by S. A. Beck
“Do you like the meditation? Do you like what she says?” Isadore asked.
“Yeah, I guess.” She didn’t want to share her thoughts with her foster mother. Jaxon could barely process them herself, so she certainly wasn’t going to talk about them with a stranger. She had made that mistake far too many times. Curious, she turned to her foster mother. “Why are you getting me so many tutors? I mean, I appreciate it and all, it just seems a bit much.”
“We care about your education. We want you to learn how to control your anger and channel it into more productive avenues. We think you have a great future.”
“As what?” Jaxon didn’t think about the future much. She’d never really considered that she had one that wasn’t more of the same. It wasn’t as if she would become an adult and suddenly magically fit in.
“Just focus on your lessons for now, and we’ll talk about that later. Oh, I had a talk with your new teacher, Mrs. Endersby, and she had a talk with the principal…”
Jaxon perked up. That didn’t sound good.
“And we’ve decided to enroll you in summer school.”
“What?”
“Now I know that doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, but Mrs. Endersby thinks it’s for the best. With all of your shuffling around between foster parents and group homes, you’ve missed a lot of classes. Your education has suffered.”
Jaxon groaned and looked out the window. She knew this new foster home was too good to be true. Stephen and Isadore wanted to work her like a slave.
Her foster mother continued. “Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your work and meet more people. It’s so late in the year that if you don’t go to summer school, you’d only be at this new school for a couple of weeks before summer vacation. This way you can get to know your classmates better.”
“Yeah. That sounds wonderful.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t befit someone of your intelligence. Don’t you want to make some friends?”
Jaxon didn’t reply. Isadore wasn’t going to listen to her anyway. Like all foster parents, she had an idea in her head of how she was going to mold her foster child in her own image. She thought that throwing money at the problem would make Jaxon fit in.
Yeah, right. Tell that to Courtney and her little flock of hangers-on.
Isadore dropped Jaxon off just before eight thirty so she could make it to homeroom. She smiled and gave Jaxon a hug that was stiff and awkward, as if Isadore wasn’t used to giving hugs. Jaxon’s reaction was the same. She wasn’t used to receiving hugs.
“I know it’s tough adapting to a new situation,” her foster mother said. “But you’re a strong girl to get this far, and I think you’ll turn out just fine. You have heaps of potential.” Isadore gave her another of her flat smiles.
Jaxon smiled in return. “See you this afternoon.”
As she walked into the school, Jaxon thought about her foster mother. Isadore was a bit cold, and it was strange that she’d volunteer to take care of a kid in the system. She wasn’t bad though, just a bit clueless. At least she was trying to help, unlike a lot of the “parents” she’d had to live with. But why did her idea of help have to include summer school?
Jaxon went to her locker and saw Courtney and some of her crew nearby. As luck would have it, Courtney’s locker was only a few numbers down from her own. Jaxon always hit the jackpot like that.
As she got her books, Jaxon glanced at Courtney out of the corner of her eye. The girl was talking in a hushed voice with a guy and two other girls. The guy passed over some money, which disappeared into Courtney’s purse. Courtney reached into her locker with exaggerated casualness and pulled her hand out, closed but seemingly holding nothing. Her and the boy’s hands briefly met. A moment later, the boy put his hand in his pocket.
Jaxon’s eyes widened. So Brett was telling the truth. Courtney really was selling drugs from her locker.
Courtney glanced over in Jaxon’s direction, and Jaxon acted as if she was flipping through her math book. Suddenly someone bumped Jaxon from behind, and the book fell out of her hands.
“Courtney says mind your own business if you know what’s good for you,” some girl whispered into her ear.
Jaxon looked at the stranger, her heart pounding. The girl glared at Jaxon and stalked off.
Great. I have enemies I haven’t even met.
At lunch, Jaxon sat alone as usual. The dining hall had typical long tables where everyone sat together. Jaxon figured it was to help with a sense of community and that “old school spirit.” It also made it twice as obvious when you were being excluded. The nearest person to Jaxon sat three seats away.
