Invincible Chronicles of Nick

chapter 10



Nick sat in English, bored out of his mind. Why was this even a subject? Really? He spoke English, rather fluently most days, first thing in the morning or really late at night notwithstanding. It, like everything else they forced him to suffer through in school, was such an epic waste of his time. Completely irrelevant. Would it honestly matter in a hundred years whether or not he’d read Moby Dick?

Was he ever going to have a job application where they made him diagram a sentence or pick out a gerund?

Stop your bitching, Nick. You should try being an immortal demon who’s lived since the dawn of time having to sit through this crap when English is not my native tongue, and if you think you’re fluent in it, buddy, I actually know what a gerund is.

Nick looked askance at Caleb, who sat beside him on the other row, doing the wiggy mind meld with him. Yeah, but these handful of years are just a blip in your massively long life. They’re a significant percentage of mine.

Caleb scoffed in his head. Look, there you go using some of the stuff you’ve learned. Math. What a concept? Maybe it’s not a waste after all.

Nick snorted.

“Look who’s come out of his coma. Did you have something to say to the class?”

Blinking, Nick focused on his teacher.

Which tactic to use? Better go with dumb. If nothing else, that one usually kept him out of detention. “Um, what?”

Mrs. Richardson came forward to eye him like the bitter troll she was. She hated teaching, and everyone knew it. Her favorite part of her job was embarrassing or belittling her students every time she forced them to open their mouths. “Are we boring you, Mr. Gautier?”

Man, it was impressive how she made his name sound like an insult. He’d like to master those evil human tricks.

But first, he had to get out of the frying pan and hopefully bypass the fire. “Not bored. I sneezed. Sorry.”

“That was a pathetic excuse for a sneeze.”

I swear she should argue before the Supreme Court. “I was trying not to disturb the class with it.”

She narrowed her gaze even more, as if she knew he was lying, but not so positive that she called him on it. “Then perhaps you’d like to give us your view of Ahab’s need for vengeance?”

I’d really rather not. But he knew he had to, since the chances of her letting him off the hook now ranked up there with him spontaneously combusting into flames in his seat, so he answered honestly. “It was stupid.”

She arched a brow at him. “Stupid how? Like the way you and your friends spend all your time playing video games and feeding into a useless consumer-driven society? Or stupid like those of you who think you can doze off and text in my class and still pass?”

Stupid like you were when you believed the saleswoman who told you that dress looked good on you? It was hard to bite that comment back, but he knew better than to let it spew out. Only she was allowed to be venomous in the classroom. Anyone else would be suspended.

Clearing his throat, Nick scratched his neck, uncomfortable at the fact that everyone was now staring at him. A handful were snickering. Two more sneering and one girl rolled her eyes as if he were mentally defective. He hated being the center of attention. Why did teachers have to do this? It was like they purposefully singled out the kids who least wanted to participate or they waited until they knew it was the wrong time to send a guy to the board. Couldn’t they let him fly under the radar? At least for a day or two?

No, let’s humiliate Nick even more. ’Cause face it, life just didn’t suck enough.

Nick braced himself for her ridicule before he defended his position. “Well … he lets it ruin his life. He gets so obsessed with going after the one thing that hurt him that he loses sight of everything else. He becomes isolated from everyone and everything. Paranoid. He feels like he can’t trust anyone around him ever. In the end, he loses everything, even his life. And for what? Total stupidity, if you ask me.”

“So you’re saying that if you were Ahab, you’d let it go and move on with your life? Even if it was the person you loved most on this earth who was killed and you were left with a lingering deformity from it?”

“Absolutely. Crap happens to everyone. Put on your big-boy pants and deal. You got to let it go and move on.”

She tapped her cheek with her pencil as if considering his take on the book. “Interesting idea. Naïve and immature, but interesting.” She looked to Caleb. “What about you, Mr. Malphas? Do you have anything to add to Mr. Gautier’s ill-conceived opinion? What did you take out of the book, provided you actually read it instead of watching the movie like Ms. Harris did?”

Tina slinked down low in her desk. Richardson was never going to let the poor girl live that one down.

Caleb leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, cocky in a way only someone who’d probably read every book ever written could be. “I see it as a parallel for Oedipus Rex.”

“Intriguing. Do continue.”

