Spark, p.1
Spark, page 1
Spark
T.D. WILSON
AuthorHouse™
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© 2018 . All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 07/02/2018
ISBN: 978-1-5462-4870-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5462-4869-9 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018907506
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 1
“Hey, Lucas! Check this out!”
Lucas Tavera looked up from his phone. His friend Ty Bridwell was jogging up to him, beaming with excitement. His other friend, Nate Wissen, had been looking over Lucas’ shoulder. Nate was blond and lanky, while Ty was dark-haired and stood barely five feet tall. The boys loitered under a live oak tree outside Fulmore Middle School while Lucas played a game on his phone. Even in the early morning, the temperature hovered around 95 degrees in the September sun.
“What is it?” Lucas asked, barely looking up.
“The Justice League 3 trailer came out,” he said, holding out his phone, and Lucas paused his game to take it. In a rapidly-edited fight scene, Batman and the Flash fought alongside each other against a crew of mooks. The Flash dashed away, too fast to be more than a red blur, with lightning trailing behind him.
“Looks cool, I guess,” Lucas shrugged, handing back the phone.
“Ty, look what Lucas is playing,” Nate said with a sideways nod.
Ty craned to look at the screen of Lucas’ iPhone. It was brand-new, a gift for his twelfth birthday back in June.
“Is that Limbo?” Ty asked, frowning.
“Yeah,” Lucas nodded, tapping and swiping with his thumbs. A diminutive character ran forward and jumped across a monochromatic background.
“I don’t understand that game,” Ty said, wrinkling his nose. “And the puzzles are stupid.”
“You just have to work at it for a little while,” Lucas said without looking up.
“You should have seen how quick he solved the last one,” Nate added.
“But there’s no explanation,” Ty protested. “It doesn’t tell you anything about what’s going on. Not even the rules.”
“It’s simple,” Lucas shrugged. “Just solve the puzzles till you rescue the girl. This is the new version; it’s way better.”
Ty rolled his eyes.
“You want to try?”
“No, I told you—it’s stupid.”
“Hey, watch out,” Nate warned, tapping Lucas’ shoulder.
Lucas looked in the direction Nate was staring; a few yards up the sidewalk, a group of eighth-graders strolled toward them, talking and hooting loudly. Music boomed loudly from someone’s portable speaker. In the front was Val Espinoza, a Hispanic boy whose hair was shaved into a mohawk; to his left walked Darren Jones and Howard Mays, two former football players who were kicked off the team after they were suspended for setting off fireworks in the boy’s locker room last year while the PE class was inside changing; to his right was Brick Wallach, the biggest and scariest-looking of the whole group, a full foot taller than the rest. The only reason he wasn’t the leader was because Val was smarter and meaner, bullying the others into submission though he was only half their size.
As they swaggered past, Lucas, Nate and Ty fell quiet and lowered their eyes. Lucas kept his hands down, concealing his phone at his side. Any of them - Val, Howard, Darren or Brick - would go out of their way to steal a brand-new phone like his, but they all kept moving without a sideways glance, heading toward the backside of the school.
“That was close,” Nate sighed.
“Yeah,” Lucas nodded, watching the group walk off.
The first bell rang to allow the students into school. The two main doors opened, and the kids who had been waiting outside began to stream through them while a couple of assistant principals stood by the stairs to mitigate rowdiness. Lucas picked up his backpack and walked with Nate and Ty, following the others through the wide double doors. Inside, a large hallway split into five smaller ones, leading the students past grumpy-looking teachers, display cases of decades-old trophies, and wrinkled posters. Lucas’ first period class was located in the 200 wing, the first left, so he wove through the slow-moving crowd, making his way to the left side of the main hallway.
“Text you later, guys,” he called over the noise to Nate and Ty, who had classes on the other side. They waved and then went on their way.
Some commotion behind him caused Lucas to look up from the game he was still playing as he walked. He looked back over the heads of the crowd of kids and saw Val, Howard, and Darren now entering the building, jostling and shoving the other students in the midst of the over-crowded hallway. An assistant principal yelled at them to settle down and keep moving, but Val sneered at her over his shoulder. She glared at him, but moved on up the hallway. Lucas kept to the wall, which was already crowded with several other students, as he slowly got closer and closer to his classroom. Music came on over the intercom to signal the last minute of passing period, and Lucas could finally see his classroom door. He came upon two eighth-graders making goo-goo eyes at each other, and his progress slowed as he waited awkwardly for a chance to move around them.
Then something big slammed into him. The two goo-goo-eyed kids yelped and jumped out of the way, and Lucas was pinned helplessly to the wall by something incredibly strong.
