I wake with a sharp yelp as something hits the back of my head. In a panic, I realize that I’m sitting at my desk in the middle of Mrs. Dembo’s class. She pauses her lecture mid-sentence as everyone turns to stare at me. Did I really just yelp in the middle of class?
Barely concealed snickering spreads from the back of the room as Mrs. Dembo’s dark eyes latch onto me. I keep my head inches from the top of the desk. Teacher stares are the creepiest things ever. The longer they do it, the creepier it feels. This stare is like a marathon.
After thoroughly inspecting me, she throws a death glare at the gigglers in the back of the room and continues her lesson.
It’s not like she can blame me for falling asleep. After all, it’s her fault that I didn’t get any quality shut-eye last night. Her and the other teachers.
When Dembo’s not looking, I spin around to meet August Bergmann’s smirking face. He sits at the desk behind me, a rubber band spinning around his finger. Congratulations, moron. You managed to humiliate me for the umpteenth time.
“No girls around to protect you now,” he whispers.
I glare at him, though it’s not like I’m gonna do anything. I’d just get in trouble. After all, he’s not the one who fell asleep in the middle of class. He’s not the one all the teachers are secretly watching. “Leave me alone.”
He shoots me an I’m-so-much-better-than-you-times-a-million look. “You and me Fisher, tonight outside the rec room.”
“Wait,” I smirk, “you asking me out on a date?”
“You come alone,” he sneers. “We’ll see how tough you are without Rodriguez there to save you.”
I turn and lay my head on the desk. It’s the first time the two of us agree on something. Eva Rodriguez is officially banned from being my friend, if she ever was in the first place.
They’ve got thirty of us crammed in here. Normally we’re in smaller pull-out groups, spread around the Academy, but today we have to look all prestigious for Visitation. That’s why I’m wearing this irritating, too-tight-in-the-shoulders suit and the whole classroom’s decorated with artsy posters and fake writing assignments and schedules. All of us kids are crammed onto the sixth floor while the adult agents get to lounge around in the lower levels. Our visitors won’t see any more of the Academy than Alkine wants. Of course the way I’m feeling right now, I might just jump on my desk and holler like a madman. “We steal Pearls from the government, kids! Come join our top secret organization-so secret that the teachers will lie to you, too!”
That’d show Alkine.
I fight to keep my eyes open. It gets harder with each endless word that spills from Dembo’s mouth.
“Please open your textbooks to page 276,” she says.
I groan, lifting the heavy textbook from under my desk and halfheartedly flipping through the pages. It’s ridiculous. We never use textbooks, especially ones about “the use of predicate logic.” As far as I know, the Academy’s only got one set of books for each class, dragged out unceremoniously each Visitation Day.
Eva-a.k.a. traitor friend-sits to the side of me, diligently running her fingers through the pages of her textbook. She stops only to flash me quick, disapproving glances as if to say, “Can’t you just try, Jesse Fisher?”
After what Avery and I found out last night, I’m not sure I see the point in trying to be the perfect Skyship student.
Avery met me outside my room this morning, still mass apologetic for dragging me up into the vent. I told her I wasn’t mad. Not at her.
“Jesse.” Mrs. Dembo shifts her attention straight to me. “Care to start us off?”
I glance over to Eva’s book to see what page we’re on before looking up to Mrs. Dembo.
She frowns. “The text, Jesse. Read us a few paragraphs aloud.”
I nod through clenched teeth. We don’t usually do a lot of reading out loud here, especially in classes with this many people. With August sitting right behind me it’s just asking for trouble.
I labor through, clearing the first paragraph well enough, understanding next to nothing. But just as I’m starting to feel pretty confident, the words run together on the page. I stumble on the next sentence. August chuckles.
My vision blurs. I blink, shaking my head and trying again.
The words won’t come out.
Then something explodes inside my chest. Like, literally, explodes.
The jolt of pain stops me cold. I freeze, staring at the front of the room, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Lightning bolts spread from my chest, coursing through my body with the force of an electric chair.
“Jesse?” Mrs. Dembo approaches me. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
I can’t speak. I close my eyes and focus on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I’ve gotta get out of here-escape the pain.
Inhale. Exhale.
I try to stand, but topple back onto my seat. The electricity turns mass cold, like I’ve been shot with a freeze ray.
“Jesse!” Mrs. Dembo rushes to my side, kneeling beside me. The room falls silent. Every last eye is focused on me.
I start to shake. So cold.
“Somebody call the medical staff,” Mrs. Dembo shouts. Eva bolts from her desk and runs to the door, ripping a communicator from the wall.
“Get it out,” I mutter, too quiet for anyone but Dembo to hear. There’s a polar icecap growing in my stomach. Before too long I’m gonna be frozen from the inside out.
She grabs my wrist. “Get what out? What’s happening, Jesse?”
I clutch my chest, mouth open.
Mrs. Dembo squeezes my arm. “Tell me what’s happening.”
I shake my head. Inhale. Exhale. All I can do is breathe and hope the pain goes away.
Then, relief. My arm goes limp in Dembo’s grip. As suddenly as it had started, the insanity snaps away. My body temperature stabilizes. The shaking stops.
Mrs. Dembo lets go and motions for Eva to put the communicator back. I sit up in my desk. The entire class crowds around me. Nobody says a word.
My breathing’s staggered. I keep my eyes peeled on the front of the room, wishing I could disappear.
“What was that about, Jesse?” Mrs. Dembo whispers.
I rub my chest, debating what to tell her. If I say what really happened she’ll tell Alkine, and who knows what he’ll do. So I lie.
“I’m fine,” I mumble. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“You don’t look fine,” she responds. “I think we should send you to the infirmary.”
“No.” I meet her eyes, pleading. “No, I’m good.”
She sighs, clearly not buying it. She stares at me another moment before speaking. “Okay, here’s our deal, then. You stay here for now, but if you start feeling ill it’s straight to the medics. And I’m going to march you down there as soon as our visitors leave.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Can I finish up the reading, then?”
She shoots me one final, disapproving glance and stands to motion for the rest of the class to get back to their books.
I continue the paragraph, making sure not to look at a single person in the room. Nobody pays attention to the words coming out of my mouth. I feel their eyes on me. I hear the whispers. I’m a walking canister of toxic waste. Even August Bergmann won’t dare hit me with a rubber band now.