by Amy Ignatow
“Saw what?” Nick asked. He felt very strange, as if a small, cold breeze was blowing on the back of his neck.
“So . . . say, Nick, old man. How long have you been able to teleport?”
“Excuse me?”
“How long, exactly, have you been able to change locations in a split second without moving?” Jay asked. “Is this a new thing? Because I don’t think I’ve seen you do it before.”
It was Nick’s turn to stare at Jay. This had to be another one of his crazy fantasies. Nick looked at Cookie. “Ignore him.”
“I think you should answer him,” she whispered.
“What? Why?”
“I JUST SAW YOU DO IT!” Cookie half screamed, half bleated.
Silence.
“HE DID IT AGAIN! DID YOU SEE THAT?”
Jay looked very pale. “I saw it.”
Nick was about to tell Jay that he was clearly delusional, but he was interrupted by the loud boom of the first explosion.
They ran together. Under any other circumstance, being seen anywhere near Jay Carpenter and Nick Gross in public was pretty unthinkable for Cookie, but it seemed like unthinkable was quickly becoming the word of the day.
As they bolted toward the glowing-red EMERGENCY EXIT sign, Nick disappeared and reappeared twice. “STOP THAT!” Cookie screamed at him.
“I CAN’T!” he yelled over the sounds of the fire alarm, disappearing again and immediately showing up slightly to the left of where he had just been.
“DO SOMETHING!” Cookie screamed to Jay, who immediately jumped on Nick’s back.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING???” Nick roared.
“RUN!” Jay squeaked, clinging to Nick for dear life as they all bolted out the door and headed for the small hill that overlooked the sports fields. Students were streaming out of the building while teachers tried to keep everyone calm. A huge plume of dark gray smoke was rising up from behind the school. Cookie looked at Nick. He hadn’t blinked out once since Jay had jumped on his back.
Nick was turning red. “Can’t . . . go . . . farther . . .” he wheezed, dumping Jay on the ground and immediately disappearing again.
When he rematerialized, Cookie grabbed his arm and looked at Jay. “If one of us isn’t holding on to him, he’ll disappear again!”
“ON IT!” Jay yelled, jumping back on top of Nick, who stumbled and fell and dragged them all down with him.
Oh dear god. Cookie was lying in the wet grass with Nick Gross and Jay Carpenter. What if Izaak saw her? Or Claire? She knew that she could never say, “That wasn’t me, that was some other black girl who looked exactly like me—you know, the other black girl?” because there were no other black girls in the school. There was an Indian girl, Harshita Singh, but only the dumbest, most nearsighted racist would confuse Cookie with her. She untangled herself but stayed low to the ground, hoping against hope that things were too chaotic down on the field for anyone to notice her. “Don’t. Let. Him. Go,” she ordered Jay.
“Yes, my queen,” Jay responded, pinning Nick to the ground. Cookie gagged.
“Get off me!” Nick groaned.
“No,” Jay said. “I think the beautiful and intelligent Daniesha is right. I think that if someone is holding on to you, you can’t . . . do whatever it is that you’re doing.”
“Holding on to someone and tackling them to the ground are two different things!” Nick said, panting.
“Right,” Jay said, looking at Cookie. “Hold his hand.”
“Ew, no,” Cookie said. Nick looked hurt. “No offense,” she added somewhat lamely.
“Fine, I’ll hold his hand.” Jay grabbed Nick’s hand while rolling off of him. They got awkwardly to their feet. “Pleased to make your acquaintance!” Jay giggled, pumping Nick’s hand.
“And how do you do?” Nick laughed.
Cookie stared at them. Then looked down at the students and teachers still filing out onto the field. The thought of joining the larger group made Cookie feel dizzy. They were already so loud.
“Daniesha?” Jay asked. He looked worried. “Are you all right?”
She could hear them all buzzing inside her head, talking about how to get out of the field and back to their houses, and how to get back into the school and to their classes, and which would be the best way to sneak out . . . It was so loud. Cookie put her hands over her ears to muffle the noise, but there was no difference. She spotted Mrs. Whitaker down on the field. Standing next to her was the girl with the yellow eyes. The girl was too far away to see her eye color, but she was looking right at Cookie.