“Oops,” the thing chuckled. It was Brick. Brick had a thick, jutting forehead, acne scars and red stubble across his chin. His breath stank as his face leaned much too close. He had both of Lucas’ wrists locked in a vice-like grip with one hand while the other dug into his pocket. Lucas felt his phone slip away.
“Hey!” he exclaimed angrily but Brick pushed him into the wall harder with all of his one hundred and seventy pounds, his forearm pressed against Lucas’ upper back, squeezing the air from his lungs.
“Brick!” a hall monitor called from down the quickly-emptying hall.
Brick immediately released Lucas, but kept one firm hand on his shoulder. He grinned at the hall monitor.
“Hi, Mr. Stevens; we’re just playing around,” he said, patting Lucas’ back. “Right, Lucas?”
Lucas couldn’t respond. He was out of breath, and his chest hurt from being crushed against the wall.
“Come on, get to class, or you’re both going to be late,” Mr. Stevens said dully, ushering them along.
“Yes, sir,” Brick nodded, and trotted off. Mr. Stevens walked past Lucas without a second glance, following a group of kids who were just leaving the bathrooms.
Lucas picked up his backpack from the floor, then took several steps toward the classroom before patting the pockets of his jeans. He froze as panic set in.
Where’s my phone? He wondered, but he already knew: Brick had stolen it. Of course he stole it. Lucas’ heart sank and he kicked the wall. What was he supposed to do now?
“Lucas, hurry up!” Mr. Sanchez, his first period teacher, called irritably from the doorway.
Lucas realized he was alone in the hall. He hurried into the classroom and took his seat in the second row from the back. Mr. Sanchez shut the door and instructed everyone to answer the warm-up question in their notebooks. Lucas fished his notebook and a pencil from his backpack, but he was too distracted to write anything. He needed to get his phone back. All he could think about were the horrible things Brick might do with it. Was he going to give it to Val? Were they going to sell it? Would he take disgusting pictures with it first? To make matters worse, he knew how furious his mother would be. He would be grounded for life.
Mr. Sanchez called for everyone to put down their pencils, then he walked the aisles, inspecting the students’ responses to the writing prompt. He strolled past Lucas’ desk and shook his head.
“Disappointing,” he sighed. “You need to stop daydreaming, Lucas. You can do better work than this.”
Lucas put his head in his hands, drawing a deep breath. He did his best to focus for the rest of class, but Mr Sanchez’s lectures on Texas History were anything but interesting. He bit his lip and squirmed impatiently. Finally, the bell rang and he squeezed his way past the other st udents and shot out the door. His next class was Art with Mrs. Grint, the only class he had with both Nate and Ty together. He jogged through the hallways to her classroom and met them outside. As he arrived, Nate gave him a nod and reached out his hand for their secret handshake, and Lucas quickly complied.
“That was sloppy,” Nate chided. “Hey, Lucas, do you have notes for Mrs. Cunningham’s class I can borrow? I’m going to fail that quiz today for sure.”
“What? Yes, but - guys, listen, I need to tell you something.” he said breathlessly. “Brick stole my phone. He pinned me in the hallway and took it.”
Both boys winced.
“Damn… that sucks,” Nate remarked.
“Yeah, my mom is gonna be pissed,” Lucas grumbled. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Pray, I guess,” Nate replied with a shrug.
“I’m sorry, man,” Ty shook his head. “That phone is gone.”
“No, I have to get it back,” Lucas said angrily. “I’ll just report him to the office. Maybe the police can get it back.”
Nate burst out laughing.
“What?” Lucas said. “I’m gonna tell the office that he took it.”
Nate and Ty shared an incredulous look.
“Yeah, and maybe the tooth fairy will leave you money for a new phone under your pillow,” Ty retorted.
“You know Val once got in a fight with his girlfriend’s step-dad and got away with it?” Nate said.
“So?”
“And he’s in a fight club!”
“That’s not true,” Lucas said flatly.
“Maybe not, but he can still make you regret you ever snitched on one of his guys,” Ty said seriously. “He definitely would, if you reported him. You remember the fireworks in the locker room?”
“Yes, we were all there,” Lucas said impatiently.
“Scared the shit out of me,” Nate added.
“Remember what happened to Matt after he told the office?” Ty said.
“I heard he changed schools,” Nate remarked.
“Yeah, ’cause Val broke his nose,” Ty said. “But nobody can prove it.”
“Guys, that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Lucas exclaimed. “They pull this shit all the time, and sooner or later, somebody’s gotta stand up to them.”
“I’d rather it be later,” Ty muttered.
“Me too,” Nate agreed.
