The Mars Project - Julie Steimle (good ebook reader .TXT) 📗

straightforwardly, Jeff put the paper in Uncle Orren’s hands. “I am under a lot more daily pressure than you realize, and sometimes things slip—especially with Zormna around. She is like a trigger for that stuff.”

Jeff strode into the kitchen to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of juice. He searched around in the cupboards for a glass while Uncle Orren stood in the doorway.

“Jafarr, I think you should see this counselor,” Uncle Orren said.

Jeff rolled his eyes. 

“Why? Because I blew it already?” Pouring the juice, Jeff muttered. “I suppose I have to. Stupid group home….”

Uncle Orren shook his head solemnly. “No. I think you need to see him for your own benefit.”

Jeff looked up narrowly at him. “You want me to what?”

His father’s old friend walked over to him and placed a hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “I think you need to see this counselor. I think you need help in coping with the past.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped. He stepped back and away from Uncle Orren.

“I’m coping with the past,” Jeff said, “It is what is driving me forward.”

He marched out of the room to his back bedroom. Uncle Orren followed him.

“You need to cope with your father’s death. It is still tearing you up,” Uncle Orren said to Jeff.

He immediately turned around in a fit of anger not unlike Zormna’s. “Cope? Orrlar, what am I supposed to do? Should I just tell my school counselor all about what I have been doing these past years?” Jeff walked back to Uncle Orren, placing the glass down. “Should I just go, ‘Oh well, I’m actually leading a rebellion against the people that slaughtered my neighbors when I was eight. I know exactly who shot my father, and I can pinpoint the home of the man who gave the order to execute my mother’?” Jeff glared at him. “I think I have been coping pretty darn well by not killing them off in revenge.”

Uncle Orren looked down and shook his head. “But you still have those nightmares.”

Jeff’s face went red, but this time it was in shame. He turned away as he closed his eyes.

“Well, I still see their faces as they lay dead.” He looked up at Uncle Orren and said, “I did the best I could, Orrlar. I just can’t forget.”

The older man nodded. He turned and started out the door. Looking back, he said, “What will you tell them then?”

Jeff sighed and looked up at him. “I’ll just go to the sessions and make something up like always.”

Uncle Orren nodded and walked away.

“By the way,” Jeff called after him. “Zormna is coming over for dinner.”

Uncle Orren suppressed a groan.

*

Mr. Humphries listened as they finished reading the third scene in Macbeth. Brian was reading the bold lines of the wicked king, and their teacher seemed particularly occupied with his text as Jeff glared over the top of his book at him.

“…I will not be afraid of death and bane till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.” Brian placed his book down once he finished his last line.

The ‘Doctor’ read, “Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, profit again should hardly draw me here.”

Mr. Humphries nodded as usual then stood up to pass out reading assignments.

“Teresa, please read yours,” he said.

A girl that had hoped she’d go by in that class unnoticed frowned and stood up. She took her paper, looked at it, cleared her throat and read, “What Would I Want That I Would Do Anything to Get.” She had a soft shy voice, and she barely enunciated when she read. “I would do anything to get a scholarship to college. My family doesn’t have much money, and I know that if I want to continue school I would have to have a full ride scholarship. I study hard and I….”

Jeff maintained his glare on his teacher throughout the class period, so much that the man could almost feel it. Zormna’s expression was the same as always though. She was neither interested nor impressed in the lesson, yet she seemed to notice what was going on with Jeff and looked a degree concerned when she glanced at him.

Mr. Humphries was feeling an unusual urge to leave class early with a headache.

However, class ended without incident, especially since Mr. Humphries did not call on either Zormna or Jeff to read. When everyone filed out of the room, Jeff waited in his seat then slowly gathered his things. Zormna watched him as she stuffed her bag with her books. She glanced up at Adam and Sam, who were both waiting for her at the door, though she also hesitated.

When Jeff stood up and walked to the front of the room, he stopped at Mr. Humphries’s desk.

“You couldn’t mind your own business,” Jeff said, glaring at his teacher.

His teacher sat up straight, gaining confidence in his choice. “I have responsibility as your teacher to see to your welfare—”

“It was none of your business.” Jeff cut him off. He placed his hands hard on the table and growled at him—a very non Jeff-like thing to do. “I was handling it.”

Zormna immediately walked back from the door. She grabbed Jeff by the sleeve. “Come on, you’re going to be late for class.”

Jeff wouldn’t budge.

“Have you any idea what problems you have caused for me now?” He hissed at the teacher.

Jerking on his arm, Zormna clenched his jacket sleeve tighter. “Jafarr, shut up. We have to go now.”

His stare at the teacher bore into Mr. Humphries like knives. He still didn’t budge.

Zormna grabbed Jeff by his collar and jerked him to face her. “Do I need to put you in a headlock and drag you out? Because I will do it.”

Though Jeff glared at her, he relinquished. Huffing as she let him go, he tromped away.

