Riding the Waves (PJO and HoO) : Chapter 1

It goes without saying: school definitely sucks. Big time. Unfortunately, it's also where my entire world did a full 180. Go figure.

The trouble didn't start until the day of my school's annual “Parent Night.” But I guess I should probably start some time before that.

I was in my sixth period American history class, struggling to stay awake as our teacher, Mrs. Tot, droned on about the evolution of the political parties since the early nineteen hundreds and outside social influences and blah blah blah. It was the last class on a Friday and my brain was fried from day-long excessive note taking and two pretest.

This class was the source of all my boredom-related causes of after school detention. By the end of the day I started to lose all focus in anything school-related, and it didn’t help if Mrs. Tot was one of my more boring teachers. If she started talking about post war economics, there's a good chance I'd be snoozing, doodling, or passing notes in class.

…the latter being why I got detention that faithful day.

Mrs. Tot was talking about the shifting values of the Democratic Party since it was first conceived. I was only half listening, my attention split between drawing stick figures in my composition book and thinking about bulk-sized box of Skittles I hid (and occasionally sold individual boxes of) under my bed. “Illegal candy stashes” would get me at least two months worth of after-school detention of smacking chalkboard erasers together even though this school hasn't used a chalkboard in a bajillion years.

Anyway, it was when I caught Mrs. Tot saying: “All right, class. What do you think caused the democrats to become the party they are today? Put on your Democratic hats and really think about it!” that my Bad Idea light bulb lit up.

Of course, it was the teacher's pet (and student class president) Alana that spoke up. During that time, I tore out a sheet of paper from my composition book, scribble a word down in my awful handwriting, and tried to pass it to my friend, Hayden, who sat to my left.

My only mistake was that I made it too obvious.

Mrs. Tot caught me instantly. “Ms. Fischer,” she addressed me calmly.

“Yes ma'am?”I straighten in my chair.

A few of my friends snickered. Alana turned towards me, giving me her patented “seriously?” look.

Mrs. Tot wasn't buying my innocent act. “What is in your hand, Ms Fischer?”

“A piece of paper, ma’am,” I said quickly.

She glowered. “Is there something on the paper?”

I sighed. I couldn't lie to a teacher when she was giving a death glare like that. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Would you like to read it to the class?”

“No, not really.”

“Ms. Fischer.”

I slumped in my chair, trying to ignore the giggling that was coming from around me. I unfolded the paper and started to read it out loud, but Mrs. Tot interrupted me.

“Stand up in front of the class, please, Ms. Fischer since you have something important to say,” she said.

I resisted the urge to groan and wind up in even more trouble. Why do teachers always do this to me? Is it fun to watch me suffer?

(You could say that I deserved this from passing notes in class, but that’s beside the point.)

Silently, note in hand, I sulked to the front of the class. Hayden gave me a sympathetic look from the back row. Alana sighed, shaking her head.

I got to the front, where Mrs. Tot's desk was, and got ready to humiliate myself.

I took a deep breath and read my paper.

“Asshats.”

After a beat, the entire class erupted into laughter. Even straight-laced Alana stifled a chuckle.

But Mrs. Tot didn't laugh. She looked like she wanted to throttle me.

“Care to explain yourself?” she asked, coldly.

I figured what the heck? I already got my detention. “You said to put on your 'democratic hats.' My ADHD brain immediately jumped to…” I did a rotating motion with my hand.

Mrs. Tot sneered. “Say it.”

I blinked. “Asshats.”

The class laughed on cue like a prerecorded studio audience. Nothing like some dirty words to get a room full of eight graders to show their true colors.

“Right.” She smiled at me, but it wasn't friendly. “Go back to your seat.”

That's all? I wanted to ask, but I figured I already made a moron out of myself already. No need to make it worse.

The last half hour of class went by smoothly. I actually tried paying attention this go-round. I even wrote some notes, even though my note book was layered in doodles and my writing was nearly illegible.

When the final bell rang, everyone gathered their stuff and ran towards the door like ants fleeing water. Hayden and I straggled near the end of the mob.

“Ms. Fischer,” I heard Mrs. Tot say. “I need to have a word with you.”

I turned towards Hayden. “I'll meet you later, ‘kay?”

She looked at Mrs. Tot wearily, then back at me. Her gaze made me uncomfortable, for some reason. “All right.” She said, and left.

I sat in the front chair, closest to Mrs. Tot's desk, as I was accustomed to. Mrs. Tot got out of her chair and strolled to the front, leaning back on her desk. She regarded me with a cold, dark stare.

