Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Keep In Touch!
Acknowledgments
More From Lyssa Chiavari
The Kraken Collective
About the Author
JMJ
CHEERLEADERS FROM PLANET X
Copyright © 2017 by Lyssa Chiavari.
Cover and interior design by Key of Heart Designs.
Published by The Kraken Collective. k12
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, trademarks, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.
For my sisters: by chance and by choice
I looked up from my phone at the sound of wheels on asphalt. Not car wheels. Smaller, like the wheels on a skateboard. But they were moving fast, way faster than a skateboard should. Hella fast.
A second later, she came into view. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, but nope. She was really there. A cheerleader on a skateboard. She glided with the momentum of someone careening down a steep hill—something we didn’t exactly have a shortage of here in the outer peninsula—her strawberry-blond ponytail streaming defiantly out behind her, as if she were daring the universe to make her regret going that fast without a safety helmet.
And if the sight of a cheerleader on a skateboard in her uniform hadn’t been one of the weirdest things I’d seen in my nineteen years, what she did next clinched it. When she got to the bottom of the hill—right at the part of the street where I always got nervous because there was no guardrail and the road curved around a drop-off to the valley a few hundred feet below—she did a trick. Like one of those ones you see the guys in the skate park do, where they flip their boards up and do a spin? Only she wasn’t in a skate park. She was on the freaking street, just inches away from a gorge that I was sure had to have claimed numerous lives in vehicular accidents.
I nearly had a heart attack just watching her, but the cheerleader was unfazed. She landed neatly on her board and kept right on going, the grin on her face wide, speeding along down the road like it was no big thing. My eyes followed her as she disappeared around the corner.
When I finally found my voice again, I turned to my uncle Tonio, who was sitting next to me on the bench outside the train station. “Did you see that?”
He looked up from his own phone. The sun glinted off the top of his bald scalp—with his shaved head and earring, I always thought my uncle looked like a Filipino version of Mr. Clean. “See what?” he asked.
“That girl on the skateboard!” I rolled my eyes at his blank expression. “Come on,” I groaned. “Blond girl? Cheerleader? She did, like, a 360-fakie ollie or whatever the hell they call them.”
Tonio chuckled. “I wish I’d seen that. Did her skirt go up?”
There was a crunching sound in my ears. I realized after a moment that it was the sound of me grinding my teeth. My family had a way of doing that to me. Especially my uncle Tonio. He was my mom’s youngest brother, who lived at my parents’ ranch along with them, my grandma, and (occasionally, now that I was in college) me. And he was only ten years older than me—old enough that he’d always seemed like a grown-up to me, but young enough that he still acted like a kid.
“I didn’t see,” I said, my face hot. He gave me a look that clearly said, “I don’t believe you.” I glared and added, “She had on those little shorts they wear underneath. And you’re gross.”
Tonio laughed, his voice echoing across the street and over the gorge. “You’re the gross one, looking at high school girls.”
“She wasn’t a high school girl,” I said defensively. “Her uniform said Swordsmen on it. That’s Bayview’s mascot.” Bayview University was the rival of my own college, St. Francis. Their campus was in City West. I wasn’t much into sports, but it was hard to exist on campus without hearing about the rivalry between the Mariners and the Swordsmen.
“Bayview?” Tonio said, screwing up his face. “The hell’s she doing out here in Everett?”
I shrugged. “Maybe she has family here or something. I think their spring break is the same time as ours.”
Tonio looked dubious. I knew what he was thinking—no self-respecting Everett kid would go to Bayview. But he was prejudiced, being a St. Francis alum himself.
I shrugged and stood up. “I should probably get going, anyway,” I said. “My train should be coming in any time. Thanks for the ride.”
He nodded and stood up, handing me my overnight bag. “I’m glad you were able to come home for a little bit,” he said, sounding sheepish. He wasn’t usually one to get sappy, but he always got like this whenever I headed back to school, even though I was only an hour away from home. “See you next month for Easter?”
I laughed, leaning over to hug him. “Of course.”
I was still grinning as I entered the station, swiping my Peninsula Rapid Transit pass through the reader on the turnstile. It was Thursday—I still had four days left of spring break, so I technically didn’t need to head back just yet. But I still had to write a paper for my English class and come up with a presentation for Public Speaking, one of the horrible G.E.s that St. Francis made us take our freshman year. And the chances of getting any work done at home were slim to none.
Especially this week. My cousin Carmen had gotten married on Saturday, and the reception had been at my parents’ house. Tons of family members had flown in for it—never underestimate the size of a Filipino family—and half of them seemed to be planning on staying for the indefinite future. There wasn’t a quiet corner to be had in the whole house.