Caleb yawned before he answered. “Even though someone can see the course they’re on and know their fate, they can’t change or stop it. Prophecy is prophecy. Things happen that we can’t control. It’s when you try to prevent it that life really gets screwed up.”

“Explain.”

“Well, Ahab is told repeatedly by a variety of people that if he doesn’t stop his obsessive quest, he’ll die. Like Starbuck says, ‘ ’Tis an ill voyage! ill begun, ill continued; let me square the yards, while we may, old man, and make a fair wind of it homewards, to go on a better voyage than this.’” Caleb looked at Nick. “Ahab doesn’t listen and dies because he’s stupid.”

Nick laughed.

Until his teacher glared at him.

Cringing, he sobered instantly.

“Nice summation, Mr. Malphas.” She headed for the board. “It’s essay time, class. Hope all of you are up to date on your reading. If not, I will soon know and you will regret it, and don’t even try siccing your parents on me. If I get one phone call about unfair treatment, I’ll automatically deduct thirty-five points off your final grade. And ten points off everyone else’s, just for good measure.”

Ignoring her, Nick wanted to know why Caleb had so obviously directed those last words to him. He might be a lot of things in life, but he’d never been an idiot. Especially not where his life was concerned. Obsession was not his thing. He believed in rolling with the punches.…

Oh, wait. Did Caleb know about his wanting to go after Alan for shooting him?

Yeah, okay, so that wasn’t so easy to let go. But the turd had shot him. Shot him. Would have killed him, too, without a second thought, had Kyrian not stopped him, and Alan would have beaten up two innocent older people. Someone needed to stop that animal. Going after Alan wasn’t obsession. That was a public service.

Suddenly, the intercom turned on, making several kids, including Nick, jump in their seats. “Mrs. Richardson? Could you send Nick Gautier to the office?”

Nick’s stomach hit the floor. Such a summons was never good, at least not where he was concerned.

What did I do now?

Actually that wasn’t the question. What are they blaming me for now? He was the one person who could never get away with anything without getting caught. And he was always the one they held up as an example to everyone else. Or worse, he was totally innocent in the matter and blamed anyway and still held up as an example.

She curled her lip at him as she spoke to the intercom. “He’s on his way.”

Nick packed his bag up, just in case a suspension was looming, then stood. Someone threw a wadded-up piece of paper at him while Richardson wrote the assignment on the board with her back to them. Of course she missed that.

Had Nick done it, she’d have turned and caught him the moment it left his hand.

Ignoring the insult, which he was pretty sure had come from one of Stone’s minions, and the fact that it completely ticked him off, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and made the Bataan Death March toward the office. Gah, could it be any farther? Could he dread it any worse?

Can I have one day at school where I’m not forced to the office? Just one? Really, is that asking too much?

His gut completely knotted, he pushed open the door and walked to the long light wood counter. The secretary, who was around his mother’s age, but nowhere near as attractive, gave him a smug lip curl. “Mr. Head wants to see you.”

Of course. Why else would he be here? Not like he was making a delivery.

Nick went for the door behind the counter that was slightly ajar and knocked on the fogged glass that gleamed with the new principal’s name on it.



RICHARD HEAD.

PRINCIPAL

“Come in.”

Nick pushed the door open wider so that he could enter the Chamber of Doom. It was even dark and gloomy inside. For some reason, the fluorescent lights in this room cast a grayish wash that hung over everything like a ghoulish pall.

“Close it behind you.”

Yeah, that tone said his butt was in for it. Nick obeyed, then went to take a seat in front of the dark wood desk.

Strange, all traces of Peters had been removed, and Head’s personal items were all in place as if he’d been principal here for years. It was kind of creepy when you thought about it. You got eaten by a coworker one day at work, and the next the world went on as if you’d never existed. No one even talked about Peters anymore.

He was completely erased. A shiver went down Nick’s spine. Even though Peters had been a jerk, it was sobering to realize how little the world cared once you were gone.

Meanwhile, here they were.…

A middle-aged man with a bald head, the new principal looked even more stern than Peters had. Did they send them to a special training camp to give them all that pompous, condescending twist to their mouths?

He glared at Nick over the rim of his brown glasses. “Do you know why you’re here?”

You needed somebody to kick, and I drew the lucky straw? He kept that belief to himself. “No, sir.”

“Think, Gautier. Think.”

