Dad pushed his plate away. “I think we're talking about anarchy.”
Okay. Whatever the hell that means? “What does it mean?”
Mom answered, “Essentially, Caleb, if you do away with all Nulls, then who would protect us from the paranormals?”
Ah. All the paranormal criminals would have no reason to worry, no end result. They could run around, doing all kinds of immoral shit and there would be no one to stop them.
Sounded like John's idea. “That's sorta big. I mean, he can't kill all the Nulls!”
Dad stared at me. “Actually, maybe there's a huge group of these—killers. After all, there isn't an inordinate amount of Nulls. Maybe the police should be looking into missing children's cases, nationwide. Possibly, the disappearances and murders aren't a local trend.”
Wow, just wow.
“We couldn't be figuring this out on our own, Kyle. They have people working on all this constantly. Experts.”
“That's why I think that we may have a new idea. They are constantly chewing on this. Perhaps, with different people working together toward a common goal, but with different methodology, it hasn't been put together yet.”
“Never underestimate zealotry,” Mom said.
“Exactly my point. That's why when my research gets all bound up, I have a new pair of scientific eyes look at it. That fresh set can sometimes see things I don't. Maybe that's happened here.”
“They're looking for horses,” Mom said.
“And it's zebras,” I said.
Dad smiled at my insight. “Right.” He pointed his finger at me, and then did the thumbs up.
Maybe it was a gang of weirdos together. Trying to exterminate the Nulls, and let the paranormals become a threat.
“Okay, so they kill all Nulls. Paranormals are causing trouble. So what? What purpose does that serve?”
“Well, Caleb, who do you think would have to take care of the problem then? Do you think they would be discriminate about who was taken out of the equation or not?”
The government. They would extinguish a threat—a national threat.
I'm sure it was written all over my face that I realized a terrible new future where half the teens in the USA would be taken in the name of safety. Most of which would be innocent of any wrongdoing.
Mom paled. “How could the government get away with it? There are too many people who would never stand for the sanctioned murder of our children simply because they were paranormal. My God, it's like the holocaust, Kyle.”
His gaze stayed on hers in silent understanding. “Yes. Diabolically clever, really.”
“They'd never get away with it Dad,” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe they wouldn't, ʻget away with itʼ,” Dad made airquotes, “but it would cause troubling questions to be raised, and a negative spotlight to be cast on the paranormals. Even if that bright light was not warranted.”
We sat in silence. I picked up my fork and Onyx head-bumped my hand. He was begging for a morsel. I covertly slipped a small hunk of meat under the table as Mom was dishing up her bird portions.
Mom changed the subject, “I hear John's birthday is coming up.”
“Yes,” Dad clapped his hands together. “The big one-five.”
I looked at Dad. He was so lame sometimes.
“What?” He shrugged.
“Honey, I don't think Caleb is thinking it's an important birthday.”
She looked at me expectantly.
I nodded. “Yeah, what do I get out of mine? Big deal. No voting, no driving, no emancipation.”
The Parents headsʼ whipped up from their plates. “Gotcha,” I said, pointing a fork at them.
“Nice, son. I thought you liked living here,” Dad said, mock angry.
“I do. Just like jerking your chains.”
“Humph,” Mom said, unimpressed.
“What are you boys doing for John's birthday?” Dad asked.
“Definitely a combo-fest,” I said.
“Oh right. I forgot, Jonesy's is the next day,” Mom said.
I nodded. Actually, “Ah, that reminds me, I was going to ask.” I shifted in my seat, feeling awkward. Which, of course, made the Parents stare more. “Jade's birthday is at the end of the month and I was going to get her something but—”
“You're not sure what?” Mom asked.
I sighed in relief. Geez. I was kinda stressed about what to get.
“Hmm, that's interesting that there's a gaggle of your friends that have these early fall birthdays.” Dad smiled, he'd thought of something that amused him.
Wonderful.