Mrs. Tot was one of the youngest teachers who worked at our school; maybe in her early thirties, and was very pretty. Her black curly hair was pulled into a classic “teachers'-style” bun, with a similar business casual style. She had moved here from Egypt a few years back, but trace amounts of her accent was still there.

Another thing: she always had a pitcher of water and a glass on her desk that she never touched during class. When asked about it on the first day of class, all she said was that it was for “sentimental reasons,” and we left it at that.

After what seemed like eternity, Mrs. Tot finally spoke. “This is the second time you've interrupted my class in less than a month, Ms. Fischer. We're not off to a very good start now, are we?”

“No, ma'am,” I said quickly. “I'm sorry.”

She sighed. “You know what I must do, right? Understand that I have no choice. After-school detention for a week starting Monday sounds about fair.”

I nodded.

“Tonight is Parent Night, so I going to expect better behavior from you. And I'm sure your parents do as well, correct?”

I shuffled in my seat. “Yes… yes, ma'am.”

Mrs. Tot eyes soften a degree. “Kaia,” she sighed. I was surprised, because she never used our first names. “I know it's not your fault. It's your 'condition'. But do try to do better. Are you taking your medication?”

My cheeks burned. I nodded again.

“Good. I'd hate to dole out any third offense punishment. It's not really my style anymore.”

She fixed me a humorless smile, like I should know what she meant. That made me feel more nervous than I already was. I shook off the feeling and decided not to ask for details. I just “Yes ma'amed” and left as quickly as I could.

As I walked out of the class room, I heard Mrs. Tot pouring herself a glass of water, a sound I never thought could be so ominous.

~*~

I found Hayden sitting on the couch with a couple of our other friends in the common room.

The common room (or “chill zone” as our principal who failed at being cool called it) was basically a cross between a library and a rec room. Shelves of books sat by the plush leather couch. Adjacent, there were a cluster of round tables by the window where you could study, but mostly they were used for board games and snoozing.

A blonde girl sat alone near the window, reading a book with a building on the cover. I recognized her as one of the sophomores who were new to the school.

A fuse ball table was on the opposite wall. A large TV sat on the wall in front if the couch. One of my friends, Axel Powers (yes, that is his real name), was channel surfing through stations.

I plopped next to Hayden, and lolled my head back in an exaggerated dying expression.

She laughed. “That bad?”

“A full week of after school detention,” I groaned. “I'll miss, like, ten whole hours of TV.”

One of Axel's friends piped in, “At least it starts Monday. You have a two day break.”

“Pfft.”

Hayden play-mockingly patted my head like, “Poor baby.”

Axel stopped flipping channel and fixed me with his sea blue eyes. I couldn't help but notice the cute way his hair swept over his forehead, the dimples in his cheeks… “I can't believe you said that in class,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That's—”

“Insane,” Hayden offered. “Perhaps psychotic?”

“It was pretty funny. And pretty cool.”

My cheeks warmed and my stomach fluttered at the compliment.

I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, I didn't plan to say that out loud and all…”

My friends laughed and playfully teased me before going back to doing what they were before I arrive: watching TV or gossiping.

Hayden raised an eyebrow at me. “Asshats? Really?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Hayden laughed and we talked for a while; our usual stuff about what was on TV and how I blushed when Axel complimented me. Hayden and I have been best friends since third grade. We were virtually inseparable.

Hayden was half-white, half-Japanese with long dark hair; strangely though, her eyes were pale green. She wore combat boots with the school uniform. I wasn’t sure if it was allowed being “Goth fashion” and all, but no one questioned it.  

About a half-hour later, she decided to head back to her room to prepare for tonight.

“But Parent Night isn't for another two hours,” I said, but as soon as I did I regretted it. “Oh, I'm sorry…”

Hayden shifted in her seat and stared at the floor.

Her father died two years earlier in an accident. She would've been sent to foster care if her mom hadn't taken custody. Hayden never told me the full story of how it all went down, which was fine, she didn’t have to. But it was the part about her mother that was the biggest mystery. I had never met Hayden's mom, and until the accident, I didn't even know that Hayden knew her mom.

“It's fine," Hayden said softly. “I just want to take a nap, that’s all.”

“Oh.” I wanted to ask if everything was okay with her, but then figured that I was just being paranoid. “No problem. I'll see you tonight.”

She nodded. “See you later.” She grabbed the lavender bag that she took everywhere, and left the couch. Before leaving the room, she glanced at the blonde girl briefly. Distracted, Hayden didn't see the seventh grader that barreled into her.

“Sorry!” he squeaked, before limping over to the blonde girl.

Hayden eyed the boy curiously before shrugging and going on her way.

