King.

Solomon Hughes:
member of the Collective.

Belinda King:
school board chairman and David’s sister.

David King:
member of the Collective.

Deidra Lee:
Jason’s aunt; older sister of Anna.

Susan Lin:
Jason’s therapist.

George Lowe:
Rhapsody’s father, dying of bone cancer.

Rhapsody Lowe:
Jason’s best friend; can turn invisible and quantum tunnel or “ghost” her body through solid objects.

Ruby Martinez:
Rhapsody’s mother.

Julia Mosri-Champion:
Ray’s wife.

Jeff Peters:
former Earth Science teacher at Reject High.

Michael Selby:
Sasha’s ex-boyfriend; can move at tremendous speeds.

Stuart Spivey:
former Student Resource Officer at Reject High.

Eris Courtney Stafford:
member of the Collective.

Ron Welker:
ex-principal of Reject High; member of the Collective.

CHAPTER ONE

therapy gone wild

A warm, salty August breeze blew on my face. I blinked hard, my heart racing. On the floor to my left lay a huge chunk of splintered wood. Next to it were jagged metal hinge pieces alongside tiny glass fragments. I was near the ocean, somewhere on the west side of town in my therapist’s office, or what was left of it.

I blacked out, a rage blackout – got angry and did a terrible amount of damage. Bile rose in my stomach. My throat was already dry, but suddenly it was tough to breathe. Susan, my psychologist for the past three years, was
gone.
I might have finally done it, lost control and killed someone I cared about.

Turning my hands over I examined them. I didn’t see blood, but that didn’t mean anything.

All the news stations would carry the story or would splash my shame for all to see.
Fifteen-year-old black teenager Jason Champion murdered psychologist Susan Lin.
The police would try to arrest me. I’d resist, and they would discover the secret I’d been keeping for the past three months.

Air drifted in from the beachfront window, drying the cold sweat on my back. I inhaled and held my breath to quell the nausea. Under normal circumstances, the wall-length glass didn’t open. My gaze drifted over to what remained of it. In the distance a floating rectangle with a gold knob floated on the waves. I’d tossed a door a quarter of a mile away into the ocean. Was she out there with it?

“Susan?” I called out. I prayed she was alive. “You’re okay, right? It’s safe.”

She didn’t answer back.

I scrambled over to the windowpane, cupped my hands around my mouth, and shouted her name again. Was she drowning in the surf? Could she swim?

Susan wasn’t in the storage closet, the mini-kitchen or dusty attic. Through the bathroom’s window, I checked the parking lot. Her navy blue Shogun motorcycle was still there. Had she survived? Run out on foot? Called the cops?

I swallowed hard. I had to get out of here, but not before finding out the truth.

Little vivid details remained in my mind, like crumbs left over from something larger and more important. Susan had pushed me into talking about my dead mother and flipped my switch.

Then her slender white finger, the one with the tattooed ring on it, had pointed to the “danger room.” (It‘s an enclosed area to protect her from those clients who go mental and need to let it out.) I‘d raged in it before. Going inside would have worked two months ago, before I became invincible and ridiculously strong.

Maybe she was hiding. I hadn‘t checked her husband‘s office. It was locked, so I waited, listening for movement. Hearing nothing, I squeezed the doorknob flat and walked inside.

Susan shook violently at the sight of me. “S-stay back,” she said, her aqua blue eyes widened. She held a cell phone in one hand and extended a taser with the other.

I surrendered with open palms, although nothing she, the police, or anyone else could do would harm me. “I can fix this. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

“Y-you...don’t come any closer,” she said, waving. Her curly brown hair bobbed back and forth. “The police are on the line.”

Susan’s tone sounded like she might bargain with me if I did what she said.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll explain. Just hang up.”

She laid her cell phone face up on the desk. “Emergency Number” was on its display, along with a red light. She ended the call. “Ten seconds before I redial.”

No pressure.

Thinking quickly, I pulled down my black Raiders t-shirt with care, exposing my necklace – the source of my powers. The green prism sparkled in the track lighting. I had no idea how she would react. Blood rushed to my ears and my heart continued to beat double time. Either she believed me or thought I was nuts.

“This radioactive emerald gives me super strength,” I said.

To demonstrate, I lifted the desk with one hand and set it back down. Made of hand-carved cherry wood, it had to weigh a couple hundred pounds or more.

She triggered the taser. The electrified projectiles flew toward my chest and bounced off, dropping to the carpet.

