Chapter 6: Rescue Mission

"Hey!" Not the strongest of entry lines, but my beaming smile should make up the difference. They seem shocked, the bully boys, I'm even there. Nice to have a bit of an advantage, even if it's just for a moment. I hook arms with Tate who stares at me with her mouth open. She's obviously so happy to see me she's speechless. "Great first day, right? Hope everyone is enjoying class so far." I tug at Tate, backing up slowly. Or, trying to back up. She resists, as small as she is, even shorter than me and I'm only 5'2". Okay, more like 5'5" thanks to my boots. Still, she's pretty strong for someone so little. "Tate, I was going to show you that thing before class, remember?" She shakes her head, mute, blue eyes blinking rapidly. "You know. That thing."

The leader of the group of boys-I've known Donnelly Holler most of my high school life and he's never been nice, as much as I'd like to say otherwise-folds his muscular arms over his broad chest and grins at me. It's not a nice expression, surprisingly enough. And here I was about to compliment him on his obvious attention to his physique this summer. He's packed on some muscle, the handsome devil.

"Look it here, boys," he says. "Little Kitty has come out to play."

They laugh, and I laugh with them, even though it's an old joke and I haven't found it funny since third grade.

"Meow," I say with a smile. "Excuse us, guys." Again I tug on Tate. She hesitates, but seems to waver and I put on some extra pull just to show her I mean business.

"Beat it, weirdo," Donnelly says. I glance at Tate. Wow, he didn't have to say that to her. She seems perfectly normal to me.

Wait. What? Was he talking to me? No. Impossible. I must have misheard him.

"Nice chatting," I say. "Coming, Tate?"

It's a shock when she pulls her arm free, rubbing at the spot, turning away from me. What can I do to save her now? Nothing, I suppose. How disappointing she's chosen the thug life. I shrug and half turn, but I hadn't noticed two of the guys slipped around and now stand behind me. Look down at me with dark smiles.

Huh. They must not realize I'm trying to leave.

"You need to learn to mind your own business, little kitten," Donnelly says behind me. I turn back to him, feeling a frown pull my eyebrows together. I carefully tweezed them last night, so I know they are perfect. Still, I hate the line that forms between them when I frown. Makes me look cranky. But, his use of my ancient nickname has triggered something I'm not used to and, I decide as I cross my own arms to mimic him, cranky is exactly how I'm starting to feel.

He'd better watch out or I might go all Kitalia on his butt.

That makes me snort inside and almost giggle out loud. Even more so when I notice the big, scary bully has missed an important wardrobe detail. "You do realize your fly is open, right?"

He scrambles to rectify the situation while his boys laugh at him. Tate's huge, blue gaze meets mine. She's still silent, almost breathless. I guess she doesn't talk much. Might be a developmental thing? Poor pet.

Donnelly's face has turned a dark shade of red, his hazel eyes bugging out. Wow, he looks angry for some reason. And after I saved him the embarrassment of walking around school with his tighty whiteys showing. That's gratitude for you.

Before he can say what he's about to say to me, one finger hovering near my nose-maybe I have something on my face?-the door at the end of the hall opens. I wave and smile at Mr. Kamphe who sighs as he approaches. The poor man really does need to get a good night's sleep. He seems tired all the time.

"Mr. Holler and company." Mr. Kamphe stops and watches as Donnelly and his boys back away, a few of them disappearing into the stinky bathroom. It's a wonder the teachers don't go in there and clean things up. My homeroom instructor then fixes me with his myopic, dark gaze, glasses shining as he turns his head, balding scalp matching the lenses. "Miss MacLean." He sounds even wearier when he says my name. I'm about to suggest a nap when he turns back to Donnelly. "Problem, folks?"

"No, sir, not a bit." Donnelly's red face has returned to a normal shade of tan. He folds his hands behind him, smiling that dazzling smile he's always had. I run my tongue over my crooked front tooth and internally sigh over its imperfection. "Just a friendly chat."

"Well, take it elsewhere." Mr. Kamphe waits while Donnelly bobs his head at Tate who is staring at the floor, then me. Though, for some reason, his smile doesn't seem friendly, not like his voice sounds when he speaks.

"Catch up with you later, ladies." He turns and leaves, his boys going with him, while Mr. Kamphe watches him go.

