Infinity (Chronicles of Nick #1)
Page 2That was what mattered most. He'd much rather have brains than money.
Though right now, a rocket launcher might be nice too. He just couldn't say that out loud without the faculty calling the cops on his having "inappropriate" thoughts.
His bravado lasted until he reached his locker, where Stone and crew were loitering.
Great, just great. Couldn't they pick someone else to stalk?
Stone Blakemoor was the kind of creep who gave jocks a bad name. They weren't all like that and he knew it. Nick had several friends who were on the football team—starters, no less, not seat warmers like Stone.
Still, when you thought of an arrogant jock-rock, Stone was aptly named. It was definitely a self-fulfilling moniker his parents had labeled him with. Guess his mom had known while he was in the womb that she was going to birth a flaming moron.
Stone snorted as Nick stopped beside his group to open his locker. "Hey, Gautier? I saw your mom naked last night —shaking her butt in my dad's face so that he'd put a dollar in her G-string. He got a good feel of her too. Said she's got a nice set of—"
Before he could think better of it, Nick swiped him upside the head with his backpack as hard as he could.
And then it was on like Donkey Kong.
"Fight!" someone shouted while Nick wrapped Stone in a headlock and pounded him.
A crowd gathered round, chanting, "Fight, fight, fight."
Somehow Stone escaped his hold and hit him so hard in the sternum it took the breath from him. Dang, he was a lot stronger than he looked. He hit like a jackhammer.
Furious, Nick started for him, only to find one of the teachers suddenly between them.
Ms. Pantall.
The sight of her petite form calmed him instantly. He wasn't about to hit an innocent person, especially not a woman. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed down the hall. "To the office, Gautier. Now!"
Cursing under his breath, Nick picked his backpack up from the tiled beige floor and glared at Stone, who at least had a busted lip.
So much for not getting into trouble.
But what was he supposed to do? Let the weasel scum insult his mom?
Disgusted, he entered the office and sat in the corner chair outside the principal's door. Why wasn't there an undo button for life?
"Excuse me?"
Nick looked up at the softest, sweetest voice he'd ever heard. His stomach hit the ground.
Dressed all in pink, she was gorgeous, with silky brown hair and green eyes that practically glowed.
Oh. My. God.
Nick wanted to speak but all he could do was try not to drool on her.
She held her hand out to him. "I'm Nekoda Kennedy, but most people call me Kody. I'm new to the school and kind of nervous. They told me to wait here, then there was a fight and they haven't come back and ... I'm sorry, I babble when I'm nervous."
"Nick. Nick Gautier." He cringed as he realized how stupid he sounded and how behind he was on her conversation.
I am so in love with you____
Get a grip, Nick. Get a grip____
"So, have you been going here long?" Kody asked.
Work, tongue. Work. He finally choked an answer out. "Three years."
"You like it?"
Nick's gaze went to Stone and the others heading into the office. "Not today, I don't."
She opened her mouth to speak, but Stone and crew surrounded her.
"Hey, baby." Stone flashed her a cheesy grin. "You new meat?"
Kody grimaced and sidestepped them. "Get away from me, you animals. You smell." She raked a repugnant stare over Stone's body and curled her lip. "Aren't you a little old for your mom to be picking out your clothes for you? Really? Shopping at the Children's Place at your age? I'm sure there's some third-grader dying to know who bought the last navy I-sore shirt."
Nick bit back a laugh. Yeah, he really, really liked her.
She went to stand by Nick and put her back against the wall so that she could keep an eye on Stone. "Sorry we got interrupted."
Stone made a sound like he was about to vomit. "Why are you talking to the King Loser Dork? You want to talk about ugly? Look at what he's wearing."
Nick cringed as Kody examined the sleeve of his shirt.
"I like a man who takes fashion chances. It's the mark of someone who lives by his own code. A rebel." She cast a biting glare at Stone. "A real lone wolf is a lot sexier than a pack animal who follows orders and can't have an opinion unless someone else gives it to him."
"Oooo," Stone's friends said in unison as she got the better of him.
"Shut up!" Stone shoved at them. "No one asked you for your opinions."
"Nekoda?" the secretary called. "We need to finish with your schedule."
Kody gave Nick a last smile. "I'm in ninth grade." "Me too."
Her smile widened. "Hope we have some classes together. Nice meeting you, Nick." She made sure to step on Stone's foot as she walked past him.
Stone yelped and mumbled an insult for her under his breath. Then he and his three friends sat down in the chairs that were opposite Nick's.
Ms. Pantall walked past them to go talk to Mr. Peters.
They're going to cream me over this....
As soon as she was gone, Stone tossed a wadded-up piece of paper at him. "Where did you get that shirt, Gautier? Goodwill or did you find it in a Dumpster? Nah, I bet you rolled a hobo for it. I know you people couldn't afford even something that tacky."
Nick refused to rise to the bait this time. Besides, he could handle insults directed at him. It was the ones against his mom that elevated him to fighting mad.
And this was why most private schools had uniforms. But Stone didn't want to wear one and since his father all but owned the school. .
Nick got to be mocked for the clothes his mom thought were respectable. Why dont you ever listen to me, Mom? Just once...
Nick flipped him off. ... At the same exact moment Peters came out and saw him.
Lady Luck is definitely on vacation today.
"Gautier," Peters growled. "Get in here. Now!"