I forgot to mention that part.
“Yeah, I’m invincible, too.”

Susan dropped down into the black padded desk chair and cursed.

“We’re not completely sure how they work.” I put my hands into my pockets. “Rhapsody found them in Reject High before it exploded. She has one.”

“We?
You two had something to do with that?”

I nodded, pausing before outing the others. “All of us did." I shrugged. “Sasha and Selby, too. Our principal and science teacher went psycho. . .it’s a long story.”

Susan massaged her temples. She must have a stress headache, like the one forming behind my eyes. “You winged my door into the ocean, like a Frisbee.”

How do you apologize for that type of destruction?
“I’ll pay for it somehow.”

She sighed. “We shouldn’t ever meet without backup. Andy insists that I carry a taser. But it didn’t even work on you. I couldn’t have even called a 10-13 without help.”

The code “10-13” meant committing me to the seventh floor of North Hospital, the “mixed nut” aisle, as I like to call it.
I
’
ll escape to a foreign country before I’ll go there.

My heart dropped. “I mean, yeah, I broke some stuff, but I’m not a killer.”

She hesitated and slowly exhaled. Was she actually thinking about whether or not that was true? “I know, Jason, but when you lose control and become...
this...”
Her voice trailed off.

This? What does that mean? Superhuman or crazy?
I rubbed the back of my throbbing head. “You don’t sound like it.”

As I moved a little closer Susan backed up and bumped into the ceiling-to-floor bookcase hard enough for her to act like it hurt.

Palms still facing outwards, I asked her again. “So, you’re okay, right?”

She kept hesitating. Were my questions that hard to answer?

“I’m fine,” she finally spat out. “I’m not counseling you anymore, that’s for sure.”

For the first time, I noticed she had pulled up the window and blinds and kicked out the screen. The air currents flowing through it cooled some of the moisture beading up on my forehead. “Alright,” I said. “But you shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not even your husband. We have enemies.”

The doorbell chimed twice. Thank God. My stepmom was early for once. Technically, Debra hadn’t been my step-anything since my father divorced her nine months ago, but it was easier to call her that than something else.

I backed against the beige wall and leaned against the doorpost.

Susan’s shoulders dropped and she relaxed her stance more the farther I moved away.

With nothing else to lose, I confessed to my therapist. “I just want to be...
normal.”

Susan moved behind the desk. “We talked about this. The goal for you was psychological health, not a murky definition of normal.”

Normal? Healthy? What’s that even like?
A tear escaped from my left eye though I tried stopping it. “You know everything now. Who’s gonna help me if you don’t?”

Susan’s eyes watered. She wanted to do something, but I scared her. “As long as you’re wearing that...thing...’normal’ isn’t an option for you.”

She had a point. Taking it off would mean I couldn’t protect myself or anyone else. “I can’t do that,” I admitted. “Not yet.”

I heard a gasp and a deep sigh behind me. Debra must have sensed Susan’s discomfort. On her neatly-curled black hair she wore a navy blue headband that matched the color of her postal uniform pants. The shine on her dark complexion must mean the air conditioner in my aunt’s van had leaked too much Freon again.

We exchanged glances for a second. From the look on her face and the way her lips twisted, I figured Debra knew the story. “What happened?” she asked.

I looked down at the taser projectiles in the dark blue carpet. “I chucked her door into the ocean,” I mumbled.

“My God,” she said. Debra, who was a little taller than I am, walked past me into the office. “Dr. Lin, are you alright?”

Susan shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Ms. Brown. From a professional standpoint, I shouldn’t have counseled Jason alone. That’s on me.”

Still sweating, I noticed my heartbeat had evened out. “She knows,” I said.

Debra had looked relaxed up until that point. She buried her hand in her pocketbook for a check and flushed with embarrassment. I’d done property damage and other little things before, but she had never had to clean up something quite this big.

“It’s not your fault my son is a superhuman,” she said.

Feeling pretty crummy as they talked about me, I excused myself to Susan’s office. After checking the area for bystanders, I stepped through the broken window and leaped down into the sand. The door hadn’t gone far, so I kicked off my athletic shoes and socks and walked into the surf up to my knees, wetting the bottom of my shorts.

Under normal circumstances, a beach visit would have been a peaceful trip. Sasha, my girlfriend, might have thought it was romantic and enjoyed it, too. Since Reject High exploded and her friend, Asia, died, she had needed a lot of cheering up.

I returned to the building with the door and propped it against the wall. By the time I came back, the color had returned to Susan’s face.