I recognized the seventh grader from my PE class. He had a muscular disorder or something which allowed him to sit out in class. I kind of felt bad for him; he was always looking on wistfully when we played extreme kick ball.

He went over to the blonde girl, and started speaking frantically to her. Maybe they were siblings? I didn't want to eavesdrop, so I turned my attention towards the TV. Old Jabberjaw cartoons were on.

~*~

When I returned to my room around three cartoons later, I was shocked to find that Alana was already there. Usually, she was at her many clubs or at practice. She sat in front of the vanity mirror that we shared, styling her caramel-colored hair into a bob with her curling iron.

Music played on the radio. I recognized it as the Jonas Brothers, Alana's favorite band. I cringed and rolled my eyes. I was tempted to throw the radio out the window, but I controlled my (completely justified) urge and plopped down on my bed.

Alana looked at me through the mirror. “Some stunt you pulled today.” She sounded half amused, half annoyed.

“Yeah, well…” I sighed, hugging my stuffed panda bear to my chest. The last thing I wanted was another scolding.

“Hmm.” She set the curling iron down, and spun on her seat to face me. “Listen, Kaia,” she said gently, or maybe condescendingly, “you have to stop acting like that. It reflects badly on both of us, and I, well… I have an image to uphold.”

I glared listlessly at Alana then closed my eyes. How could someone so snotty and straight-laced be my sister, let alone my twin? We didn't even look alike, so how could she be bothered with me “ruining her image” when most people didn't even know we were related?

I bit my lip and nodded. “Sorry, Lana. It's been a long week.”

“Have you been taking your medication every day?”

“Uh, define 'every day'?”

“Kaia!” Alana cried in a shrill voice.

“Kidding, Lana. Seriously.” I sat up on my bed. “I hate taking them. They make me feel so…not really here.”

Her glare softened. “I know, Kai. But maybe if you take one now, you’ll behave tonight and not get into anymore trouble.”

I sighed and raised my hands in defeat. “Fine, I will. Will that make you happy?”

Alana grinned, her brown eyes glittering in triumph. “Yes, it would.” She turned back to the mirror, inspecting her perfect 'do. “Hey, let me straight iron your hair.”

I snorted, hopping out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. “After last time? Not a chance!”

“I promise not to burn you this time!”

“Keep that thing away from me!” I slammed the bathroom door.

Through the door, I heard Alana's muffled voice call out, “Real mature, Kai!” and I couldn’t help chuckling.

The bathroom was small, just a sink, toilet, and a shower. Everything was painted a soft peach color with seashell wall paper. Next to the door hung pink and green towels with our names embroidered on either one (I'll give you one chance to guess which is whose).

Above the sink, the mirror opened to a compartment that could be used to store medicine, which of course meant that I didn't store my medicine there.

I eyed the orange bottle of pills that lay on the counter. I knew that taking them now wouldn’t do much good now since school was over, but there was no point in arguing with Alana. She meant well, but she could be so image conscious sometimes. She liked for everything to be her version of perfection and frankly, it was annoying.

But Alana was as close to perfect as one could get. Along with being the eighth grade president, she was co-head captain for the middle school cheerleading squad along with captain of the swim team. She got straight A's and never got a single detention in her life. Alana was beautiful, prettier than I was. She had flawless beige skin, a shade or two lighter than mine and perfect hair. Alana was one of those bubbly girls who loved pink, talked about boys, and debated the pros and cons of celebrity heartthrobs. And of course everyone loved her.

Then there was me, the complete opposite: An ADHD, dyslexic, trouble maker with a potty mouth who threw Alana's A plus-plus grade down to a C minus.

I berated myself for throwing a pity party, and grabbed the pills before I could delve deeper into my self-pity. I popped the bottle and swallowed one of the orange capsules, using the tap as a drink.

I hated the pills. They killed my appetite, and made me feel not quite all together, like my consciousness was floating around outside of my head.

In the fourth grade, I was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia. The school provided tutoring and help, so reading and writing became somewhat easier than it would’ve been for me. My English and reading classes were still a hassle, though; words still swam around like an unsynchronized swimming team and reading anything more than a paragraph made my head throb and my eyes cross.

The pills didn't come in until seventh grade; my parents didn't want me on medication at the age nine. They tried to get me alternative help: special no process sugar, super fiber diets; one-cup-a-day green tea diets; strict exercise regimens (all of which I never followed). None helped, and with my teacher's coercion, my parents sort of gave in.

When I left the bathroom, Alana was still prepping herself in the mirror, smoothing the creases in her skirt and applying lip gloss.

“Conceited much?” I joked.