Nick came up to Cookie, dragging Jay with him. She saw him mouth her name but couldn’t hear him over the noise from everyone below.
Suddenly she heard a very loud voice saying, I have to get to the back steps. Her hands were clasped firmly over her ears but it was like the voice was right by her ear. I have to find her. I have to take the hallway near the theater and get out where no one can see me. I have to find that emergency exit.
Cookie turned to point at the emergency exit door they had just used. “Someone’s coming,” she said. Two seconds later Mr. Friend, wild-eyed, limping, and wearing a long jacket over a hospital gown, burst out. He saw them immediately.
“YOU!” he yelled, pointing at Nick, Jay, and Cookie. Behind them a tree burst into flames.
RUN.
As the ball of fire erupted in the trees at the edge of the schoolyard, the orderly lines of students below immediately melted into a screaming, running swarm. Cookie took off toward the forest that bordered the soccer field and Jay and Nick followed, not bothering to look back to see what had become of Mr. Friend.
Nick fell as soon as they hit the hill, losing his grip on Jay’s bony little hand. As Nick tumbled he knew that he was blinking in and out. That’s what it felt like—blinking. Blink, and he was a little farther to his left than he’d been before. Blink, and it happened again.
“COME ON!” Cookie roared. She grabbed Nick’s hand and dragged him up to a standing position. Jay quickly grabbed his other hand as they set off at a run. Most of the other students were running toward the main road, away from the row of flaming trees, but Cookie veered to the left and dragged them toward a girl who was standing alone and watching the chaos. Cookie let go of Nick and grabbed the girl. “You’re coming with us,” she said.
The girl with the bright yellow eyes was now part of their group. She smiled at Cookie as they ran.
THE DAILY WHUT?
* * *
WHAT’S GOING ON??? Dear Hammerfans, in the past three hours there have been FOUR REPORTED EXPLOSIONS in Muellersville. There was an explosion in a parked car outside of the Muellersville hospital, another in a parked car on Denby Street, yet another IN THE PARKING LOT OF DEBORAH READ MIDDLE SCHOOL, and YET ANOTHER when a line of trees caught on fire . . . ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SCHOOL.
Now, some would say that we have a DEADLY ARSONIST in our midst (although, to be clear, no one has actually died . . . YET). The Hammer thinks it’s something even more nefarious—what if it’s MORE THAN ONE PERSON? Why haven’t we heard from Principal Jacobs? After all, it’s her school and the trees near her school that are on fire. Isn’t anyone willing to hold her feet to the flames? NOT LITERALLY. But we need some answers, and we need them before the truth is too hot to handle.
Keep asking questions,
The Hammer
* * *
Cookie wasn’t completely sure why she’d grabbed the girl; then again, she wasn’t really clear on much of anything. There were explosions, and running, and Nick needed someone to hold his hand to keep him from disappearing, and, oh, she’d just heard Mr. Friend’s voice INSIDE OF HER HEAD before he’d been anywhere near her. The whole world felt as if it had tilted violently on its axis, and Cookie was falling, with no idea where or when she would land. Maybe she’d feel better if she just threw up?
But she kept it in and kept running until she, Nick, Jay, and the girl with the yellow eyes were deep in the woods behind the school.
“Wait . . . wait . . .” She heard Nick gasping for breath behind her. She stopped and turned around to see him leaning on a tree. Jay was still holding his hand and the girl with the yellow eyes (that were currently brown) stood nearby, clutching her backpack and smiling.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was a little raspy. Cookie stared at her eyes, which remained brown.
“Hey,” Nick wheezed.
“Hello, my dear,” Jay said, letting go of Nick’s hand to give the girl a formal bow. Nick disappeared and then reappeared to the left of where he had been leaning on the tree, losing his balance and falling to the ground.
“Jay!” Cookie bleated.
“Sorry, sorry!” he yelped, jumping on top of Nick.
“You have to keep holding him! What if he rematerializes inside a tree?!?”