And then there was the baggage that weddings always seemed to bring out. It had started at the reception on Saturday night. My grandma had said, in a voice loud enough that our neighbors two miles down probably heard it, “Now the only one left is Laura.” (That’s me.) “When are you going to find a husband, Leelee?” (That’s also me—don’t ask.)
I’d frozen in the middle of a bite of puto. Then I glared at her. My lola had lived with us long enough to know better than to ask a question like that.
Fortunately, my mom came to my rescue. “Now, Mama,” she said, “you know Laura doesn’t date men—”
“Fine, then,” Lola interrupted, undaunted. “When is she going to find a wife? I want some grandchildren!”
I choked down the sweet lump of rice cake in my mouth. “Lola, I am your grandchild! And before you even start, you already have three great-grandkids.” I pointed violently in the direction of my cousin Nina and her husband, accidentally smacking Tonio across the chest in the process. “What more do you want? Besides, I’m not even the last one. What about him? He’s almost thirty!” I jabbed my finger into Tonio’s chest again.
“Damn, woman, watch where you point that thing,” he complained, rubbing his sternum.
“We’re not talking about Tons,” my grandma replied. (Seriously, just don’t ask.)
“That’s not fair!” I protested. “Why should he get off the hook because he’s a guy? What is this, the Middle Ages?”
Lola merely narrowed her eyes at me. That was enough to make me sit down and shut up. That woman was like a demon lord in a tiny body. She was less than five-feet tall, but I swear, she would have left those giant pro-wrestlers she was always watching on TV quaking in their boots.
And that had been it. The whole rest of the week—what was supposed to be my spring vacation, I might add—had been spent trying to deflect the “When are you going to get married?” demands from my entire extended family. No one seemed to care about the fact that I was only nineteen, or that I’d only been out of high school for less than a year.
“This is all your fault,” I’d said to my dad last night, flopping into the overstuffed armchair in his office. “You married into this.”
Dad just looked up from his computer—he’d been working on something that involved way too many spreadsheets; you’d be surprised how much math ranching involves—and laughed, running a fair hand through his honey-brown hair. I knew what he was thinking. He was an only child, and both of his parents had been only children as well. He liked my mom’s crazy enormous family, and how different they were from his own.
Well, honestly, I did too. But not when they were being pains in the ass like they were this week. Which is why I’d decided to go back to campus early. Well, that and the fact that my stomach couldn’t take much more fried food. My mom and grandma had been making lumpia every day “since we have company.” Never mind the fact that the company seemed intent on becoming permanent house guests.
I’d almost forgotten about the girl on the skateboard by the time my train pulled into the station. I was alone on the platform apart from a middle-aged couple; not too many commuters were heading into the City on a Thursday afternoon. I settled into a seat near the back of the train, a front-facing one since I always got motion sickness if I faced rear. The couple from the platform boarded the same car as me, and they sat closer than I would have liked, considering that the car was empty. I hoped they didn’t want to socialize. Train conversations were always awkward enough, but I was still burned out from five days with my relatives. I slipped in my earbuds quickly and looked resolutely out the window, hoping to ward off any attempts at chitchat. It would be a good hour and a half to my final stop in City East, since I had to make a transfer partway through. Theoretically, it would be quicker by car, but traffic going in and out of the City was always terrible, no matter what time of day it was, and there was never any parking, anyway. Growing up on the peninsula, I’d gotten used to going everywhere by train.
It was actually pretty quiet until we got about five minutes away from my transfer. I was zoning out, my face rested against the glass of the window as I stared down at my phone, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I glanced up. An oncoming train leaving the San Luis station headed back out toward Everett was approaching on the other track. I almost looked down again, but then a flash of light from the other train made me freeze. It looked like lightning, except there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Oh, and, of course, it was red.
I kept my eyes riveted on the train, sure I must have been seeing things. But as the two trains drew closer to each other, I realized that I most definitely hadn’t imagined it. Something was happening on that train—though I couldn’t quite say what.
There was a figure on the roof. I didn’t understand how there could be, considering how fast the trains were moving, but there he was, black trenchcoat flapping in the wind like a character from the freaking Matrix or something.
And then, in a flurry of movement, another figure darted up from the side of the train farthest from mine. She landed in a red blur on the roof in front of Mr. Trenchcoat. Her strawberry-blond ponytail whipped around her head frantically in the powerful wind.
It couldn’t be.
The skateboarding cheerleader.