She wished she could zone out to some music, but her foster parents had taken her phone. So she just kept her head down and ate her lunch, which turned out to be undercooked pasta and bland tomato sauce with a tasteless roll. It seemed school food was bad even in rich schools. Maybe there was some Universal Law of Grossness that applied to school food. She’d have to ask her science teacher about that.
“Hey, is this seat taken?”
Jaxon looked up. Brett stood across from her, holding his tray and grinning. He sat down before she could answer.
“Don’t you have a golf game or something?” she asked.
Brett laughed. “No, that’s after class. We don’t have a golf course here at the school, although we should. We all drive over to a country club not far from here. Want to come and watch me play?”
“No, there’s some paint I want to watch dry.”
“That’s not nice,” Brett said with a smile.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t compare watching paint dry to watching golf. It’s unfair to paint.”
Brett laughed again. Jaxon was beginning to find his laughter annoying. Did he find everything funny, or did he just laugh as an automatic reaction?
“So why do you like golf so much?” Jaxon asked.
“I don’t, really. Sure, it’s a challenge, but it’s not as fun as basketball or football. Mostly I do it for the business connections.”
“Business connections?”
“Well, not yet, but my father says you have to play a good game of golf in order to fit in at the country club. When I inherit Dad’s company, I’ll need to be good on the golf course. That’s where the real deals get made, not in the boardroom.”
“Of course. How silly of me to ask.” Jaxon sighed, stirring her unappetizing pasta with her fork.
“So which country club do your parents belong to?” Brett asked.
“None.”
Brett looked appalled. “None? Are you sure?”
“No. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t care.”
Brett looked confused. Jaxon suspected that, just like with Courtney, that happened often.
“People are saying that the woman who drives you to school isn’t your mother, but it’s not the kind of car a chauffeur drives. Besides, you sit in front. I saw you come in today.”
Jaxon shook her head in wonder. Country clubs? Chauffeurs? Unbelievable.
“It’s complicated,” she said, trying to avoid the question.
“I like complicated women.”
Jaxon rolled her eyes.
Brett continued as if he didn’t notice. “So what are you doing this summer? I’m stuck in summer school. Grades, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m stuck in summer school too.”
Brett grinned again. “Hey! You know everyone is in the same classroom? We’ll have the whole summer together.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait.”
Jaxon hoped her sarcasm would put him off, but it didn’t. He seemed unstoppable.
“Oh, you’re not going to like this. Courtney will be in summer school too. She’s got even worse grades than me.”
“Fantastic,” Jaxon mumbled, finishing off her pasta with supreme effort.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Jaxon looked up in surprise then down again. “I did. We kinda broke up last week.”
“That’s too bad,” Brett said, not sounding as though he meant it. “What happened?”
“He… moved away.”
“Oh. So, um, what are you doing this weekend?”
Jaxon shrugged. What did she do most weekends? Hide in her room playing games and listening to music. Music and games were out, thanks to Isadore. She guessed her lessons would continue though. If she had to spend a whole summer with Courtney, she would need a lot of meditation.
“Dunno. Yoga and Aikido class. Not much else.”
“Aikido, huh?” Brett made some karate chops in the air. “Training to be a ninja? Why don’t I pick you up Saturday night, and you can show me some moves? Maybe I can show you some of my own.”
Jaxon looked at him, appalled. “Where do you get these lines?”
Brett laughed with a trace of nervousness this time. “Lines? They’re not lines.”
Jaxon fixed her gaze on him. “They’re lines, and they’re lame.”
Brett kept smiling. He really was unstoppable. “Come on. You’re new here. Let’s get to know one another. No strings attached. It’s not a date or anything.”