“Either way, I have to get my phone back or I’m gonna be in deep trouble.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Nate said, shaking his head. “When are you gonna go?”
“Right now,” Lucas said with more conviction than he really felt.
The music started over the intercom, signaling one minute remaining in passing period. The hallways were nearly empty now.
“Lucas,” Ty said seriously. “He’ll come find you once he finds out. And if he doesn’t, Brick, Howard, or Darren will. You know what they do to snitches.”
“Well, it’s either I tell on them, or I tell my mom that I lost the brand-new phone she gave me for my birthday.”
“I guess it depends on whether you want to live to see your next birthday or be grounded until then,” Nate said dryly.
“Thanks for the moral support, guys,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. With that, he approached the art teacher where she stood outside the classroom door, monitoring the halls.
“Mrs. Grint?”
She turned to him with sharp, inquisitive eyes. “Yes?”
“May I go to the office?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “There are no trips to the office allowed during class time. You know that.”
“Please,” Lucas begged. “It’s important.”
Mrs. Grint shook her head dismissively. “Go to your seat; class is about to start.”
Abashed, he found his desk and hung his backpack on the back of his chair. He sat at the end of the row, with Ty to his right and Nate across the aisle on his left.
“What happened?” Ty asked in a whisper.
“She said I couldn’t go,” Lucas whispered back.
“What now?”
“Give me a minute,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”
A red-haired girl entered the classroom just as the bell rang, and took her place two seats down from Lucas at the long table. It was Lily Hofstetter, a girl who lived on his street, though he’d never spoken to her. She brushed her long braid aside and glanced over her shoulder, then waved shyly at him. He managed a smile and waved back, but he had to remain focused on the problem at hand.
As Mrs. Grint directed the class to construct their clay models, Lucas tried to pay attention, but was largely unsuccessful. The clay was a shapeless lump in front of him; he was supposed to mold it into anything that came to mind. Beside him, Ty worked fastidiously on his model of a human face. At least, he guessed it was a human face; it had a long nose and wide, eerily detailed eyes. Nate was squishing his clay between his fingers. Lucas knew that he was just trying to look busy, because he had absolutely no inspiration for a sculpture and hated art. Lucas did too, and was dying to leave. He raised his hand and asked to go to the bathroom; to his delight, Mrs Grint said yes. He picked up the orange bathroom pass by the door and then walked quickly up the hall. He kept his eyes forward as he passed a hall monitor, then hooked a left beyond the bathrooms and made for the office, almost jogging now.
The receptionist looked up as he entered, but he kept moving, his eyes down. She called out to him.
“Hey! Whoa, where are you going?” she asked.
“I need to talk to my counselor,” he said breathlessly, pausing in his step.
She blinked with hesitation, then said, “Oh, okay. Well, go ahead.”
He walked down the corridor to the counselors’ offices; there was one for each grade level. Lucas stopped in front of Mrs. Boyd’s office. She was the counselor for seventh-graders. Inside, Mrs. Boyd was typing something into her computer, her eyes down. He knocked on the door and she looked up and then, with an expression of surprise, reached over and opened it.
“Lucas, how are you?” she asked with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said hesitantly. “I need to talk to you.”
“Of course,” she answered. “Take a seat.”
He stepped into the tiny office. Mrs. Boyd’s desk took up nearly a third of the limited space with bookshelves, a file cabinet, and an armchair crowding the rest. She pointed to the red-and-gold upholstered chair and Lucas sat down.
“What’s going on?”
“Brick Wallach stole my phone,” he said.
“When did this happen?” she asked.
“This morning,” he replied. “Before first period.”
“In school?”
“Yes, in the 200 wing hallway.”
“Well, I’ll have to get a campus police officer,” Mrs. Boyd said. “Do you want to talk to one?”
Lucas nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, I do.”
Mrs. Boyd stepped past him and poked her head out the door. She hailed the police officer standing by the door of the discipline office, and he came over. She spoke quietly to to the officer before he came in.
“What happened?” he asked, taking a small notebook from his front pocket.
Lucas described how Brick had surprised him, pinning him against the wall while he took his money and phone. He gave every possible detail he could remember about his iPhone.
“Anything else?” the officer asked.
“That’s all,” he answered. His hands were tucked under his legs to hide their quavering.
“Alright, well if you think of anything, just give me a call,” the officer said, handing Lucas a card. Lucas nodded again, then placed the card in his pocket.
The officer left, closing the door behind him. Mrs. Boyd returned to her desk, swiveling her chair to face him.
“Well, is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Lucas admitted. “I guess I’m a little afraid that if Brick finds out I ratted on him, he’ll beat me up. Everybody says that’s what happens.”
