Greensburg had this marvelous (according to the School Board) campus that squished the elementary school, middle school and the high school next to each other. Consequently, the younger kids enjoyed the agony of sharing the halls with the older kids. That beautiful arrangement allowed Mason and his thugs to mistreat all ages, as they saw fit. And they saw fit a lot.
As he stalked toward us, Mason broke into a nasty smile that grew bigger and bigger, like the Grinch when he had his wonderful, awful idea. The Grinch had his dog Max, and Mason had his dog, Bobby. Bobby Blys was a small, mouse-haired boy with a lightbulb-shaped head and abundant ears. He was a brain, and I think Mason admired him for it. But he was also a little geeky—actually, a lot geeky—and a favorite target of Mason and his goons. His buzz cut and Mr. Magoo glasses didn’t help. They just made his ears more noticeable. Not that they needed help…he could hang glide in a weak breeze.
Bobby knelt facing an open locker down the hall from us. Mason stopped beside him and whispered something I couldn’t hear. Bobby looked up at him and shook his head. Mason smiled, reached out and slammed the door on Bobby’s face just after a teacher disappeared into his classroom. Besides being helpless, the teachers are completely buffaloed when it comes to Mason. His public displays of nastiness are legendary, and so is his timing. He never gets caught.
“The jerk,” Kathryn fumed. “Why can’t he leave Bobby alone? He thinks he’s so tough.”
“Mason’s a coward,” I said, glaring at him. “He never picks on anybody who can fight back.”
“Time to put a stop to it.” Kathryn whipped an umbrella from her book bag.
“What are you gonna do with that, open it and give him bad luck?”
“Hey, these things are deadly in the right hands. You stomp him, then. I mean, you are a major butt-kicking machine, aren’t you? I’ll cover your back.”
“You know I can’t.” Not that I wouldn’t have liked to. Stuffing Mason’s head up his nether regions would bring me unbridled joy. It was times like these that made me wish I didn’t have a secret identity to guard.
“If I practiced every night to kick major butt, I’d definitely kick butts that needed major kicking,” Kathryn said. “Whatever happened to ‘With great power comes great responsibility’?”
“That’s for people who have issues with radioactive spiders.”
“You have issues with any kind of spider.”
“Okay.” I took Kathryn by the umbrella and pulled her toward Bobby and Mason. “Maybe if we give Mason dirty looks, he’ll go away.”
Bobby closed his locker door and got up to leave, rubbing the egg-sized knot on his head. Without a word, Mason pushed him up against the lockers. Bobby’s lip quivered. He stared up at Mason with wide, watery eyes.
“You should reconsider,” Mason said, his face suddenly grim. “This project means a lot to the community. You know how civic-minded I am.”
“You don’t know what you’re making.” Bobby’s knees shook. “It’s illegal, Mason. I heard Tammy Angel bragging. She said—”
“Angel is a perfectly law-abiding citizen, just like me.” Mason pinched Bobby’s trembling cheeks in his huge hands and stretched his mouth into a grin. “We’re one big happy family.”
“Let him alone, Draudimon!” Kathryn screamed.
Mason turned and beamed. He released Bobby’s cheeks and whacked him on the side of his head. “Gotta talk to your girlfriend, Roberto. I think she likes me.”
“Your dog doesn’t even like you,” I snapped, as Mason stepped toward us. Kathryn stared at me in disbelief and proceeded to walk backward until she disappeared around the corner. So much for covering my back.
“Smile when you say that, Peroxide,” Mason said, reaching for me. “My dog’s dead. Hey, I wonder if you’d look like Mrs. Bagley if I put your hair up in a bun. Let’s find out. Did you know that one day I aspire to be a hairdresser?”
I backed against the wall. Peroxide. That was hardly fair. It wasn’t my fault I had super white blond hair. It just grew that way. Beautiful visions of kicking Mason right in his nomenclature danced in my head. Retribution for giving me that nasty name. Of course, properly kicking said anatomy might expose my secret. Clark Kent had it so much easier. As long as he kept his glasses on, there was no way he’d be mistaken for Superman.
Still, even Clark fought back if a life were in danger. And getting a new hairdo from an unlicensed wombat clearly put my life in danger of eternal humiliation. Mason was hand-delivering me a reason to do what the Kilodan wanted me to do. If I only used my less potent skills…one little judo chop would drop Mason like a bad cell phone connection. Then the school would see that Mason wasn’t so tough, and they wouldn’t be afraid of him anymore. At least, that’s how it worked in the movies.
I sunk nervously into my fighting stance, wondering how accurate movie wisdom was.
“Oh, horror, Peroxide’s actually defending herself this time,” Mason said, covering his mouth with both hands.
“You wouldn’t beat up a girl half your size, would you?” Appealing to his manliness might save me the hassle of dusting the lockers with his face.