I am the most unfortunate human ever born, and you guys like to screw with my head? Biting back that sarcasm was much easier said than done. “Sorry, sir. Not a clue.”

Head set a handheld Nintendo down on his desk. “Look familiar?”

Duh. What was he supposed to answer? Of course it did. Most of his classmates had one. They were common and unless decorated by the owner, ubiquitous.

Head’s smug glower intensified. “Cat got your tongue, boy?”

No, confusion had his tongue. He still had absolutely no idea what was going on. But before he could speak, a knock sounded on the door.

The new coach pushed it open. “Am I interrupting?”

“Yes.” Head’s tone was even colder than his grimace.

The coach ignored it. “Gautier. Glad you’re here. I was just about to track you down.” He came in and handed Nick his jersey.

Nick would be excited, but under the circumstances, he was going to wait to celebrate.

“You might want to hold off on doing that,” Head said in a dire tone.

The coach scowled. “Why?”

“I’m about to send this little punk to jail, and the last thing we need is another person in lockup wearing one of our school jerseys.”

Nick choked. Jail? For what? Breathing?

“What did he do?” the coach asked.

Yeah, what did I do?

“Stealing. This—” He held up the Nintendo. “—was found in his locker. It belongs to—”

“Kyl Poitiers. He loaned it to Nick in gym class.”

“What?”

Nick was as stunned as the principal, who mirrored the word that was screaming in his mind. No one had loaned him that, and he’d definitely not stolen it. But he knew better than to speak up until he understood what was going on. Anything can and will be used against you.

The coach gestured to Nick. “I saw Kyl give it to him.”

Head still refused to believe it. “You’re mistaken. The serial number’s on my list of stolen objects, and it belongs to Bryce Parkington.”

“And again, I know what I saw in class. If it’s stolen, Poitiers is framing Nick. But that’s a stretch. Are you sure the number’s correct?”

“Of course I’m sure. The number is right here.” Head compared the two numbers, then cursed under his breath. “Well, that’s odd. I swear the numbers matched earlier.”

The coach shrugged. “It’s an honest mistake. Happens to the best of us. Besides, those numbers are so small on the devices, it’s easy to misread them.” He gestured to Nick. “C’mon, Gautier. I’ll walk you back to class.”

Head continued to sputter as he went back and forth with the serial numbers, trying to make them match.

“Wait,” he said as they reached the door. He held the system out toward Nick. “You might as well take it back with you, since it’s not one of the stolen items.” Then his tone went sharp again. “And don’t let me catch you playing it in class or the hallway, or I’ll confiscate it.”

“Yes, sir.” Nick grabbed the handheld and made a quick getaway. He still had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t about to open his mouth and get himself into trouble now that he was clear. Especially since he was innocent of any wrongdoing.

As soon as they were outside the office and in the hallway away from anyone who might overhear them, the coach stopped him. “Bet you’re wondering what’s going on, aren’t you?”

“Lot of confused. Definitely.”

The coach took the Nintendo from Nick’s hand and toyed with it. “I did some digging into your school file. It’s actually quite impressive.”

Nick had a bad feeling he wasn’t talking about his grades or test scores. “How so?”

“You scored the highest for the entrance exam of any kid ever tested. You’re the only one who’s ever made a hundred on it and got all three of the bonus questions correct, too. Did you know that?”

All right. For once he was wrong. A wave of pride filled him. That was saying something, since this was one of the best schools in the country, never mind the state of Louisiana, and harder than even Ben Franklin High to get into. “No.” They’d told him he’d done really well and given him a full scholarship, but no one had ever told him that he’d scored perfect on it. Wow. No wonder his mom got so bent whenever she thought he was slacking off.

“But that wasn’t what I found the most fascinating. It’s your other record I want to talk to you about.”

His stomach shrank. Here it comes.…

Loser. Dork. Your family history blows. You have no hope for a future, so we might as well throw you out now, right into the gutter that spawned you. He’d heard it all more times than he could count and from more people than he could name. Peters in particular had taken a sadistic pleasure in letting him know that he had no future whatsoever.

“Last year alone,” the coach continued, “you were in thirty-five fights. Thirty-five. Kid, that has to be a record. When you take out the days you were absent, it’s like one every third day you’re in school. The fact that you’re still a student here, even with your exemplary test scores and grades, is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard of. I’ve taught at a lot of schools over the years and never have I seen anyone who was a worse troublemaker. Truly impressive.”

