Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1) (11 page)

“That's from Star Wars isn't it?”

“I didn't know my grandson was into the
classics.”

He wasn't, not as much as Charlotte, but she
rubbed off on him a lot.

“Well anyway, you're right. Jared didn't
understand that he couldn't just split off his mind in that many
directions and hope he could stay out of the looney bin. He was
trying to study for all his subjects at the same time.”

“Something happened,” Michael said. He
explained about the gold flash of light.

“Ah, right,” Grandpa said. “That was another
of the city's Actives. She can transport herself anywhere she's
been before in the blink of an eye. She got Mr. Groebels out of
there before Jared could really hurt him.”

Michael shook his head. Mr. Groebels had been
under siege by fifty of one kid who had made himself nuts by
copying himself too many times. Another kid had sprouted lightning
from his body. This wasn't happening. You didn't wake up and say
'hmm, I wonder if someone's going to fly right through my office
building today' or 'wouldn't it be totally out of control if this
kid cloned himself over a hundred times and ripped apart his
teachers?'

“What is going on?” Michael groaned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean everything's nuts. Completely
crazy.”

“I thought you'd say something like that.
Listen kiddo, I wanted to have this chat with you, because others
might think they can get in on the action. And everybody knows that
you get your ability in a time of stress. Everybody knows you get
something that you need, something that will help you at that point
in time. They'll want their own power so they can levitate cars and
shoot lasers at people they don't like. But I need you to promise
me you're not going to try anything dumb, okay?”

Michael thought about it. Sure it would be
cool, to fly or jump into a spiked pit or teleport wherever you
wanted, but a lot of people had killed themselves trying to go
Active, after Marcus Patterson. Thousands in the first few
months.

“You told me that last time. Mr. Springfield
said the same thing.”

“Well we meant it. There ain't nothing wrong
with being a normal kid, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

“That's a good boy. Now, here's your reader
thing. Your mother tells me school's going to be closed tomorrow,
so you've got yourself a nice three day weekend. How's that
sound?”

It sounded like the start of time flowing
back to normal. October was half over by the time Jared went
multiple and mental, and the rest of it slunk out without any other
mention of Jared McClaren or Trent. Halloween passed as usual. He
went out as Harry Potter and nobody really understood, but he
hadn't expected them to. Charlotte showed up looking like a thrift
store had thrown up on her. She explained that she was going as a
hippie. It didn't do much to explain the red-tinted sunglasses,
flowery and flowing dress on top of the bell bottoms, or the rings
and bangles, but Michael didn't mind. She looked great.

But when November showed its red, gold, and
pink face, the worst and most unimaginable thing happened to
Michael.

He lost his only friend.

One day she was telling him about how the
twins were making trouble at home, and then that she'd started to
get into the work of a guy named John Legend, and the next she
didn't show up to school at all. She couldn't have been sick.

She didn't show up the next day. Or the
next.

Then one day during first hour, which was
social studies again, Jared McClaren came in before the bell rang.
Silence took over the classroom at his heels. Everybody stared at
him, but he only looked around, passed Michael, tripped over a
desk, muttered something about a bathroom, and headed out again. He
was lucky Wozniak hadn't gotten to the classroom, he thought.

Somebody told the old man just as soon as
he'd walked in the class, though.

Mr. Wozniak's eyes widened. “What, where?
Where exactly did he go? What did he do?”

Lindsay Schwartz cocked her head. “He must
have been drunk or something. He was tripping all over the place.
He went over there and...” She appeared to realize that she was
pointing right at Michael, and hastily pulled her hand back.

“And?” Mr. Wozniak asked.

“He just went to the bathroom.”

Mr. Wozniak was on the phone before she
finished her sentence. The school was on lockdown in a matter of
minutes. Even though his grandfather had told him about it, Michael
was still surprised when someone came over the intercom to say it
was a code yellow, and for everyone to remain in their classrooms.
A golden flash erupted just outside the door, and the face of a
young woman appeared in the window. Mr. Wozniak held up his hands
in a big X shape.
He's not here.