That last line told Jaxon it was totally a date. She was about to say no when something stopped her. Why should she say no? It wasn’t as if she would ever see Otto again. Brett couldn’t hold a candle to him, but at least he was friendly, which was more than she could say for the rest of the kids at this school. Sitting around in her room for yet another Saturday night didn’t sound appealing. She’d had a lifetime of weekend nights alone. Maybe they could go out and see a movie or something. She hadn’t seen a movie, or even TV, since she’d left the group home. Another of the Grants’ stupid rules.
“Well, okay. But it’s not a date,” she said at last.
Brett put one hand on his chest and the other in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
“I seriously doubt you were ever a Boy Scout.”
Brett laughed. “Of course not! My parents would never let me join. They said it’s a waste of time when I could be learning how to play polo.”
Jaxon rolled her eyes. Maybe another Saturday night alone wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“And there’s a condition,” she quickly added.
Brett cocked his head. Jaxon couldn’t help but notice he had pretty eyes. A nice shade of blue. Not as crystal bright as hers—nobody had eyes like hers—but nice enough. The rest of him wasn’t bad either.
“So what’s the condition?” Brett asked.
Jaxon realized she had forgotten to speak. “No more cheesy pickup lines.”
Brett laughed. “I keep telling you, they’re not lines.”
This time Jaxon laughed with him. “Whatever. Just stop with the cheesiness. And pick me up at eight. I have to ask my… parents’ permission, but I’m sure I’ll bring them around.” Jaxon added a silent I hope.
“Cool. What’s your number?”
“Oh… um… the battery was dead this morning, so my phone’s at home. Just write down your number and I’ll call you.”
As Brett tore a page from his notebook and wrote it down, Jaxon sat back in her chair and smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad new life after all.
Chapter 10
JUNE 6, 2016, MOJAVE DESERT, NEVADA
8:00 AM
“Don’t believe half of what Edward tells you, honey.”
Vivian and Otto were eating breakfast in the dining trailer. It had a small kitchen, a well-stocked pantry, and a rather cramped dining area. Vivian sat across from him at a table that was so small, their knees kept brushing against one another. She was wearing camo pants and a low-cut camo shirt that distracted Otto from his eggs Benedict. Otto, to his embarrassment, was still wearing his prison jumpsuit. Yuhle had yet to go drive to the nearest town to buy him some clothes.
“It all seemed pretty convincing,” Otto said.
Vivian nodded. “A lot of it is true, but Edward is so poorly socialized, he’s not really in touch with reality. He grabs whatever he thinks sounds good and adds it to his belief system. Of course, that’s how most people deal with the world, but Edward has a lot more material to work with.”
“So how do you tell what’s real and what isn’t?”
Vivian grinned. “We’re trying to figure that out. He’s a genius though, and we need him. We’d be fighting blind without him.”
Otto shook his head. “I don’t get it. Yuhle is some big scientist, Edward is a computer maestro, you and Grunt are kickass mercenaries… where do I fit in?”
Vivian pointed at him with her fork. “You’re the only person in the world who Jaxon trusts.”
Otto felt something tug at his heart. He missed Jaxon terribly. In prison, he’d felt a cold emptiness, as if she had died. Now that he had the possibility of seeing her again, no matter how remote, he was filled with an anxious need to see her face and hear her voice.
Otto had never had trouble getting girls. He knew he was good-looking, and unlike a lot of kids who ended up in the system, he actually had social skills. Girlfriends came easily. There was something special about Jaxon though. He had sensed it immediately. When she had revealed her powers to him, at first he thought he’d been sensing them, that somehow he had guessed she was more than human. But he’d had lots of time in his cell to think about it, and he realized her unique abilities weren’t what made her so interesting, before or even after he knew about them. Take away the super strength, the fast reactions, and that weird thing she could do with plants, and she was still special.
Sure, on the surface she was just another messed-up kid stuck in the system, another misfit with a bad attitude and no future. But under the surface was a hidden strength more impressive than the one she’d used to beat up half a dozen soldiers, or secret agents, or whatever they had been. Jaxon was depressed, withdrawn, and had trouble making friends, yet she somehow kept enduring. A life of being alone had made her rely on herself, and within the small little circle that made up her life, she was able to fight off all the rejection and hopelessness thrown at her and keep on going.
