James Patterson: Dangerous Days of Daniel X

Great. Now my biggest enemies were parenting me. Guess that’s what can happen when you’re all alone in the world.

I DIDN’T SLEEP very well that night, barely an hour. No big surprise there, I guess. Who needs sleep anyway?

It was a quarter to eight the next morning when I reached Glendale High School. I wanted to try to blend into the community, and especially avoid a truant squad run-in like the one in Portland. So I decided I’d better at least sign up for school.

Plus, I’m sure I didn’t want to admit it then, but maybe The Prayer’s words in my dream were starting to get to me. Until I come for you.

I stopped by the front steps, taking in the swirl of relatively carefree students unloading from the buses and minivans. I was a little skittish, but also excited at the thought of hanging out with people my own age.

I hadn’t been to high school in, well, ever, actually.

“Hi, I’m Daniel Hopper,” I said to the secretary behind the counter in the main office. “My mom said she faxed over my paperwork. Is it okay?”

The middle-aged woman checked a clipboard on the desk behind her.

“Oh, yes. Here you are, Daniel. Did you bring documentation from your last school?”

Not likely. “Right here,” I said, handing over a forged birth certificate and Social Security card. The previous records I’d invented were from a fictitious private school in Haneyville, Kentucky.

“Welcome to Glendale High, Daniel,” she said, pointing at a door beside her. “Go inside and see Vice Principal Marshman. He’ll help you schedule your classes.”

I THANKED THE SECRETARY and opened the vice principal’s door in a cautious, respectful way. Mr. Marshman was a wide, flabby, middle-aged fellow, and the school’s head football coach, I gathered from the framed articles covering the wall behind his wrecking ball of a head. He was on the phone when I entered. “I know you booked the bus for the debating team, Leopoldo. But how many times are my guys going to get the chance to go to UCLA and watch the Bruins practice? I gotta go. End of debate. You lose.”

“Hi, I’m -” I started as he hung up the phone with a bang.

“I know exactly who you are, son,” the vice principal said. “Around here, students speak to staff, and especially me, only when spoken to. Let me see your records.”

I handed them over. “Sure.”

“Not one sport?” he said with a shake of his head. “I see you did get perfect attendance. I bet they gave you a shiny blue ribbon and everything back in Kentucky,” he said, laying on the sarcasm.

Was it me, or did the vice principal have some kind of anger management issue? I let out a breath, trying not to take his attitude personally. I like to give everybody a second chance.

“You do well academically,” he said with a snort. “What’s your favorite subject?”

Since I had the encyclopedic power to telepathically access human knowledge, that was a tough call. I noticed Civil War books on a shelf behind his desk.

“ History, sir,” I said.

He turned and stared at the Civil War books on his shelf, then back at me with a who-do-you-think-you’re-fooling look.

“What a coincidence,” he said, letting my records drop to the desk.

I glanced out the window behind him. Under a pure blue sky, palm trees were softly swaying in the seventy-two-degree Southern California breeze.

And I chose to attend school why again?

“Okay, history buff. I’ll bump you into first-period Advanced Social Studies. The one I teach,” he said, standing, as the bell rang.

Call me overly paranoid, but I wondered if maybe Mr. Marshman was somewhere on my List.

SO THIS WAS HIGH SCHOOL-not too bad, not too good, could have been a lot more stimulating. I was coming out of bio lab, my last class of the day, when I brushed against a skinny freshman hurrying down the hall. He looked nervous and scared, and I felt kind of bad for the guy.

Then I heard his thoughts in my head. Ugh. My sneakers are so six months ago. Everybody’s checking out my shoes. Everybody’s looking at me! Don’t look at me. Please!

I shook my head like a swimmer trying to get water out of his ears. I guess I was tired and my telepathic mental filters were shot. The thoughts of the students swirling around in the corridor were leaking into my head.

Well, well. Amanda’s definitely flirting with me, I overheard a good-looking jock in a football jacket think as he winked at a pretty girl. Back at you, baby.

I quickened my pace, trying to get out of there. I can promise you that knowing everybody’s secrets is nowhere near as cool as it sounds.

First day’s over, and I haven’t even talked to anybody, I suddenly heard in my head, and it wasn’t my own voice. I don’t want to do this anymore. I hate this school.

I stopped suddenly, looking around to see whose thoughts I’d just intercepted.

I spotted a tall, black-haired girl trying to lift a bulky backpack while also balancing a clarinet case. She turned around and I saw her face.

What felt like an invisible wall toppled over on me. She was really cute. Her eyes were amazing. So why was she so sad?

“Hi,” I said, stepping in her direction. “Sorry to bother you. Uhmm, could you tell me where the library is?”

“No idea,” she said quietly as she averted her eyes from mine. “I’m new here.”

I shrugged. “So am I. Say, could I give you a hand with those books? I’m Daniel. Not that you asked.”

She actually smiled, a half smile anyway. “I’m Phoebe Cook,” she said. Those eyes of hers were deep blue, flecked with silver. Gorgeous-and friendly. “So do you have a last name too, Daniel?”

I paused. Of course, I had a fake last name, but it never really feels like me somehow. It felt a little strange to say it to someone as genuine as Phoebe.

“Daniel Hopper.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel Hopper. I actually could use some help. Just to get my locker back open,” Phoebe said. “Frankly, I don’t know if I can lug all these books home.”

I slid her bag off the floor and onto my shoulder.

“You’re in luck,” I said. “Lugging is one of my better talents.”

She smiled again. “I thought you were looking for the library, Daniel.”

She had me there. “I got a better offer, I guess.”

“I guess you did. Well, let’s see how you lug.”

I WALKED PHOEBE all the way home, and I enjoyed every second of it. She lived on South Cedar, about ten blocks from the high school. Her father was a computer salesman, and she told me they moved around a lot.

“Too much,” said Phoebe with a wistful look that got to me. One of the really nice things about her-she was practically unconscious about how pretty she was. I completely understood her feeling about moving.

“My family moves a lot too,” I said. “They’re kind of free spirits.” Definitely.

Daniel is gorgeous! I wonder if he would maybe ask me out? she thought as we stopped in front of her house. It’sokay, Daniel. Go for it, I heard Phoebe thinking. Wishing… encouraging.

I smiled, and felt a little light-headed, actually. News flash: I had never had a date with a human girl. So I’d never actually asked a girl out before. But Phoebe seemed so regular and nice, plus I’d just read her mind and she was interested in me. Still, I was afraid.

“Why don’t we go to a movie, or maybe explore Glendale sometime?” I finally blurted out. Our hands grazed as I gave her back her bag.