Nick blanched. “Oh my god, I hadn’t thought of that,” he whispered. “I could die.”
Cookie glared at him. “And I’d be traumatized FOR LIFE.”
Nick stood up quickly, dragging Jay with him. “YOU’D be traumatized? I’d be DEAD. This isn’t about YOU.”
Was this chubby nobody seriously yelling at Cookie Parker? She looked at him, her eyes narrowing with displeasure. Nick took one small step backward, and looked immediately smaller. Good. At least she still had some control over something, even if it was just Nick Gross.
“So,” said the girl with the yellow eyes to Nick, “you can disappear?”
Cookie turned around to see that the girl’s eyes were now a deep shade of violet. She felt her knees weaken. She’d been watching Nick disappear and reappear for the past twenty minutes, but there was something about this girl’s eyes that was incredibly frightening.
“Say, that’s neat,” Jay said. “Do it again.”
“Do what?” the girl asked.
“Your eyes,” Nick said. “They just changed color.” And at that the girl’s eyes changed back to brown.
“Stop that,” Cookie said.
“No, no no no,” Jay said, his own eyes gleaming. “She shouldn’t stop. She should never stop. This is AMAZING.”
“I don’t know if I can stop,” the girl said. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Her eyes changed to a leafy green.
“Whoa,” Nick said.
“Did they just change?” the girl asked.
Cookie whipped out her cell phone. Already there were fourteen texts from Addison, Claire, and Izaak, but she ignored them and turned on her camera to snap a picture of the girl.
“Neat,” the girl said when she saw the picture.
“My dear,” Jay said, “this is EXTRAORDINARY.” He turned to Nick. “You are also EXTRAORDINARY.” Jay looked at Cookie.
“What?” she said.
“Have no doubt, you have always been extraordinary, Daniesha, but now you are even more so.” Jay took a step toward Cookie while Nick stayed put, not-so-subtly trying to pull Jay back. “You, my dear, knew that Mr. Friend was going to come and get us before he was even out of the building.” He lowered his voice. “You’re clairvoyant.”
“Shut up,” Cookie snapped. “This isn’t extraordinary, this is a nightmare.” She looked at Nick. “What happens when this guy dematerializes in the middle of class? Or the exam? Or”—she pointed at the girl—“what happens when her eyes go all yellow again? The proctors are going to LOVE that.”
“Oh, my delicious goddess who is sweeter than the baked good from which her nickname is derived, stop thinking so small. Exams. Please! Look at what is happening here!” Jay gestured wildly with both arms, inadvertently flapping Nick’s. “Nick can transport himself! You can READ MINDS. This girl here—I’m sorry, my dear, what is your name?”
“I’m Martina.”
“This lovely Martina can change her already beautiful appearance. And let’s not forget that MR. FRIEND CAN CAUSE THINGS TO EXPLODE.” Jay was jittery with excitement. “You have all become SUPERHEROES.” He thought for a moment. “Except maybe Mr. Friend. He seemed maybe not so heroic. BUT STILL.”
Cookie’s head was pounding. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew that she wasn’t feeling particularly heroic. “Shut up!” she said again. The noises in her head—noises! Not voices! She refused to believe that they were voices—were getting louder. “Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup.” She sat down on a large rock and clasped her hands to her temples. This couldn’t be happening. She was not going to be a freak. She was Cookie Parker, dammit, and she already had the power to make other people do what she wanted, so she might as well turn that power on herself and do what she wanted, and what she wanted was not to be a FREAK.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Martina kneeling next to her. Her eyes were dark gray. “Hi,” the girl said again.
Cookie realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them off with the back of her muddy hand. “Are you going to tell me that everything is going to be all right?” she snapped at Martina.
“Oh, no,” Martina said. “I was just saying hi. I have no idea how things are going to turn out.”
Jay was the first to suggest that they find Farshad Rajavi. It made sense. With the exception of the driver, Jay explained, Farshad was the only person on the bus who they hadn’t seen since the hospital, and Jay was eager to find out if he had a power, too. He was almost a little too excited about it, which was saying something, because Nick was used to Jay being extremely excited.