“Shh.” She threw one of her makeup tissues at me. It sailed slowly over to me and landed harmlessly on my head.

“Ow,” I said, deadpan.

Alana ignored me, placing a pink headband in her perfect hair and making googly eyes at her poster of Tristan McLean. “You should get ready,” she said. “Mom and Dad will be here soon, and I want to see them before I speak. Besides, you look frumpy.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I looked down at my blue pants and white and red uniform collar shirt. The only thing “frumpy” about me were my mismatched pair of converses: one red, one green.

“Let me brush your hair,” Alana insisted, waving her hair brush around. “Or a ponytail! You always look so cute with a ponytail.”

After some convincing, I conceded, and let Alana have her way. Eventually, she had me in a ponytail with one of her pink scrunchies and (gasp!) lip gloss, which I planned to wipe of later.

Pleased, Alana grabbed our sweaters and ushered me out the door.

~*~

Hayden met us on the way to the auditorium. She was wearing a long sleeve school shirt with the red band on the bicep and long skirt with her boots. Her lavender bag hung at her side. She looked nice, but she looked sad.

I touched her shoulder. “You sure you want to come? No one's going to be mad if you stay in tonight.”

“No,” she said quickly, and put an arm around my shoulder to jostle me. “I mean, who's going to make sure you don't get in trouble for cussing out everyone and their mama?”

“Hardee-har-har.”

We headed towards the noise. Mingling adults and chatty teens could be heard a mile away. When we got to the theater, I was taken aback by how many parents decided to come this year. I wasn’t worried about seating, though, the theater had a 1,000 seating capacity: a stage worthy of any New York theater.

The student government decorated the entire auditorium with red and white streamers and balloons. A banner hung on top of the stage that read “Welcome, Parents, to Saint Catherine's School for the Gifted and Special. A fitting name, Alana once joked, since she was gifted, and I was “special”.

Along the wall were tables filled with cheese and crackers, vegetable trays, chips and dip, and a cooler of water and soda. They looked great, but unfortunately, I wasn't feeling very hungry (thanks, Lana).

I caught Axel out of the corner of my eye. He was by the punch bowl with his parents and a group of his friends. When he saw me, he waved a “rock out” sign with his hand at me. I felt myself blush, but I waved the sign back.

Through the web of adults and students, we managed to spot my parents near the front, talking to Mrs. Tot. I grimaced and headed towards the exit, but Alana dragged me back by my ear.

My parents—David and Lanakila—smiled when they saw us. Hugs and greetings were exchange around.

Mrs. Tot excused herself, and I could've sworn she glared at me before she left, but I didn't really notice. It was nice to see my parents again. I didn't get to see them all the time, and honestly, I missed them.

Mom looked at me with beautiful dark eyes and a playful smile. Her brown skin was set beautifully against a dark green blouse and black pencil skirt. Her black hair was cut short.

My dad was handsome, with close cropped sandy hair and blue eyes.  He wore his standard black business suit and dress shoes. The least serious thing about what he wore was a Scooby-Doo tie Alana and I got him for Father's Days two years ago.

Mom hugged me again. She smelled like our home: vanilla coffee beans with a hint of tropical fruit blend febreeze. “Hi, girls. You three look beautiful.”

I rubbed the back if my head, embarrassed. “Mom…”

“And you've grown— what? Two, three feet, Junior?” Dad joked, measuring Alana, bringing his hand from his forehead to hers as if they were the same height.

“It’s just ‘Lana’, Dad,” Alana complained.

Dad just grinned. “Hey, your mother was Lana first. It’s only fair.”

We talked and caught up for a while. Mom and Dad talked about how our grandparents and Max (our baby brother) were doing; we talked about school so far. Sure, it didn’t sound very exciting, but it was nice to talk to my parents again.

Eventually, Alana had to run backstage to join the other student council members. The principal, a pudgy guy in his fifties, came on stage a told everyone that they would be ready in a few minutes.

“Hayden,” my dad said kindly. “Why don't you pick out a seat for us? We'll be there in a second.”

Uh oh, I thought. Here it comes.

“Sure, Mr. Fischer,” Hayden said, and left to find our seats.

My parents turned their attention back to me. I looked down, studying my shoe laces.

“Kaia,” Mom said gently. “Your teacher, Mrs. Tot, had a talk with us. She said you were passing inappropriate notes in class. Is that true?”

I never understood why Mom asked me if something was true when she knew the truth anyway, but I always was honest when she did. “Yeah.”

“Kai.” Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. The joking in his voice was replaced with a serious edge. “We'll talk more about this later tonight. But know that your mother and I aren't exactly pleased with your behavior. You should know better.”