She was stronger on the inside than he was. He had good looks and an easy way with people, and he still screwed everything up. Grunt was right—he was a liability to the mission and to everyone around him. Most of all, he was a liability to himself. Jaxon had been through way more than he had, and she never lashed out. You’d never catch her setting fire to the neighbors’ barn. As much as she’d suffered, she’d never taken it out on anyone.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Vivian said.
“We have to save her,” Otto replied, looking her in the eye.
“We will, honey.”
“But how?”
“Edward has already located where she is. We got lucky. Normally the files for the Poseidon Project aren’t accessible. General Meade—he’s the man in charge—is paranoid. He won’t even put the files on top-secret computer networks. He knows anything can be hacked if you have a good enough hacker. Edward thinks most of the files are in a single office on computers with no Internet access. If anything needs to be shared, an agent delivers an encoded memory stick that self-wipes if anyone tries to download information off it. So we only know as much about the Poseidon Project as Yuhle was able to learn while he worked there, plus a few other things we’ve pieced together.”
“So how do we know where they sent Jaxon?” Otto asked.
“Your girlfriend is part of the California childcare system, so we have the address of her new foster family. Reading through those files set off a warning light in Edward’s head. She was transferred way too fast, and her social worker was replaced. It looks suspicious. Yuhle thinks she’s been sent to live with some of General Meade’s agents.”
Otto stood, bumping the table. “We have to get her out of there!”
“Easy there, hero. It’s not that simple. First off, these are dangerous people, just as dangerous as Grunt and me. We could get hurt, or even worse, Jaxon could get caught in the crossfire. She’s too important of an as
set for them to let her go. If they saw they were going to lose her, they’d put a bullet in her brain without thinking twice.”
Otto stood rooted to the spot. His entire body felt cold. “They’d do that?”
“Just as soon as spit.”
Otto sat down. “So what do we do?”
“Bide our time. Scout out the situation. Get you trained up. We also have to be sure of our own security. Yuhle dropped out of sight after leaving the Poseidon Project, so we know that General Meade and his goons are looking for him to find out what he’s up to. We seem to be safe here, but appearances can be deceiving. Grunt’s checking on some things, Yuhle’s checking on some things, and once we know for sure we’re safe, then we can start thinking about saving Jaxon.”
“I can’t just sit here doing nothing!”
“You won’t be doing nothing, honey. You’re going to be learning how to fight back,” Vivian said.
“Let’s get started.”
A few minutes later, Vivian and Otto stood in an open area behind the cluster of buildings. The chain-link fence with its spools of barbed wire on top enclosed far more space than was actually needed, and now Otto realized they used the back lot as a firing range. Shell casings lay scattered on the ground, glinting in the desert sun, and farther out, the ground was pockmarked with small, blackened craters.
“How are you at baseball?” Vivian asked.
“Pretty good. I never got to be on a team or anything. The system has moved me around too much.”
“Our first lesson is showing you how to use those flash and smoke bombs you saw at the breakout.”
Otto grinned. “Those were cool.”
“They’re also illegal and expensive, so we’re going to start with a dud.”
Vivian pulled a small metal sphere from her purse. Sticking out of the top was a metal bar that curved around the side like the bent handle of a fork. Otto noticed a small pin with a loop on the end fixed in place on the top of the bomb. It looked like a miniature version of the grenades he’d seen in war movies.
“Okay, listen up because all of this is important,” Vivian said. “See this white dot painted on the bottom? That means it’s a dud used for training purposes. There’s no explosive inside. It’s just a metal sphere. For the moment, you only get to touch the white ones. Live flash grenades have a yellow dot. Tear gas grenades have a black dot. Incendiary grenades have a red dot.”