“So, that makes Jade an ʻolder womanʼ.” Dad laughed at his cleverness.
Mom didn't. “Don't joke, Kyle, it's important to get just the right gift. She's an important part of Caleb's life, and we want to get something that gives that the nod, but doesn't give her the idea they're getting married next week.”
I felt a little light-headed when Mom said the “M” word.
Dad looked at me in alarm. “Are you okay son, you look washed out.”
I put my head between my knees and said, my voice muffled, “Ah, I don't-it's not...” shit, “it's not that big of a deal. Can't I just get her a stuffed animal or something?”
“At fifteen, Son? Isn't that a trifle juvenile?” Dad asked.
I whipped my head up and it swam, the food undulating in my stomach in a slick lump. “I don't know! It's not like I've had a harem before Jade.”
“Okay, calm down, we'll think of something,” Mom said.
“I am calm, you're the one talking about weddings.”
We sat there together as the cuckoo clock chirped six times in the background, shattering the silence.
Dad suddenly grinned. “I like that she's older than you, Caleb.”
Mom scowled.
Whatever, Dad's sense of humor was totally warped sometimes. My birthday was in October, I didn't think that was that big of a difference, one month.
“Okay.” Mom made the slice the neck gesture with her index finger.
Dad raised his brows.
“One thing at a time. What is happening?”
“Well, Gramps said he'd have a party thing at his place next Friday.”
“You know, honey. Your dad—sometimes things get a little dicey at his house,” Dad said.
I was thinking of Hamilton showing up, and the posse that flipped us off from their car. Yeah, shit went down at Gramps, no doubt.
Mom put her hands on her hips. Wonderful, looked like A Point would be made soon. “Pops couldn't help that horrible man showing up and threatening you.”
Oh right, then there was that. “Maybe he could have not broke his thumb though, Mom,” I mentioned.
“He did?” Dad asked, making the crooked mouth.
I nodded. “Yeah, heard it in school.”
“He could have pressed charges,” Dad said, trying not to laugh.
I shook my head. “No,” I said through slurping the rest of my milk. “Too embarrassed.”
Dad nodded. “I can see that. It's not every day that a man twenty years your senior—”
“—hands you your ass,” I finished.
“Caleb Sebastian Hart!” Mom said.
Cripes on a Crutch. “Sorry, Mom, but Gramps—he's got it goinʼ on.”
She threw up her hands, totally in denial. “He was just defending his rights.”
Ah-huh.
Dad changed the subject, “How are your classes going?”
Translation: are you flunking anything?
“I'm passing, Dad.”
He grunted.
I thought of Smith showing up at the crime scene. I told them about that.
“Seems like his presence was terribly out of line,” Mom said.
Dad palmed his chin. “Let me know if there are any other details popping up with regard to Mr. Smith.”
“Okay.” I pushed my chair back and brought the empty plate to the sink.
“Use the...”
<
br /> “Mom! I got this.”
Dad laughed.
Life as Usual.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I was stuffing all my crap in my locker when Jonesy came up behind me, “Hey.”
I swung my head in his direction. “Hey.”
He shuffled around looking uncomfortable. “What?” I asked him from the ground. Jonesy was never uncomfortable, something was up.
“I don't know if my mom can come to the thing this weekend.”
That sucked ass, she was helping my mom with The Birthday Feast. Critically important: food.
Jonesy saw my expression. “I know dude, but she's barfing up a lung right now.”
Huh? “Why?”
I didn't think Jonesy could blush. “Remember, she's pregnant.”
Oh, right. “So? What does that have to do with the food?”
He shrugged. “I don't know, she says she can't even stand the smell of her own pee.”
“Goddamn, that's a total overshare, pal.”
“So shoot me, I'm so thrilled about it too,” he said, somewhere between pissed and mortified.
The rest of the gang showed up and he told me with his eyes to stay silent.
No way, too precious for words.
“Listen, John, do you think your mom can make some food and crap for the party at Gramps?”
