Instinct

by Mattie Dunman

  “Yeah, I just started,” I say. “I’m Derry MacKenna.”

  The pixie girl snorts and covers her mouth. “Dairy? Like a dairy cow?” she asks snidely. I blink at the insult and stare at her uncomprehendingly. “Should we call you Bessie?”

  “Shut up, Megan. Don’t be a bitch,” Shane says lazily and then gives me an apologetic look. “Don’t worry about Megan; she can’t stand it when someone is prettier than her.”

  Megan snarls, her face red, and I think he is probably right. Still, I’m kind of pleased she is jealous of me; it means that I’m at least attractive enough to function in high school, something I have been paranoid about all day.

  “I was just kidding. God,” she mutters, shooting me a poisonous look. I don’t think I’ve made a friend there.

  “Nice to meet you, Derry. I’m Cathy.” The other girl sticks out a skinny arm and extends a hand for me to shake. She is tall and thin to the point of being scrawny, with a long face ending in a pointed chin. Her jaw looks sharp enough to cut a steak. Flat brown hair clings to her skull, hanging limply around her shoulders. Still, she has a pleasant smile on her face that brightens her skin, and I can feel that she is genuine.

  “And I’m Shane, and obviously that’s Megan. Not that I’m not glad to see you back here, but are you sure you’re supposed to be in the lab? Shockey doesn’t usually let new students on the paper, and this is where we meet.” Shane is tall and bulky without being fat. He wears a tight polo shirt that strains against the ropy muscles in his arms in a way that screams weight-lifting. Dark brown hair is cut short, buzzed close to his scalp with almost military precision. Features slightly too heavy prevent him from being attractive, but based on the way the girls defer to him, I’m guessing it hasn’t stopped him from getting his way.

  Struggling to focus, I smile and nod. “Yes, I talked to Mr. Shockey this morning. I’ve worked on a paper before, so he was willing to let me join.”

  Shane’s eyes gleam, and he looks me over again. “Cool. Welcome to The Agitator.”

  I frown. “The what?”

  Cathy laughs and waves her hands in protest. “I know, it’s dumb. The paper’s name is The Agitator. In John Brown’s honor, you know.” I had read about the abolitionist John Brown before moving here, knowing that his attempted slave insurrection before the Civil War was one of the most controversial events during that period. His name is everywhere in town. There’s even a wax museum based on his exploits.

  “Sounds like a wrestler’s name, doesn’t it?” Shane jokes, and I can’t help a small smile.

  “Maybe a little,” I admit, still trying to ignore the death daggers Megan is flinging my way with her eyes.

  The tone for the start of class sounds and my three companions tense up, looking back toward the door, waiting, I assume, for Jake. A shadow precedes him through the doorway and then a startlingly good-looking boy walks in. Chestnut hair is luminous beneath the fluorescent lights and falls into his eyes charmingly, shifting to reveal brilliant slate-blue eyes that are crisp with anger. High cheekbones and a clear cut jaw frame his features, as perfect as any star in the movies and TV shows I’ve glutted on for the past few weeks trying to learn proper high school etiquette. He is lean, but with his fists clenched in silent fury, I can see the hard line of muscle taut against his sleeves. No wonder Cathy is in love with him. I feel a bit breathless myself.

  For a moment he just looks around the room, as though waiting for a challenge, and then his scowl lands on me. Something flickers in his eyes, and they take on an intense focus that is both intriguing and disquieting. I am frozen under his stare, trying to think of something to say that will make the hostile edge of his expression soften, to release me from the harsh power of his glare.

  Finally the moment passes and he puts out a hand and smiles at me, teeth glinting in a manner that reminds me of a wolf baring fangs at its prey.

  “I could kill you,” he says.

  I leap to my feet, staggering back away from him. He blinks in surprise, and I can feel the shock of the others in the room, but all I can see is the fierce glint in his eyes, all I can hear is the vehemence with which he promises to kill me.