The search lasted through the bell time, and
all of them were twenty minutes late for second period. Michael
didn't mind. But what he did have trouble with was why Jared had
come in, tripped on his shoelaces right in front of Michael, and
then disappeared without a trace. Michael didn't bother with where
the carrot-headed kid was. He was probably on the run out to New
Mexico or something. Anywhere but the prison they'd put him in.

He thought it was weird until he opened his
bag to get out his math books and found a piece of paper stuffed
inside.

“What the...” he said.

Open me after school, it said.

He did. It was a long and confusing day.
Charlotte didn't show up again, but Jared did. Michael’s worry
about Charlotte was tinted with questions about Jared’s situation.
Was he locked up someplace? Could he just put his hand out of the
bars and make a new copy to go out and deliver the message? And
once he started wondering what was in the message, he couldn't get
that out of his head either.

Maybe Jared was in contact with Trent. Maybe
Jared knew about what Michael had done to Trent, and thought
Michael could help. Maybe Jared didn't have any friends and wanted
someone to talk to. However he'd gotten out, he should have just
run away. Far away.

Michael tried to get through the day,
imagining what Jared would do to keep himself company if he ran
away. Playing chess against yourself had to be a pretty dull way to
pass the time. He could play video games, but he would always
win.

When the day finally ended, Michael didn't
think he'd learned a single thing. He had a million questions for
Jared McClaren and wherever they'd put him. He tore out of school,
went to the bike rack, and realized he hadn't been bringing his
bike to school for ages. It was another example of how strange
everything had gotten.

He tore the note out of his bag and checked
to see nobody was around. He didn't know why, maybe it was all the
extra security at the school, but this was a secret note and he
didn't want anybody reading over his shoulder.

“What...” he asked. The end of the note was
signed Charlotte.

Hi Michael,

I'm really sorry I couldn't come 2 school the
last 3 days. Actually I can't come anymore. Anyway don't worry
about me. Just spin one of the old CDs I was telling you about. You
should play track 6 on the Janis Joplin album. Or if you want, song
#2 by Blur is another you would probably like. Or maybe 4
Non-Blondes. Maybe not.

My mom says keep your nose clean. And the
twins are their normal boring selves.

Take care, and here's a hug for you,

-Charlotte

“Weird,” he said to no one, as he finished
the letter.

He tried to figure out just what she was
talking about in the letter. She hadn't explained much of anything.
All she'd done is not exactly be herself. Sure she was weird, but
she'd never written him an e-mail or a letter with the word 'to'
written in a number instead. Plus, the twins were never their
'boring' selves. It was like they'd lived through another adventure
every day Charlotte talked about them.

Maybe it was a code. Michael's heart was
suddenly racing. There didn't seem to be enough of a note for much
of a code, but still. She was probably trying to tell him
something. The numbers had to be the key.

If he put the 2, 3, 6, 2 and 4
together...

“Not long enough to be a phone number,” he
said. She could have made up an e-mail address, but she didn't put
down any sort of site name. He puzzled over it on his paper route,
thinking out loud while enjoying the brisk November weather. He
hadn't realized just how miserable he'd been without any Charlotte
in his life. There wasn't enough radical shifting in music with the
regular kids, not that they talked to him, but he could still hear
their music playing from their mini boomboxes. It was the same
broken factory being blown to smithereens with someone shouting, or
the softcore rap some of them were into. He wanted to hear about
the music that had changed history, and see the clothes people wore
way back when. He wanted something out of left field every few
weeks. Mostly he just wanted to watch Charlotte be very animated,
like the way her eyes slid halfway down whenever she put on a
really groovy record, and she wiggled her shoulders back and forth.
Sometimes she'd snap her fingers.

That was the best.

