Sherrilyn Kenyon - Invincible

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?”