“Not a pretty one. Maybe I should ask you out instead.”
“Better stick to something you have a chance of success with.”
“You won’t tell me no.” Mason raised an eyebrow. “Ever been in a fight in school?”
“Uh, not really.” I’d been in a gazillion battles during practice sessions at the Academy. I had even fought against a real bad guy, which didn’t turn out so well. But never in school. Never unmasked. Maybe I needed to rethink my strategy. If the Knights figured out that I was a Psi Fighter because I kicked Mason’s wombat butt, they’d raid the Academy and murder everyone, and I’d never hear the end of it.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let Mason rearrange my hair just a teensy bit. Humiliation is supposed to be good for the soul. I closed my eyes as Mason’s grimy fingers cupped my face, and found myself wondering—does he really think I’m pretty? Ew!
Mason’s hands slid gently up my cheeks, lifting my hair on both sides. I shivered. Spiders crawling up my face could not have grossed me out more.
“Nice ears,” he said softly.
“Back off, Mason,” a quiet voice warned. I jumped. A muscular boy stood next to me. Kathryn squeezed beside him. He was smaller than Mason, but Mason dropped my hair and backed away. His cocky expression melted like chocolate in a blast furnace.
“Hey, Egon,” Mason said. “What up?”
Egon said nothing. He simply stared at Mason, expressionless.
Mason began bobbing his head like an over-caffeinated pigeon. “Just havin’ fun. You know I like to have fun.”
“Have it somewhere else,” Egon whispered.
Mason swallowed. His Grinchy grin disappeared.
Egon said nothing.
Mason turned slowly and loped down the hall, not looking back. Relief swept me. My secret was safe. My hair was happily unbunned. The day was plodding along nicely.
“Toodles, Peroxide,” Mason hollered as he disappeared around the corner. “Call me!”
“It’s not bleached,” I muttered, glaring at the floor. What a jerk. One day, Mason would get what he had coming to him. I would pound him into paste. I would hit him so hard he’d become a vegetarian. I’d batter him so bad I’d be cited for cruelty to wombats. I turned to tell Kathryn what would happen if I ever met Mason when I was masked, and found myself staring up into Egon’s mesmerizing green eyes.
Suddenly, my feet were very large and my knees very knobby. My heart stopped working, and I could feel the beginnings of rigor mortis setting in. “I, umm…thank you,” I mumbled, slouching badly.
Egon’s eyes smiled at me and he nodded. “See ya.” He gave me a little two-fingered wave that made me tingle, then simply floated away, riding off into the desert sun that was setting in my frazzled brain. I suddenly had to pee really badly.
Kathryn squealed, “Omigosh, did you see the way he checked you out?”
“Who is he?” I felt my mouth for slobber. “He is absolutely gorgeous…”
“And famous,” Kathryn said. “Egon Demiurge is an intergalactic Mixed Martial Arts champion or something. Apparently he just moved here to train. They say he’s so good, they’re making it an Olympic sport just for him. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, will mess with him in this school. I’ll bet he’d give you a workout.”
“Oh, I could never fight him,” I whispered, staring absently down the hall.
“I wasn’t talking about fighting,” Kathryn said, grinning. “He’s a senior, you know.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Of all my friends, Kathryn was the first to take it to the gutter.
“Thanks,” a small voice said from behind me. I turned and found myself eye to eye with a thoroughly red-faced Bobby Blys.
“Hey, Bobby.”
“Thanks,” he repeated.
“No problem. Mason’s such a jerk. What was that all about?”
“Hi-eeeeee, Bobby,” Kathryn squealed, hipping me out of the way. I grunted.
“Oh, hi, Kitty,” Bobby said quietly, blushing like a bruised strawberry.
“That was so brave, Bobby!” Kathryn smiled as though her happy sauce had kicked into high gear.
“Don’t see what’s so brave about getting smacked around by a yeti.” Bobby rubbed the rapidly swelling lump on his head.
“Actually, Mason’s a wombat,” I told him. “Although, now that you mention it, he is abominable.”
Kathryn elbowed me in the ribs and giggled. “Oh, don’t you just adore Bobby’s sense of humor?”
“So, what’s up with Mason?” I asked Bobby, rubbing my ribs.
He looked away. “Nothing, I…quit the Class Project. He’s mad.”