John looked at Jonesy, who was being uncharacteristically silent. “I don't know, she is so her.”
“Andrea will make something,” Jade said helpfully, sensing (no Empath skills needed) there was something brewing with the Jonester.
Sophie lifted a shoulder. “My mom will pitch in too.”
I thought Jonesy would break down and french kiss her on the spot. He looked that grateful.
John's brows plucked together.
Bry and Tiff said, “Our mom can. Hell, she makes ten pounds of potatoes a day anyway.”
“Really?” Alex asked.
Bry nodded.
Holy shit, that was more food than I could wrap my head around. I started to get a dreamy look on my face and Jade elbowed me. “Snap out of it, stud.”
I smiled down at her, she just didn't understand the importance of feeding.
The guys looked damn serious; they understood the food program. Hence, Jonesy coming to me in advance, in order to outline the dilemma.
“I thought your mom was gonna help Caleb's?” Bry asked logically. His tone said, it's no problem that she can't, but let me know what to tell my mom.
All comedic quips absent, Jonesy opened his mouth and closed it again.
Like sharks sensing blood in the water, the kids closed in.
“What's going on, Jones?” Tiff asked.
“His mom's doing a puke-a-thon whenever a smell bugs her,” I said.
“Oh yeah, your dad knocked her up,” Bry said tactfully.
John looked at him. “Not helpful, dude.”
Bry shrugged. “What's the big thing? I mean, I've got four younger brothers. And a sister,” he tacked on before Tiff could ream him.
“Yeah, but are your parents still breeding in their forties?” Alex asked.
This was going so well, I hated to break up the, let's nail Jonesy fest, but, “Yeah, the food thing is going to be okay, the girls have manned up.”
Alex pushed up his glasses, and I thought we'd escaped extreme awkwardness when he blew us away with, “So, is it you visualizing your parents having sex that's the problem or maybe it's because the pregnancy proves its existence? The sex.”
This from the inflatable doll fan.
Jonesy's veins were standing out on his head. He looked, pissed, ill, or both. “I do not, for shit's sake, visualize jack about my parents!”
“I wasn't saying that you were. Just that it was a possibility.”
Bry interrupted, a grin spreading over his face. “You know, Sims, your social skills are really interesting.”
Alex smiled, affirmed for the next half year from the oldest male in the pack.
Nice.
Jonesy would've had a cool rebuttal for sure but the bottom feeders came by just then. Great timing, as usual. Must be done with their involuntary vacation from school, was my dismal thought. Things had been so righteous without their skulking asses lurking around.
“I guess you heard what happened,” Carson strolled up, his butt buddies tagging along behind him. “After your abusive grandpa man-handled my dad.”
Brett smiled, he loved the thought of Jade getting the idea that there were problems in my family too.
“Well, he didn't have the right to come over to his house and try to start something with my dad, Carson,” I pointed out.
“He escalated it,” John clarified.
“You think you're so smart,” Diego said, striding over to John and getting right up in his grill. Same height, big poundage difference.
Bry walked over to the two of them. “Knock it off, Diego. Don't be a tool.”
He turned to Bry. “Listen Weller, I'd shut the fuck up if I were you, after the way you treated Christi.”
Bry looked surprised. “I didn't treat her bad. She broke up with me. Her choice.”
Word traveled fast on the high school gossip highway.
Brody looked in Bry's direction. “She doesn't want to hang around weirdos. She's got taste, is what she's got.”
Sure.
Jade and Sophie were hanging back, uncertain of the outcome with an all-guy group.
Probably smart.
Jonesy wasn't unsure, he had rebounded from his earlier awkwardness. “She's the one that didn't fit. Did she tell ya about the IQ relative-to-sibling statistic.”
It was the quintessential moment: Brett, Carson (with Ceci), Brody, and Diego waiting to be Informed by the Jonester.
John actually groaned out loud.
“What are you saying?” Brody asked, fists clenched.