That annihilated every bit of pride Nick’d temporarily had. He knew it looked bad, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. He didn’t care when they insulted him, which was pretty much hourly, it was when they went after his mom that it was on like Donkey Kong. Unfortunately, Stone knew that, and so they relentlessly called his mom names and said horrifying things about her and her character. In spite of a few mistakes that everyone made, his mom was a saint, and he’d bust anyone who said differently—which apparently happened every third day he was in school.

Sighing, Nick held the jersey out. “Guess you want this back.”

The coach refused to take it. “No. I have another proposition for a boy with your unique … skills.”

Nick didn’t need his pendulum or his book to see where this was going. His gut said he wouldn’t like it, and when the coach spoke, he confirmed that suspicion. Loudly.

“I have a group of boys who do favors for me. I’d like for you to join our elite group.”

Oh yeah, right. No thank you. There were some groups he wanted no part of, and this sounded like one that needed to be at the top of his never list. “Dude, I don’t do nothing perverse. In fact—”

“Nothing like that, Nick.” He held the Nintendo up. “We procure things.”

No flippin’ way … The coach was part of that?

It wasn’t possible. Why would he do such a thing?

Then again, the thefts hadn’t started until the coach had come on board. Given that, it freakishly made sense. A supplemental income for an underpaid staffer. All the teachers he knew complained about their pay, and most looked for other ways to augment their income.

This was over the top, however.

“You steal,” Nick accused.

The coach screwed his face up. “That’s such an ugly word. We merely procure and borrow. After all, people never return what they borrow anyway, and the snobby rich kids here have so much, they don’t even appreciate it. Mummy and Daddy will replace their stuff without a second thought, and file claims with their insurance. It’s what it’s for, right? Think of it like Robin Hood. You’re alleviating the rich of wealth they don’t deserve and are giving it to those in need. Us.”

Nick shook his head at the manure the coach was spreading. Semantics couldn’t couch it. This was theft, pure and simple. There was no justifying it. Taking was taking, and it was wrong. His mother had raised him better than that. “Forget it. I’m not a thief.” He started to leave, but the coach stopped him.

“You will help us, Gautier. If you don’t, I’ll make sure the next item found in your locker carries a much longer jail sentence than this.” He wiggled the Nintendo in Nick’s face. “And with Principal Dick just itching to call the cops and have a scapegoat to placate the angry parent phone calls demanding he catch his thief, no one will mourn your sacrifice.”

Nick felt his panic rise. He knew it was the truth. The people at this school wouldn’t bat an eyelash to see him go and would think it was his just desserts to be brought down as a criminal. No one would ever believe he, the poorest kid in school, hadn’t been desperate enough to do it. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. Everyone here already thinks you’re a liar and a thief. Ninety percent of the students and a hundred percent of the faculty are convinced you cheated to get in. Given that, do you really think they’d believe you over me? After all, seeing is believing.”

Nick wanted to deny it, but he knew the truth. Many of his classmates hated him. And those who did would love to see him tossed out on his rump. To have him go to jail would be the bonus round.

That would kill his mother.

Don’t ever go to jail, Nicky. Whatever you do, don’t be like your father. I’ve worked too hard and sacrificed too much to see you come to that end. She said that to him so much that it kept a constant earworm going in his head.

“Why would you do this to me?”

The coach gave a cruel smirk. “Because you have the skills I need. I have a list of items and a very short time to gather them. If I fail, you won’t like what happens to you. That I promise. But if you help … I will reward you greatly.”

Why would he need Nick’s help to steal? “What? You got a gambling problem or something?”

“You’re a smart kid. This is one debt I have to pay and one I will do anything to meet. You help me and I’ll help you.”

And if he didn’t, the jerk would send him to juvie. He shuddered at the very thought.

Then an idea hit him. “What if I borrowed the money you need? You could pay back your loan sharks or bookie or whoever, and everyone would be happy.”

The coach shook his head. “My items are very specific. Money won’t do either of us any good, and it won’t pay my debt. Or keep you out of jail.”

“Look, I don’t want to be a thief.”

“Fine. As I said, borrow them. I don’t care how you get what I need so long as all the items are in my possession and they are the exact, and I do mean exact, items on my list from the people I tell you to take them from. You understand? There can be no substitutions whatsoever.”