With a heavy sigh, Nick got up and went inside the office he knew as well as his own home. Peters stayed outside, no doubt talking to Stone while he was forced to wait. He took the chair to the right and sat there, staring at the pictures of Peters's wife and kids. They had a nice house with a yard, and in one photo his daughters played with a white puppy.
Nick stared at them. What would it be like to live that way? He'd always wanted a dog, but since they could barely afford to feed themselves, a pooch was out of the question. Not to mention their landlord would die if they had one in their rented condo even though there wasn't much more damage a dog could do to the run-down shack.
After a few minutes, Peters came in and went to his desk. Without a word, he picked up the phone. Nick panicked. "What are you doing?" "I'm calling your mother."
Terror ripped through him. "Please, Mr. Peters, don't do that. She had to work a double shift last night and tonight too. She's only going to get about four hours of sleep today and I don't want to worry her about nothing." Not to mention she'd beat his butt royally for this.
He dialed the number anyway.
Nick ground his teeth as anger and fear whipped through his entire being.
"Miss Gautier?" Could there be any more loathing in his tone? And did he always have to stress the fact that his mom had never married? That always embarrassed her to death. "I wanted to let you know that Nick is being suspended from school for the rest of the week."
His stomach hit the floor. His mom was going to kill him when he got home. Why couldn't Peters just shoot him and put him out of his misery?
Peters glared mercilessly at him. "No, he was fighting again, and I'm sick of his thinking he can come in here and attack decent people anytime he feels like it for no apparent reason. He has to learn to control his temper. Honestly, I'm tempted to call the police. In my opinion, he should be sent to public school where they can handle troubled kids like him. I've said it before and I'll say it again. He doesn't belong here."
Nick died a little with every word. Kids like him...
He zoned out so that he wouldn't have to hear the rest of Peters's tirade about how worthless he was. He already knew the truth in his heart. The last thing he needed was someone else voicing it.
After a few minutes, Peters hung up the phone.
Nick gave him a sullen stare. "I didn't start it."
Peters curled his lip. "That's not what the others said. Who am I supposed to believe, Gautier? A hoodlum like you or four honor students?"
He was supposed to believe the one telling the truth, which happened to be the hoodlum. "He insulted my mother."
"That's no excuse for violence."
That went down his spine like a shredder. The sanctimonious pig—Nick couldn't let that go unanswered. "Really? Well, you know, Mr. Peters, I saw your mom naked last night and for an old broad, she has really nice—"
"How dare you!" he shouted, coming to his feet to grab Nick up by his shirt. "You foul-mouthed little—"
"I thought you said insulting your mom was no excuse for violence."
Peters trembled as rage mottled his skin. His grip tightened and a vein throbbed in his temple. "My mother isn't a Bourbon Street stripper. She's a good, God-fearing woman." He shoved Nick away from him. "Get your things and get out."
God-fearing, huh? Strange how Nick and his mom went to mass every Sunday and at least twice during the week and the only time he ever saw Peters or his mom there was on holidays.
Yeah .
Hypocrite to the core. He despised people like Peters.
Just like a criminal.
Might as well get used to it. Some things ran in the blood. At least he's not handcuffing me.
Yet.
Hanging his head low, he tried not to look at anyone as the other students sniggered and whispered about him. "That's what happens when you come from trash." "I hope they don't let him back in." "Serves him right."
Nick ground his teeth in anger as he neared his locker and reached for the combination lock.
Brynna Addams was pulling her books out, two doors down. Tall with dark brown hair, she was very pretty and one of the few people who hung with Stone and crew that Nick could stand.
She paused to look at them with a frown that only deepened when she saw the guard with him. "What's up, Nick?"
"Got suspended." He paused before he swallowed his pride. Again. "Could I ask a favor?"
She didn't hesitate. "Sure."
"Could you get my assignments so that I don't fall behind?"
"Absolutely. You want me to e-mail them to you?"
And I stupidly thought I couldnt feel any worse. "Don't have a computer at home."
Her cheeks darkened. "Sorry. Um, where do you need me to take them?"
Nick was grateful she was decent—unlike the rest of the jerks she ran with. "I'll come by your house after school and get it."
She wrote down her address while he pulled all of his books out. "I'll be home about four."
"Thanks, Brynna. I really appreciate it." He tucked the paper in his back pocket, then allowed the security guard to escort him off campus.
Heartsick over having to face his mother, he made his way back home to their side of the ghetto and dreaded every step that took him closer to his door.
Inside their crappy house, his mother was waiting on him with a stern frown on her face. Dressed in a threadbare pink robe, she looked about as tired and ticked off as he'd ever seen her.
He dropped his backpack to the floor. "You should be asleep, Mom."
Her eyes cut him to the quick and made him feel even lower than Peters had. "How can I sleep when my boy's been thrown out of school for fighting? You of all people know how hard it is for me to keep you there. How much money it takes. What I have to do to pay for your books and lunches. Why would you be so stupid as to throw this chance away? What were you thinking?"
Nick didn't say anything because the truth would kill her and he didn't want her to feel as bad as he did when there was nothing she could do about it.
I'm the man of the family. It was his job to protect her. It was all he knew.
Take care of your mom, boy, or youll answer to me. You lip off to her and Ill cut out your tongue. You make her cry and Ill kill you myself. His father was pretty worthless, but the one thing about him was that he made good on his threats. All of them. And since he'd already killed twelve people, Nick figured he wouldn't think twice about killing him either. Especially since his father had no great love of him.