However, once he stepped in the hall, Zormna glared back at Mr. Humphries herself. “What you did was not helpful.”

She left.

Sam and Adam followed her, rushing so they wouldn’t be late for History.

As shaken as he was, Mr. Humphries did not regret what he did. Watching those teenagers, he believed more than ever that those two needed help. He only hoped he hadn’t done it too late.

 

[1] Be careful, she might be a spy.

[2] You think so?

[3] Look for bugs

 

Chapter Fifteen: Homecoming

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“A smart girl is one who can hold a man at arm’s length and not lose her grip on him.”

—anon—

 

 

The Homecoming game roared into action at six o’clock on Friday. The cheer squad wore their best uniforms, all warm up top and just as airy as ever on bottom. Pirate school spirit was everywhere from their black and red uniforms to the Jolly Roger waving flag team and the band in grubby pirate regale. Pennington High ‘threw’ the best football games, like a party. Nearly everyone in town came to the game. This time it was Pennington verses Harvest High, and the odds were for the Harvest Hawks winning 2 to 1. Still, everyone was hopeful for a great win that Homecoming.

Wrapped in flannel and fleece blankets, everyone in the stands watched in excitement, including the FBI who had come to watch Zormna and Jeff. Of course they were dressed like boosters, with their Pennington High knit caps, red and black sweatshirts, and warm mugs of cocoa from the concession stand. They were even waving mini Jolly Rogers.

Brian’s group of friends had claimed their usual spot near the front not far from the band. Their cheers were loud. They posed for the yearbook photographers. Brian’s close buddies all wore their wrestling lettermen jackets, and brought red and black blankets as well. And sitting near them were people who wanted to get in on the fun Brian’s pals always brought. Sam had joined them, looking around for Adam who was for some reason scarce, even though he had said he was coming. Kevin sat with his own friends higher up in the stands, while Jennifer was stuck shivering with the flag team in her skimpy red and black sequined outfit. Her nylon tights didn’t offer much warmth, and she was tempted to wrap herself in her flag. The cheerleaders started to cheer, just to keep themselves warm.

 

       Go! Go Pirates! Kick em in the a…a…a…a…!

       Go! Go Pirates! Kick em in the a…a…a…a…!

 

They chanted, wiggling their tushies as some of the crowd joined in. A bunch of the flag girls imitated the cheerleaders, mocking them. The crowd was so occupied with the game, cheering and yelling that when halftime hit it came by surprise. So far the game ran head to head, 14 and 14.

The band immediately started the fight song.

 

 Oh we’re the Pirates from Pennington High!

With a yo, ho, ho and a battle of fun.

We’ll fight on until the day we die!

With a swarthy swagger and a flag on the run.

Shiver me timbers.

And blow the man down!

Hoist the Jolly Roger

‘Cause we’re coming around.

With sixteen men on a dead man’s chest.

You’d better fight hard ‘cause we are the best

         

And Ho maties! We’ll hoist them up!

The Pennington pirates have come!

We’ll fight with our might! For it is our right!

‘Cause we are number one!

 

Everyone cheered.

“And this year’s Homecoming floats!” The loudspeaker resonated over the entire field and into the homes surrounding the school. Exuberant cheers answered him.

As parade of floats passed by their station, the two announcers openly critiqued them. One voice was bright and boisterous. The other came out rounded, full of himself and speaking with dirty-old-man jargon.

“Well these pretty girls on the sophomore float will be turning heads someday,” the first remarked.

“They’re turning heads now,” the other added with a low whistle. “Rraow, rraow!”

Zormna rolled her eyes as she stood off to the side of the track. She was half tempted to climb up there and give the man a talking to. Or maybe just a black eye.

“…This year’s senior float is brought to you by Dawson’s Garden and Gable, home of the best perennials this side of….” They prattled on in their advertisements while the students cheered their friends and waved at their class floats. The theme for that year: ‘A Real Treasure’ was interpreted four ways by each of the grades.

The freshman float was on the flat of a hay truck, decorated with gold fabric, kids dressed like bank security guards and a few kids in striped robber costumes attempting to steal the gold. They were throwing gold candy coins at the crowd. Both Henderson twins were with the float. Ammon was dressed as a robber. Moroni was a bank guard, strangling him.

The sophomores were dressed as ‘nerds’ with pocket protectors. They were walking with a bookmobile, carrying sign saying the greatest treasure was knowledge. But they didn’t look as happy as the freshmen with the chocolate. They didn’t recognize anyone on the float.

Then the junior float came up. They were in red-white-and-blue, though some kids were dressed in military costume. Their ‘float was a military Humvee and they were carrying a banner saying freedom is the truest treasure. Jessica was in soldier uniform, holding part of the banner. She had Zormna help her put her hair into ‘military appropriate’ style. A couple others from their class rode that float.

But the senior float, obligatorily big, was on the flat