Psi Another Day (Psi Fighter Academy #1)

“I was—”

“Oh, I guess you were trippin’ a little, huh? Yeah, knocked him cold. Hit him three times—bam bam bam! He never saw her move. He was so sore the next day he could hardly walk. I don’t mess with her anymore. Glad you’re collecting for me. I don’t want to get hit like that again. Not by a girl.”

“Chuckie…three times?” Rubric gaped at me.

“I only hit him twice,” I said.

“Only twice!” Mason shouted. “ And you did that much damage? Impressive! Okay, Artsy, give me my money, I gotta get to class.”

Rubric looked at Mason’s cast, then his bandaged face. “Did she do that to you?”

“Cough up, dude, I’m a busy man.”

“I’ll, uh…” The color drained from Rubric’s face, and he began backing away. “I’ll leave it at the Shadow Passage tonight.”

“I don’t go there anymore,” Mason said. “The place is a hole.”

Still backing away, Rubric rounded the corner and disappeared. “I’ll get back to ya.” The sound of running feet echoed down the hall.

Mason smiled down at Angel, then turned to me. “Hi.”

“Is that all you have to say to Peroxide after she almost broke my butt?” Tammy snapped, still sitting on the floor, clenching her sore behind.

“How stupid can you be, Angel? The Cool no longer Rule.”

“This isn’t over, Mason. My daddy will have something to say about it.”

“There’ll be no one to listen this time, Tammy. It’s over.”

“Mason—”

“Finis.”

“What about Peroxide?”

“I don’t have anything to say to Peroxide.” Mason turned toward me.

Tammy got up. “This stinks, Mason. Let’s go. Boot! Chew!”

“You go. I gotta get to class.” Agatha glanced quickly at me, smiled shyly, then left.

“All right,” Angel yelled. “The Red Team doesn’t need you!” Then she walked away, dragging Boot with her.

“I have a lot to say to Rinnie, though.” Mason touched my arm.

“I have a lot to say to you, too. You saved my sister and me in the alley. You risked—”

Mason put his hand over my mouth. “Me first.”

“Don’t make me break that other arm.” The little ninth grader pushed between Mason and me, crossing his arms.

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s one of the good guys.”

The ninth grader surveyed Mason with his head tilted, lips pursed. Then he looked up at me and nodded as if he approved. Turning to walk away, he said, “We aren’t afraid anymore. Call if you need me.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Without warning, Mason picked me up in his arms like I was a toothpick, and hugged me. His cast dug into my ribs, but it was okay. He felt warm, and suddenly a memory flashed unasked into my mind. Mason was hugging his dad, and they were both crying. But it was happy crying.

“I helped my dad and Dalrymple round up the drug ring,” Mason said. His blue eyes glistened. “Some pretty important people went down. That’s the phone call you heard me take in the hall.”

“Mason, I’m so—”

He held up his hand and smiled. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. And I never really gave you any reason to trust me, did I? So let me set the record straight. I don’t make drugs. I don’t push drugs. I never did drugs.”

“Psychedone 10. In the park.”

“Never knowingly did drugs. And once I figured out what Scallion was up to, I went straight to my dad.”

“How’s your dad taking it?”

“It’s weird, you know, I thought he’d be pretty mad. But he told me he’s proud of me. Says Mom would be, too. I don’t know why. I probably ruined his political career.”

“Maybe he thinks there are more important things.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Thanks for saving my sister and me in the alley.”

“Any time.” Mason gazed at me thoughtfully. “Thanks for whatever it is you did to me that day in the park.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mason smiled, and turned to leave. Then he stopped. “Hey, I’m on the Dweeb League now, so if you have an opening for a body guard, I’d like to apply. I have good references.”

“So I hear. As a matter of fact, I have the first interview question. Why did you always act like you were so afraid of Egon?”

Mason did the cutest eyebrow raise at me. “Because…he could kick my butt. That was no act.”

“And you still protected me against him in the alley?”

“Thought it would look good on my résumé.”

“Okay. Good enough.” I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to throw my arms around him.

He turned to leave again, but stopped one more time.

“Rinnie?”

“Yeah?”

“The hole I told you about? I think it’s getting better.”

That made me smile.





Chapter Thirty-four

The Looking Glass

D.R. Rosensteel's books