  “Are you ok?” he asks, brow clouding in bewilderment, and I take a deep breath, trying to slow the frantic pounding of my pulse. I take another step back, putting as much distance between us as possible. My eyes dart around frantically, searching for something I can use to explain my bizarre behavior. At last, I spot a quarter-sized spider hanging from the wall behind him and I blow out my breath in a huff.

  I point to the offending arachnid and force myself to focus. “Sorry, there’s a…a spider…” I whisper, my voice hoarse with fear. He whips around and sees it. His fingers unclench and he quickly grabs a piece of paper and collects the spider.

  “Be right back,” he says, baring his teeth at me again and slips out of the room. My entire body sags in relief, and I drop back into my chair. The others are watching me with bewildered expressions, and I smile to cover my embarrassment. Megan rolls her eyes.

  “Man, you must really hate spiders,” Shane finally breaks the silence. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost or something.”

  I laugh nervously and nod. “Yeah. Terrified of them,” I lie. Spiders are okay.

  Cathy gives me a sympathetic look and then shrugs. “I hate stink bugs. You’ll see a bunch of them around here in the spring. They’re everywhere,” she says, and I am grateful to her for trying to make me feel less like an idiot. I hear Megan mumble something derogatory under her breath, but she doesn’t push it.

  Jake walks back into the room more controlled. He has smoothed his hair back from his face and I am struck again by the clarity of his features, the confidence in his posture. A shiver runs down my back and I have to force myself to stay still and not back into the corner furthest from him.

  “It’s gone. You okay?” he asks again, his voice less confrontational. I nod and try to work up some semblance of normalcy.

  “Yes, thanks. Sorry about that, spiders just freak me out.”

  “No problem. So, who are you?” he asks, his tone still not completely friendly. He looks right and his tone is almost there, but I can still sense a veiled ferocity that makes me wary.

  “I’m Derry. And you’re Jake?”

  I hear Megan snicker in the background but ignore it. “Yes, like I said.” Irritation is just beneath his tone. I wonder what I’ve done in the thirty seconds I’ve known him to cause such hatred.

  “Well, Derry, I hope you’re as good as you think you are. I don’t know what you did to charm Shockey so fast,” he says, though his expression makes it clear exactly what he thinks I’ve done. “But we’ll see soon enough if you can take the pressure.”

  I frown, not understanding what he’s talking about. How can he be so upset that I’m on the paper?

  Before I can reply, Shockey enters the room and closes the door behind him, cutting us off from the rest of the class. Jake steps toward him, his mouth opening, but the teacher gives him a quelling look and turns to address the rest of us.

  “I want to see all of these girls naked,” he says, and gestures to me with a welcoming smile. I have a sick feeling in my stomach, but I assume he is introducing me, so I wave. Megan’s eyes roll so far back in her head it has to hurt.

  “Derry has an impressive portfolio. She’s worked on several different papers in the past couple years, so she should be able to give you all some insight on how journalists do things in the real world,” he continues proudly, as though my success up until now is his doing. I can feel my cheeks flush as I take in the skeptical looks of my fellow classmates.

  “Anything you want to add, Derry?” Shockey asks. My throat has closed up again, so I just shake my head. “Ok, Jake you show her the ropes, and the rest of you, I want to see story ideas by tomorrow.” With another smile and a leisurely survey of the girls in the room, Shockey heads back out to the main classroom, leaving an uneasy hush in his wake.

&
nbsp; After a moment, Jake, who does seem to be in charge, gives me a venomous look and turns to the others. “Megan, maybe you can check with the principal and see if he has any announcements to make. Shane, why don’t you get the sports schedules for the semester, and find out if the coaches have anything for us. Cathy,” he says in a slightly softer voice, “any idea what you want to work on?”

  Cathy beams under his attention. “Um, I had thought maybe a spotlight on seniors? You know, each issue we could have interviews about their time here…sort of a last semester hurrah?” she suggests, her voice gaining strength as she continues. Jake smiles at her approvingly.

  “Go for it. Anybody have anything else?” he asks, looking at the others. Megan elbows Shane and he sighs before he speaks.

