Erica’s lip quivered as she reached out with cupped hands. “Please, Tammy?”
“Hey, your momma taught you the magic word.” Tammy flipped the baggy at Erica. It bounced off her chest and landed on the floor.
“Erica, no!” a voice shouted from across the room. A skinny girl I knew only as Tish stood beside the bench in the next row of lockers. She had pasty white skin, unnaturally black hair, and a dozen silver hoops, balls, and figurines sticking out of various parts of her face. It looked positively painful. “You’re dealing?” she shrieked at Angel. “What’s your problem? I thought you guys didn’t do drugs.”
Tammy Angel smiled and pulled another baggie from her pocket. “I don’t. These are supplements. All natural. Maybe you could use a hit.”
“I heard what they said at the assembly. That stuff’s dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as, oh, say, not knowing your place.” Tammy strolled toward the black-haired girl, smiling sweetly. “Do we need a lesson in the social graces?”
Code for don’t make me call my dogs. Angel was a master manipulator who never did her own dirty work. She preferred subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) intimidation. Her father was an insanely powerful lawyer who protected her the way Mason’s dad protected him. But her high-society act was just a front.
It dawned on me that Tammy might know what was going on with Mason. I had a sudden urge to see what was on her so-called mind. Somewhere in that gully of emptiness and decay, I might find something useful. I reached into my backpack and drew my Amplifier.
Fear me, I thought, and the image of a short spear flashed into my mind. Psychic energy ripped through my body. My hair crackled with static and poofed like I had entered a massive electrical field. Which was why I never left home without my trusty brush.
Mental force rampaged down my arm, into my hand, through my fingertips. Sparks jumped to the Amplifier’s electrodes and red mist exploded silently from the tip, forming a short pointed dart. I took a step toward Tammy, holding the dart behind my back, but immediately relaxed and extinguished my weapon. What was I thinking? Using Psi Weapons while unmasked was a sure way to bring the Knights to my doorstep. Knights are as sensitive to the use of Psi Weapons as Obi Wan is to disturbances in the Force.
“No, please,” Tish gasped. “I misunderstood. I didn’t see anything.”
“How convincing,” Tammy said, rolling her eyes. “So happy it was a simple mistake. Still, we must learn our position in this wide, wide world, mustn’t we?” Tammy turned and called daintily through cupped hands, “Girls! Cleanup in aisle five.”
They rounded the lockers like they were walking down a runway—Boot Millner, a stocky blond beauty queen wannabe, top-notch runner and too-cool-for-school jerk, whom I’d had the displeasure of knowing since seventh grade; and Agatha Chew, captain of the girls track team, a formerly decent human recently converted to the dark side. The Red Team. Tammy’s venomous minions.
“Hey, Tam,” Boot said. “What’cha got goin’ here?”
“Outpatient surgery.” Tammy smiled sadistically, snapped her fingers, and pointed at Tish.
Boot circled Tish like a vulture, then stopped behind her, grabbing Tish by both wrists and pinning them behind her back. “The things we must do to keep order. Honestly, Tammy, I don’t know how you stay so dedicated. You’re a saint.”
Angel closed her eyes and clasped her hands like she was praying. “For the greater good.”
“Please, don’t.” Tish struggled helplessly against Boot’s grip.
Agatha laughed. “You may proceed, Dr. Angel.”
“So many procedures, so little time.” Tammy popped open her locker and gazed inside. “Hmmm, I believe this is suitable, medically speaking. Mummy’s Magic Mix—concentrated garlic sauce, a touch of curry, and a very large yellow onion, shaken not stirred.”
The other girls laughed when Tammy pulled out the hermetically sealed, explosion-proof squeeze bottle that everyone knew housed her favorite torture device. According to Kathryn, the Angel household had some unique discipline tactics. Growing up, Tammy was never grounded when she was bad (which I have to believe was daily). Instead, she was taken shopping and forced to watch while her mother bought herself expensive gifts with Tammy’s allowance. And while Tammy thrived on foul deeds, she never used foul language. Whereas normal kids got their mouths washed out with soap, the Angel kids got the Magic Mix.
Tammy held the container at arm’s length, squeezed ever so slightly, and shot a stream of brownish goo onto the floor. “Locked and loaded,” she said. A stench I can’t even begin to describe saturated the air. Greensburg’s sewage treatment plant smelled like buttercups compared to that. Tish’s eyes grew wide and teary as Tammy said, “Open wide!”