The first period bell shrilled but we ignored it.
“I told her that siblings only have a difference of fifteen IQ points.”
“So?” Diego said, like, WTF?
Jonesy smiled, prepared to drop his delicious bomb.
Well hell.
“I told her that since I knew you guys were as bright as yard tools, that put her--ya know—like dog IQ”
“Hey!” I said, insulted for Onyx.
Jonesy caught on quick. “Except Onyx,” he excepted hastily.
Alex slapped his forehead.
Bry sighed.
“You stupid shit, you got some kind of a death wish? Come on guys, let's see how he likes being a punching bag,” Brody said.
“Don't you touch him, you delinquent!” Sophie piped.
Wow, didn't she know the Rule? Do not engage a violent guy.
“Yeah!” Jade added.
Cripes!
Carson and Brett looked at her. “Stay out of it, Jade,” Brett said, his face pinched.
Brody walked over to the girls. “You bitches shut up.”
A red haze made a reappearance, momentarily blinding me. I forgot I was in school, I forgot where I was.
I forgot everything but getting to Brody.
I stalked over to him, never breaking stride and took the flat of my foot and drove it into the back of his knee, a new favorite move of mine, collapsing him where he stood.
He folded like a deck of cards. I was grabbed from behind and threw my head back into the skull that was inches behind mine, hearing a satisfying crunch. The arms that were on me, loosened their hold.
I turned around and crouched, assuming classic Judo defense position. They weren't going to catch me from behind again.
Jonesy waded into the fray, a huge ass grin riding his face. He moved directly to where John was, giving me a look to see if I was going down then he rushed Diego. Jonesy body surfed midair, tackling him and the two of them went down together with a crash, backpacks flying.
Jade and Sophie squealed.
Ceci yelped.
Carson and Brett plowed through the mele
e, eyes trained warily on Alex when they switched their attention to Bry. I guess they weren't such slow learners after all.
Brody was howling and clutching his nose (which was oozing blood between his fingers), my imminent demise filling his eyes.
Diego was trying to pound on Jonesy, but John rode him Bronco style, and Diego was desperate to shake John off like a worrisome gnat.
John clung, both hands buried in Diego's hair. (If he wasn't such a girl about it, there wouldn't be any hair to hang onto.)
Dave Smith, my weirdass AFTD teacher, moved into the circle of struggling kids.
Bry took a good one from Carson in the jaw even as he blasted a fist in about the same place on Brett, who stumbled back, losing his balance and falling on top of John, who was riding Diego, who was trying to beat the snot outta Jonesy.
Wonderful.
“Okay, what in the world? Boys!” Smith grabbed Brett off John and pushed John off Diego, and jerked Jonesy to his feet by the hood of his zippered sweatshirt.
He shook Diego and Brody like dogs with fleas. “Do I need to get a Null here boys?”
“I'm a Null,” John said from the ground.
“And you've been so helpful, obviously!” Smith said.
John blushed and became interested in his shoes.
“Are we in high school here? Because, I was thinking it was middle school again. Explain. In fact, explain on the way to the Principal's office.”
Everyone made groaning sounds.
“You deserve it for acting like five-year olds.”
He turned to Ceci, Jade and Sophie. “You girls get to class, I will get someone for you if there needs to be a story corroborated.”
They took off, and Jade gave me the sympathy look.
****
My mom was talking to the principal and was so unhappy.
“I recognize, Mrs. Hart, that there will be a scuffle or two, even with the upperclassman. But, you understand our policy—our zero-tolerance stance on violence here.”
Mom pinched the bridge of her nose, carefully avoiding looking at me. “Yes, I am aware, Ms. Chen.”
“Then you would understand why Caleb will get a warning only because of the event of last week, in which the same group of young men was involved in the attack on your son.”
“What will be done with them?” Mom asked, hand falling limply to her lap.
The Death Series, Books 1-3 (Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance): Death Whispers, Death Speaks, and Death Inception Page 52