  “Yeah, we kind of thought…well, look man, don’t get upset or anything, but we thought maybe we should do a story about Miranda. Maybe get some interviews about her. Kind of a memorial piece,” he says, confidence trailing as he finishes.

  Jake’s face is carved stone as he stares back at Shane, who seems to shrink slightly, quite an achievement for someone his size.

  “Or not…you know, whatever you think is best,” Shane says quietly.

  I look back and forth between the others, who are clearly uncomfortable, glancing around at everything but Jake. It takes me a moment to remember that Miranda is the girl whose locker has become a shrine, the one Nicole said died in October. Jake’s wooden frame and inscrutable expression suggests that he knew her too.

  After a moment, Jake’s face loses its dangerous edge and he gives Shane a faint smile. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Do you mind taking care of it?”

  Clearly relieved, Shane nods and gestures at Megan. “We’ve got it, man. No worries.”

  “Alright, let’s get to work. I’m going to call our advertisers and make sure they’re in for this semester.” Jake finally turns to me, his cloudy blue eyes stark with anger. “Oh. Right. Derry, you’re supposed to take the community beat.”

  I hear a collective intake of breath from the others and understand this is what has Jake so pissed.

  “Okay,” I say cautiously, gauging how close Jake is to beating me senseless.

  He glowers at me, and the rest of the group skitters away to their various assignments. There is so much focused rage in Jake’s expression that his first statement to me doesn’t feel so far-fetched. His entire body radiates barely contained aggression, and all of it is directed at me. For a moment I consider fleeing out the door and never coming back, but just as quickly I feel my spine stiffen and meet him glare for glare. He may want to kill me, but it won’t take me long to learn enough about him to give him pause. Just a few conversations and I’ll know his most hidden desires and secrets. Not a bad bargaining chip.

  “What does that involve?” I finally ask. He blinks and narrows his gaze. His eyes hold all the warmth of a glacier.

  “You keep track of what’s being covered by the town’s newspaper and other local news sources. You look for stories in the community that affect the school. It used to be my beat, so if you have any questions, I’d be happy to help you.” He bites off his words as though they taste bad, and my skin hums with his insincerity. Understanding filters in and I can see why he’s so angry. Given Shockey’s proclivities, Jake probably thinks I’ve been given his beat because I flirted with the teacher or something. So not only does he have a quick temper and homicidal tendencies, he’s a chauvinist.

  “I’m sure I can manage,” I say sweetly, stepping out of his reach, just in case.

  “Fine,” he snaps, and turns away, switching on one of the computers and stiffening his back so much I could bounce a quarter off of it.

  I glance around and take the computer no one is using and pull up a search engine. It takes me only a few moments to find out who the PR manager is at the local paper, the Daily Holler.

  Jake is using the classroom’s phone, so I dig out my cell and notice I’ve missed a text from Mom.

  I don’t think you’ll last the day.

  I blink and the words right themselves.

  Hope you’re having a great day!

  I quickly send back a falsely cheerful message and then dial the number on the computer screen.

  “I’m completely broke,” a harried male voice answers. I assume I’ve reached the right person and continue, wondering what the greeting was meant to sound like.

  “Hello, my name is Derry MacKenna. I’m with the high school’s Agitator and have just been put on the community beat. I know you must be very busy right now, so I don’t want to take up your time. I just wanted to introduce myself and see when a good time to contact you would be,” I say as congenially as possible. There’s a pause on the other end and then he answers.

  “What happened to Jake?”

  With the boy in question in the room and listening to me if his slightly turned head and frozen posture is any indication, I reply carefully. “Jake has been put onto a more pressing assignment for the moment, so I’m filling in.” Jake’s shoulders slacken minutely.

  “Oh okay. Well, now’s not a great time, but why don’t you stop by the office Wednesday after school? Just ask for Derek at the front desk.”

  “Thank you so much. I appreciate your time,” I say and we hang up. Jake spins around in his chair and spears me with a stare. I bat my eyes and smile innocently. Perhaps it’s not wise to bait someone who has violent intentions toward me, but something about him makes my hackles rise and I can’t seem to help myself. With a dark look, he turns back around and returns to his work. I hear Megan snicker next to me.