Nick nodded. If he could borrow them, that wouldn’t be so bad. Except he knew the coach wouldn’t return them.…

Man, how did he get into these things?

The coach handed him a folded-up piece of paper. “You have six days, Gautier. After that, I’m going to make Mr. Head very happy where you’re concerned.”

Fabulous.

Nick watched as the coach left. His heart pounding, he unfolded the paper and read it. Stunned, he felt his jaw go slack over what the coach wanted him to take from his classmates. But one item in particular leapt out at him.

The coach wanted him to steal Nekoda’s solitaire diamond necklace.

No way. I won’t do it. He had no intention of hurting Kody. Not in any way or form. He wouldn’t do it.

The coach could roast, for all he cared.

And he held that resolve tight until his sixth period, when the police came and arrested Dave Smithfield out of their classroom.

Dave cried like a baby while they handcuffed him and read him his rights. “I don’t do drugs. I swear it! Someone planted that in my locker. I’m telling the truth. Why won’t you believe me? I didn’t do it. I didn’t!”

They refused to listen as they hauled him out of the school while Nick and the rest watched on in horror.

Until he met Coach Devus’s satisfied smirk and warning gaze. Then he knew the truth.

The coach had planted it in Dave’s locker and he’d probably called the cops, too.

And later that night, after football practice, while Nick watched the news at Kyrian’s house, he learned just how sick his new coach really was.

The woman commentator’s face was sad as she read from the teleprompter. “A tragedy tonight coming from juvenile lockup. A fourteen-year-old student at St. Richards High School, David James Smithfield, who was arrested earlier today after drugs were discovered in his locker at school, was found dead in his cell an hour ago. Authorities are awaiting the autopsy results, but at this point, they believe it to be a suicide.…”

Yeah, right. Nick had a really bad feeling about that as he pulled the pendulum from his pocket. Dave wasn’t the kind of person who’d kill himself. Not even after being arrested. He’d known the guy for years. Always happy-go-lucky, Dave had never been involved in anything immoral or illegal. And as small as their school was, Nick would know if he had.

His heart pounding, Nick opened his book on the desk and flipped to the pendulum page.

Holding the chain the way Grim had taught him, he concentrated on his question. “Was the coach responsible for Dave’s death?”

Without hesitation, it swung over yes. Forcefully. Then it started moving in a strange pattern he couldn’t identify. Unable to decipher it, he turned to a blank page and made sure that neither Rosa nor Kyrian saw him use it.

“All right, book. Tell me what’s going on.” He used the pendulum to prick his finger before he let three drops of blood fall.

It made bright splashes against the white before it began twisting and moving like an exotic snake. Nick watched as the words wrote themselves on his pages.



Easy come, easy go.

The future is sometimes hard to know.

But if you don’t follow through …

Your life you will soon bid adieu.

His stomach drew so tight, it could form a diamond. “Follow through what? What the coach wants or with my convictions?”

The page turned completely bright, blood red, then exploded. Literally. The words rearranged into more fluid script.



Through the fog light will shine.

Then the answer will be thine.

What the crap did that mean? Why did he even use this worthless thing?

Nick growled. “You stupid, flippin’ book. You’re not going to answer me, are you?”



You have the answer you have sought.

No matter what you do, you will be distraught.

Life is never easy, no matter what they say.

And every decision you must carefully weigh.

In the end, the consequences are yours and yours alone to face.

So think it through and be wary of the race.

What race?

Now he had a migraine from trying to decipher all that. But one thing kept chasing through his mind. One thing he had to have answered. “Did the coach kill Dave?”



That answer already came your way.

Asking again, the outcome won’t sway.

But, yes, the coach is not what he seems.

And you are at the heart of all his schemes.

That Nick understood all too well. He would become one of the coach’s tools. The very thought sickened him. He didn’t want to do this. “Is there any way to avoid stealing for him?”



Ask your heart what it wants.

And never fear other’s taunts.

The problem was, he didn’t fear anyone’s taunts. He’d been spoon-fed those since his birth. What he feared was his coach sending him to prison for most of his adult life.

Or worse, killing him like he’d done Dave.

With that thought came the memory of the vision he’d seen. The one of him lying dead while clutching Kody’s necklace.

The same necklace the coach wanted him to steal …

And Grim thought his precog was broken.