Everybody else at school had no idea what
real was. They only listened to the new music because that's what
they saw on TV, that's what got advertised all over the internet.
Charlotte was more solid than the rest of them, pulsing with life.
Everybody else was willing to give up on a bullied fifth grader.
They were afraid of a sixth grader who'd beaten up the bad guy. Not
Charlotte. She wasn't afraid of anything.

He thought maybe the numbers were a zip code,
but he looked it up as soon as he got home, and discovered that it
was the code for Ramona California. Even if she was there, it would
have taken her like an hour by suborbital shuttle. And if, by some
reason she'd given the note to Jared and he was there, he would
have had to drive for like four days just to get to town. Ramona
California was a bust.

Grandpa was waiting for him when he finished
his route, with a tall glass of IBC in one hand and a beer in the
other.

“Guess which one's for you,” he said.

“Umm...” he said.

“You're right, I couldn't just give you a
beer. Wouldn't be responsible of me. How you doing kiddo? Got some
time to chew the fat with your old grandfather? How was
school?”

Michael had never been a super quick kid. He
was smart, sure, books and all, well-read too, but he hadn't won
any battles of wits, ever.

Still, when Grandpa looked at him like he
did, it set off a warning bell in his head. His grandfather did not
look at him with that eager twinkle in his eye. He also did not
meet Michael at the door to his house. These were special
circumstances.

“It was alright,” he said. “Where's mom?”

“Off shopping. She sent me over to see you
didn't set anything on fire. She told me the school called her to
tell her that Jared was in today, which she thought was pretty
strange.”

“Yeah, he was in and out.” Michael grinned,
remembering the look on Mr. Wozniak's face. “You should have seen
Mr. Wozniak.” He knew right away this was the wrong thing to
say.

“Mr. Wozniak might have been in danger.”

Michael's face fell. “Yeah I know.” Grandpa
was the last person in the world he wanted disappointed with him.
“He was fine. Jared didn't come back.”

“And nothing else happened?”

“No...it was just school as usual.” Except it
wasn't. There were some numbers he needed to piece together. He
hadn't learned anything all day, and he had some homework he didn't
really understand that needed doing.

“Well, let's crack them books kiddo. Finish
up homework by the time your mom gets back and I'll talk to her
about ordering a pizza.”

“Alright,” Michael said, with an inward whoop
of excitement. He was going to do his homework anyway. Bonus pizza?
Letter from Charlotte? It was the best day of the week so far.

He still had the feeling, over bonus pizza,
that Grandpa was trying to get something out of him. It was almost
like Grandpa knew about the letter from Charlotte and just wanted
Michael to admit it so he could take a look. But then he told
himself it was just his imagination, and that he just felt guilty
for holding something back from Grandpa.

The little thought popped back up into his
head. Yeah, it said, but your grandfather is holding things back
from you too.

Not that Grandpa owed him explanations for
everything he did.

“Shut up, gah,” he muttered.

“Something wrong Michael?” his mother
asked.

“No,” he said, and shook his head. “I'm going
to head to bed.”

“This early?” She looked really worried about
him, which worried him.

“I can read in bed,” he said.

“Well okay...say goodnight to your
grandfather.”

He dreamed about numbers that night. He
dreamed he was flying above the continental US, and that little
flashes of numbers zapped to bright yellow here or there, where the
numbers were rearranged. But that couldn't be right. If he had to
mix up those numbers, there were thousands of possible
combinations. As the thought came, it seemed like half the US
flashed gold.

No, that wasn't it.

He tossed and turned all night, woke up
feeling more tired than when he went to bed, and headed out late
enough that he had to ride his bike. He didn't even have time to
pack a lunch.

It was a crisp November morning, and his bike
crunched through the early morning frost. The sun was being lazy
today, just a silver disk low in the overcast sky. The wind
pummeled at him.

School wasn't much better. It seemed extra
dark today, for some reason. Michael didn't feel like he could get
through a whole day like this, no Charlotte, just having something
from her but not knowing what it meant.