  “I hate being short.”

  “Sorry, what?” I ask.

  “I said nice try,” she whispers. “Derek’s his cousin. He’s going to know Jake got replaced by this evening.”

  I shrug and start looking through the articles on the newspaper’s website. Not satisfied by my reaction, Megan persists.

  “What did you do to get that beat, anyway? Jake’s had it since sophomore year and never gave it up, not even when he took over as editor last semester.” She’s genuinely curious, I can tell, so I decide to be honest.

  “I’ve been writing for papers since I was fourteen. I started out as an intern, but I’ve been freelancing for the past two years. I do actually have some experience.”

  Megan runs her eyes over me doubtfully. “You sure it’s not because you gave Shockey a blow job?”

  I am shocked by her coarseness and feel the color rush to my cheeks. She smirks and starts to turn around.

  “No. Is that how you got your position?” I ask ingenuously. Her own face reddens and she sneers unconvincingly. She can dish it, as they say, but she can’t take it.

  “Well, we must both be here based on our respective…talents.” She ignores me and returns to her work. Fine with me.

  I spend the rest of the period working quietly, trying to get a feel for the types of stories I might need to cover, and by the time the tone sounds, feel reasonably confident that I can come up with some ideas. Everyone gathers up their bags and gets ready to go. Jake stalks out the door without a glance in my direction, and despite my earlier resolve not to be scared, I am relieved to see the back of him.

  Cathy gives me a quick smile and hurries after him. I wonder if they’re dating. If so, he’s not a very attentive boyfriend. Megan leaves, barely holding back a snarl as she passes. I hear laughter behind me and see Shane watching Megan with affectionate amusement. He turns and waves for me to go ahead of him.

  “I’m a total hound,” he says. I repress an urge to bang my head against the wall.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said don’t worry about her. She’ll cool down eventually. She’s been queen bee around here for so long, she can’t stand any competition,” he repeats and I smile despite myself.

  “I’m not really looking to compete,” I mumble.

  “You don’t really have to,” Shane says, admiration clear in his voice
. Despite his unconscious admission to being a player, I am flattered. At least someone here likes me.

  “I hurt girls like you.” Shockey’s voice rings out through the classroom and I jerk to a halt. He is looking at me expectantly, but hot fingers of loathing clutch my throat. I know instinctively that he doesn’t mean hurt emotionally.

  “She did great, Mr. Shockey. Fits right in,” Shane answers and I smile at him gratefully, even more thankful for his big, muscular male presence. I am absolutely certain I never want to be alone with Shockey.

  “Well, great. See you tomorrow, guys.” I wave half-heartedly and follow Shane out the door, feeling a huge sense of relief as soon as I’m out of Shockey’s eye line.

  “You okay?” Shane asks, worry darkening his features for the first time.

  “Sure.”

  He glances back at the room and then puts his head close to mine. “Look I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but everyone knows that Shockey’s a perv. And let’s face it, you’re totally hot.” A wolfish grin splits his face and I laugh. “Just…watch out for him, okay?” he warns, all seriousness back.

  I can’t help but wonder why the man is a teacher if everyone agrees that he’s some sort of sexual deviant, but what do I know? This is my first experience in a public school, and I guess that kind of thing is hard to prove.

  “Yeah. Thanks for the warning,” I say, rethinking my earlier impression of Shane. He might have sex on the brain, but he is a teenage boy. He seems nice.

  “No worries. See you tomorrow.” He takes off, joining a group of guys who are wearing basketball uniforms and heading toward the gym. I knew he was a jock.

  Mom is waiting for me in the long line of cars out front, and I hop into our faded yellow 1971 Gran Torino. It is louder than a twin engine airplane, but it runs well and is a tank when it comes to accidents. Mom once backed it into a telephone pole when she wasn’t paying attention. The pole was chipped and mauled. The car didn’t have a scratch.