Interesting. Donnelly Holler has never shown any interest in being friends in all the years I've known him. Maybe that's changing now? Not that I'm really interested if he's the bully I've heard he is. But, it could be my person of interest star is finally rising at Rimtree High.

Wicked.

Mr. Kamphe clearly doesn't share my optimism. "Is there a reason you two are still here?"

Well. He didn't have to be so rude.

I turn to take Tate's arm again, to lead her away, only to find her hurrying off on her own, back the way she'd come. I follow, my boots thudding on the industrial tile, but by the time I reach the cafeteria, it's mostly empty and she's gone. Wow, she's way faster on her feet than me. Maybe my boots aren't such a great idea.

Nah. I love my boots.

I hurry to my locker after the warning bell goes off. Five minutes to retrieve my afternoon stuff and get to class. Good thing my locker is only a hallway down from the cafeteria. I brush past a trio of giggling girls who are watching something on their cell phones and almost trip over someone's foot as they walk by. Smiling an apology-I really should be more careful-I make it to my locker door, the fading yellow paint chipping around the edges of the slot holding my new lock. It takes me a moment to realize I'm not alone, to turn my head at the creeping feeling at the back of my neck someone is watching me.

I look to the right and see Tom Brown three lockers down, staring at me. Hands in his pockets, brown hair shaggy over his forehead, glasses hanging low on his nose. He wiggles it until they rise, one finger assisting, pushing firmly until the wire rims hit the skin between his brows. Like a fuzzy brown rabbit who needs a few extra meals to thicken him out. Giant ears form over his head, flopping to one side, pink nose bobbing a few times before he's human again.

Tom Brown. Computer genius. He's been on the periphery of my life ever since I can remember. Ever since kindergarten, I'm pretty sure. And while every time I try to talk to him he makes himself scarce, I'm sure he wants to be real friends. Sure, I beat him at chess in second grade once. I only remember that day because he flipped out and said I cheated. Which I didn't. I'm just really good at chess. We haven't had much direct contact since then, just him hovering in the background. So weird he'd be standing there like that, staring, when he usually scrambles away once I've noticed him watching.

Oh boy. Maybe he has a crush on me. I used to worry that was the case and have spent ages trying to think how I would ever let him down nicely. I flush and look away a moment, tug open my locker, blocking my view of him. Not that I'm superficial or anything, but he's so not my type. I close the door, glance over. Shocking. He's still there.

Should I say something? I guess I'd better. I smile, bright and friendly, wave at him. If I'm friendly as usual, he might run away like he always does. Or get the hint that I'm only interested in friendship. It's only then I realize, as I turn toward him, he looks kind of upset.

Oops. Maybe I wasn't supposed to notice him watching? Guys are so weird about stuff like that. About being the first ones to approach you instead of the other way around. At least, that's what Clare told me once. I have, as yet, to experiment with that kind of thing.

I take a step toward him just as a couple of girls in my homeroom walk between us, the first at her locker. When I slip around them to confront him-I hate leaving things hanging, no matter how difficult the conversation might be, and this one seems long overdue-Tom is walking away.

I'll never understand guys. Not ever.

It's a quick dash to my math class, and I just make it as the bell rings. Heaving a sigh of relief, I settle into my chair and pull out my notebook, leaping up again to volunteer to hand out text books. Mrs. Malcolm seems to think that's funny. I just like being helpful.

When the math lesson starts, I'm doodling again. I've already studied this year's textbook and pretty much know it by heart. Part of me wonders if I should ask Mom and Dad to put me into harder courses after all, like Mr. Standard wanted, but I don't want to stand out. I'm having so much fun in school, I worry about jumping ahead like that. Besides, it gives me more time to save the world...

Hmmm. I need a new mission for Kitalia. Drug lords? Nah, did that last week. Mad scientist takeover? Feels passé. How about an alien invasion? Doesn't seem like something Kitalia would have to deal with. Makes me wonder if I should be toying with a change of identity. As much as I hate to abandon her, my days as a CIA agent might be coming to an end.

After all, there's a really cool idea brewing about a Dragon Walker named Kitesh I've been dying to explore...

I'm tempted to do so. Until every phone in the room chimes. And the laughter starts.

***