There had been some really weird days in Nick Gross’s life. There was the day after his father’s funeral, when he and his mother were finally alone in their house and had no idea what to do with themselves. They’d spent the entire day flopped on the couch, watching an impromptu movie marathon of random films (The Lord of the Rings, They Live, Some Like It Hot, Ghost-busters, and Babe) and eating fancy stuff from the gift baskets that people had sent, before finally getting up to order pizza. Then there was the first day back at school after the funeral where everyone except for Jay had acted like life was normal, which Nick supposed it was for them. But none were quite as strange as this day.
Cookie hadn’t left her spot on the ground and didn’t seem particularly inclined to move. Or talk. Nick was worried about her but had no idea what to do. It seemed to him that trying to make Cookie feel better would be like trying to make a caged lion feel better: There, there, scary enormous cat that could murder and eat me, don’t feel so glum. Even Jay, who normally knew no boundaries, had the sense to leave Cookie alone. Nick knew that wasn’t going to last. Distraction was key. “Maybe we should stay out of sight until we can maybe try to control our . . . powers?” Nick asked.
“RIGHT,” Jay said. “Although I’m a little offended that you don’t just want to hold my hand lovingly in yours forever.” They both sneaked a look at Cookie. Not even an eye roll. Martina was scribbling something in her book. “Ah, well. Let’s get started.”
Teleporting was a strange experience. Nick never felt like he was disappearing and reappearing (what would that even feel like? Nick had no idea), but it was as if his vision jumped. One moment he’d be looking at Martina, and then Jay would let go of his hand and Martina would be a little bit more to the right than she had been. It was almost like looking at something up close and then winking one eye, and then the other. Nick never moved farther than a few inches, and he always moved to the left. After a while he could go for several minutes without teleporting. It seemed like progress.
“What if you aim to be somewhere?” Jay asked. “Try to want to be next to that stump.”
Nick tried, but moved a few inches to the left, farther away from the stump.
“Huh,” Jay said.
“Maybe he doesn’t actually want to be near the stump,” Cookie said. She had moved from her spot on the ground and was leaning against a tree.
“Now, why wouldn’t he want to be closer to the stump?” Jay asked.
“Because it’s a smelly, rotting old stump?”
�
��Interesting theory. Okay, Nick, let’s try to visualize the stump as a place where you’d actually want to be.”
Four inches to the left.
“I don’t know how good Nick’s imagination is,” Martina observed. She was writing or drawing something in her sketchbook again. Cookie was now trying to take furtive peeks over the girl’s shoulder without looking like she was interested.
Four inches to the left.
“You know what I’m noticing?” Jay said. “Nick isn’t naked.”
Four inches to the left.
“You noticed that, too? That was one of the first things I noticed about him,” Cookie said sarcastically.
“Really?” Martina asked, looking up at Nick momentarily. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“He’s teleporting with his clothes on,” Jay explained. “When he jumps, his clothing jumps, too. Here,” he said, picking up a rock and handing it to Nick, “see if this moves with you.”
Nick held the rock in his hand. Four inches to the left. The rock was still in his hand.
“So this means that if he’s holding on to something, he can teleport with it.”
“Yay,” Cookie said. “You won’t be randomly showing up places butt nekkid.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nick said. What a horrifying thought. Four inches to the left. The rock remained in his hand.
“Oh, Nick, the human body is a beautiful thing,” Jay said. “If I lived in a warmer climate and didn’t need pockets I would be unabashedly naked all the time.”
Nick turned red, refusing to look at Cookie and Martina as Jay continued. “He can hold a rock and make it move, but he can’t hold on to one of us and take us with him when he teleports. Here, hold his hand,” he instructed Cookie, dragging Nick toward her.
“You hold his hand,” she snapped.
“Very well.” He grabbed Nick’s hand. “Engage!”
“Excuse me?” Nick asked. Jay’s hand was clammy and he was kind of tired of having to hold it.
“Go on, my good man, engage! Engage the teleportation device! Go! I’m ready!”