I only saw her for a split second as my train tore past hers. I gasped and jumped to my feet, pressing my hands against the window and craning my neck to try to see more. She rushed at the guy, and it looked like she was going to punch him, but then another figure obscured my view. I blinked in surprise and found another freaking cheerleader in front of me, clinging to the side of the other train right alongside my window. I couldn’t even tell what she was holding on to; she was just stuck there like a damn lizard or something. She looked at me for just a second, her pale green eyes seeming to register in a lightning-fast instant that I had seen her. Then she was gone, ripped from my view by the movement of the trains.
I whirled around, yanking my earbuds out of my ears in a frenzied motion. The middle-aged couple stared at me like I was bonkers. “Are you okay?” the taller man asked.
“Did you see that?” I croaked.
“See what?” the shorter man said. I could barely see the movement of his mouth behind his bushy mustache.
“The cheerleaders! On the roof of the other train!” Even as I said it, I realized how crazy I sounded. And there I’d been, the one trying to avoid weirdos on the train.
“I didn’t see anything.” The mustachioed man chuckled nervously, scooting closer to his partner while simultaneously trying to make it look like he wasn’t.
Their reaction was like a splash of cold water. I ran a hand through my hair in an attempt to calm my erratically-beating heart and managed an awkward grin. “Sorry,” I said. “I think I must have been dozing. I talk in my sleep sometimes.”
I didn’t talk in my sleep—to my knowledge, anyway—and I definitely hadn’t been dozing, either. But the couple seemed reassured by my words. They laughed easily, relaxing visibly. I laughed along with them, sinking back into my seat and putting my earbuds back in. The other train was long out of sight now, and the blinking L.E.D. sign at the front of the car indicated that we’d be pulling in to the San Luis station, where I needed to make my transfer, in two minutes. I could take care of everything then. These random strangers might not believe me, but PeRT security would be another story.
Or so I thought.
Seeing the security guard’s face as I told him my story, I realized that maybe going to the cops wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. He looked like he thought I was even crazier than the couple on the train had.
“Cheerleaders,” he repeated. “On the roof of a moving train.”
“And a guy in a trenchcoat,” I added.
“Right. Of course. And what were they doing there, exactly?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “How should I know? Pulling a prank, probably.” Or getting into a gang fight, I thought, remembering the way the blond girl had charged Mr. Trenchcoat. “They were moving too fast for me to ask their motives. But shouldn’t you let the train operator know? I don’t think PeRT will be too happy if someone dies or something, falling off the roof of one of their trains.”
He looked at me hard for a minute, and I thought he was going to dismiss me. But then he nodded. “All right. I’m going to get one of my supervisors. Wait here, please, Miss—?”
“Clark,” I said. “Laura Clark. Thanks.” I flashed him my most appreciative smile. “I won’t move a muscle.”
I stood back against the heavily-graffitied concrete wall and watched the officer until he disappeared through a door on the other side of the crowded station. A clock above the door showed that there were fifteen minutes until my train was due. I hoped security was quick enough that I wouldn’t miss it.
“I don’t know where the hell they could be,” a girl’s voice near me snapped, jarring me out of my thoughts. I glanced absently in her direction and did a double-take. It wasn’t just that she was gorgeous, which I would have had to be blind to miss. It was what she was wearing.
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A Bayview University cheer uniform.
She wasn’t the only one, either. A group of six other girls stood alongside her, all clad in the same red-and-silver getup, a pirate’s sword appliqued across the front. What was this, a damn cheerleader convention?
“Try calling them one more time,” said a petite girl with black hair twisted into dozens of braids. “They should be here by now.”
The first girl who’d spoken made a noise of annoyance and turned on her heel, storming in my direction. My heart staggered for a minute, but she brushed past without even looking at me, staring down at her phone. She swiped her thumb across it a couple of times, then lifted it to her ear. I watched her self-consciously. Her dark waist-length hair was pulled into a half-up, half-down style, and the upper portion was curled and streaming with silver and red ribbons. With her lithe, athletic figure and flawless porcelain skin, she made a picture-perfect ambassador for Bayview. Hell, forget head cheerleader—she could have been queen of the school.
Except for that scowl on her face, of course. Pretty sure the cheer coach at my old high school would have slapped any of her girls she caught wearing an expression like that. Nothing but a Barbie-like grin would fly for that squad. I’d never even bothered to try out. My best attempt at a phony smile just looked like I was smelling something bad.
“Leah, where the hell are you?” the girl suddenly snapped into her phone. She was pacing back and forth in front of the wall a few feet away from me. She glanced blankly in my direction for a second, her brown eyes locking with mine. A weird feeling washed over me, like déjà vu. She reminded me of someone—a girl I’d had a crush on in middle school, I think. I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me, though. “You and Joanie were supposed to meet us at San Luis half an hour ago. If your asses don’t get here in five minutes, we’re going to be late for the meet. So freaking call me already.”
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