Normally, I wouldn’t take stock in what ateenage boy said about slicing up action heroes from the movies,but there was something serious in Jericho’s voice—violent andreal. As the video ended, the sub left her desk to hand out theworksheets that went with the video. Jericho made his way to herdesk and asked if he could borrow a pen. She told him he could. Iwatched him intently. There was something in his eye, a mischievouslight that held my attention. The rest of the class talked orpassed the papers to the person behind them. Jericho grabbed a penand dropped it. He leaned down behind the desk to retrieve the penand when he stood back up, a brief look of triumph crossed hisface. He made his way back to his seat sans a pen.
The sub finished passing out the papers andsat back down. As she did, the office chair fell back onto thefloor, sending her feet flying up into the air and her headcrashing into the wall. While the rest of the class laughed,Jericho rushed to her, helping her get up and fixing the chair forher. She thanked him profusely and rubbed at her head. Heat searedmy gut. He had engineered that whole scenario. Why? Why would heput her in danger and then come to her aid, acting the hero? Istared at the satisfied look on his face, and I watched as thegirls in the class stared at him, admiring his very being.
Jeremy was right about this guy. There wassomething disturbing going on. First the homeless man, and thenthis strange display. And yet, he was class president—tréspopulaire, as Halluis had put it. It was like he had a splitpersonality. He was scary. That was all there was to it.
As for Mikado, there had been someinteresting things in his file. He never got in anyone’s way andtended to keep a low profile, except at his martial arts lessonsevery day after school. I figured that was the “nasty stuff” Jeremyhad mentioned. He was one powerful fighter. The file said he couldtake down three opponents without much effort, and that it lookedlike he could have taken down a couple more before having tobreathe hard. As I watched him in class, I noticed that sameinhuman stillness that had caught my attention the night they’dstolen the S63. He reminded me of a panther, crouched and waitingto strike. It made me shudder inwardly.
***
My first opportunity to make contact with mytargets was at lunch. I scanned the cafeteria, quickly finding thefive kids I had identified from S-Dub’s car theft training. None ofthem sat with each other except for two, the most unlikely girls Ithought I would find in auto engineering class. In my mind, Ipictured manly girls, or at least ones who wore ties and sternfaces, and stiff, straight-laced boys who lacked imagination as thepreferred type for auto engineering. So much for stereotypes. Theone girl had all pointy features: a pointy chin, a pointy nose,pointy ears, and even her head seemed a bit pointy. If anyone couldhave been an elf masquerading as a human, it was this girl. Eventhe odd shade of her green eyes against her dark skin made her seemotherworldly. They were a bit too clear and bright. Her friend wasalso small in build, but much rounder. I guess you’d call the shapeof her face a heart shape. Her large, sullen, gray eyes betrayed noemotion, and her cheeks were puffy and rosy.
I headed for their table, my sack lunch inhand. Both sat eating without speaking. When I plopped down next tothem, they didn’t even look up. With their heads angled down, theyate their school lunch voraciously, like they never got to eat.
I checked out their clothes and saw thetelltale signs of poverty. Their uniforms were dingy, slightlyfraying, and a bit thin. These girls were scholarship girls forsure. And I was Amber Smith, a scholarship girl, too. That meantthese girls were smart, or they wouldn’t be here. I wondered whatS-Dub had promised them to get them into early-morning auto classfor car thieves. It had to be money related. I wondered if he’dinvite me. Maybe he targeted scholarship kids. Then I thought ofJericho, who was extremely well-off. Why had Shareweather targetedhim?
“Hi!” I said, not wanting to waste anytime.
Neither said a word.
“I’m Amber. I just moved here and—”
Hands pushed firmly on my shoulders. “I’vebeen looking all over for you,” a familiar voice said, sendingchills of revulsion down my spine. “I didn’t expect you to besitting with the riff-raff, though.”
“Hey,” I said, standing up and facinghim—Viktor. “You should apologize to…” I realized I didn’t knowtheir names and stuttered, “tttheese fine young women. I don’t seeany riff-raff.”
With eyes the size of apricots, he said,“Are you blind?”
The boldness and utter meanness of hisquestion made me ball up my fists.
“Look, Viktor.” I took a step away from thetable and poked him in the chest with my index finger over and overagain while I spoke. “I want you to leave, and I wouldn’t mindnever seeing your ugly mug again.” He was anything but ugly, but Iwas referring to his insides.
He threw his arms in the air like he wasbeing held up at gunpoint and said, “No problem, sweet thing. Justtrying to help the new girl out.” He had this slight accent to someof his words, and I wondered where he was from. His head madesweeping motions from side to side, checking to see who