“I'm sorry.” I meant it. I hated making my parents upset and disappointed. They expected me to do my best, and I felt awful giving them otherwise.

Dad's eyes softened. “We know you’re trying, Kai. Don't think that we aren't proud of you.”

Proud of what, I wanted to ask. I struggled to maintain my C average. I wasn't a part of any clubs. I wasn't… well, I wasn't Alana.

Mom smiled at me reassuringly, which made me feel a bit better. Her warm smile reminded me back when we used to live in Hawaii and mom would hug me and sing me a lullaby whenever I was sad.

The lights in the auditorium dimmed, signaling for everyone to grab a seat.

We squeezed in the middle section by Hayden just as the principal was walking on stage. Hayden mouthed, “You okay?” I smiled and gave a thumbs up.

The night went as it always had: the principal first with cheesy jokes and phony positive attitude; then Alana with Vice President Axel Powers and the rest of the student body government from the other classes came on and talked about the plans for the year; and the high school band played the two same songs every year: the school theme, and the butchered chorus for “This is how We do it.”

The teachers lined the bottom of the stage and the walls around the seats. Most looked bored, while others pigged out on snack table delectables.

But Mrs. Tot glowered at me, as if daring me to goof up.

A video of the previous year highlights was started to play along some with dated pop music. My eyes were starting to glaze over. Every Parent Night was the same, and honestly it was getting old.

Next to me, Hayden had the same bored expression on her face, like she'd rather be doing pushups in P.E.

A cheesy clip with the principal at the pep rally stealing the pompoms away from an unsuspecting cheerleader to “show her how it's really done” played and sent the theater into hysterics. I nodded at the video and made a sour face at Hayden; she covered her mouth and puffed it her cheeks in a puking motion.

Suddenly, she froze and grabbed her arm rest. Her eyes went wide staring at the video… no, not the video, at Mrs. Tot. Her face went through a series of troubling emotions so quickly—shock, realization, fear—it worried me.

I frowned. “Hayden?” I whispered. “You okay?”

“We need to leave.” Her voice was soft, but hoarse.

“What?”

She jumped, as if she had just realized that she'd spoken aloud. She swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. “Bathroom…” she said finally. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay.” Something was wrong, but I decided not to press her. “I'll go with.”

Hayden nodded and scurried out of her seat. I told my parents where we were going and that we'd be back soon.

I didn't know it then, but I wouldn't be seeing them again for a long time.

The hallway was a lot quieter than it had been earlier, which was kind of unsettling. I pretty much grew up at this school, but it was still downright eerie at night. It was like the quiet in a horror movie before a killer jumped out of a locker a killed the two unsuspecting teenage girls heading to the bathroom.

Okay, I chided myself. No more happy thoughts.

I walked closer to Hayden, or I tried to. Hayden speed walked so fast ahead of me, I nearly had to jog to keep up. I almost didn't notice when Hayden passed the bathrooms.

“Uh, Hayday,” I said. “The bathroom is that-a-way.”

Hayden continued to stalk ahead without a word.

I tried again. “Hayden?”

“We're leaving,” Hayden retorted, as if it were a matter-of-fact. “Just trust me.”

I froze in my tracks. We were a good ten feet from the side exit door. Hayden looked annoyed that we were stopping, but otherwise didn't say a word.

“Hayden,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

She glanced nervously behind me at the theater doors. She looked like she wanted to bolt, but instead she said, “Mrs. Tot… she–”

“Oh, you're worried about her?” I laughed dryly. “She's mad at me, not you. Don't worry about it.”

“No.” Hayden looked back at the theater door. I've never seen her so nervous before. “Listen. There's this place— a camp— my mom told me about… I don't know much about it, but I know I need to get you there. It'll be safer for the two of us. Mrs. Tot won't be able to get you.”

“You're not making any sense.”

Hayden clenched her bag. “I'll explain better later, okay? But right now we need to leave.”

“Hayden–”

“We’re wasting time!”

“We can't just leave.”

“No,” another voice said. “No, you cannot.”

Mrs. Tot stood behind us, arms crossed. I hadn't heard the theater doors open. It was as if she had just materialized there. I was expecting her to lecture us and write us up for skipping an assembly we were already attending, but she didn't look angry. She looked almost… pleased. As if we did something she bet money on us to do.

Hayden hissed and swore. But it wasn't in English, it didn’t even sound Japanese.

“You.” Hayden glared at Mrs. Tot. “I should've known.”

Mrs. Tot frowned in a mocking way. “But you can’t see everything, right? You sea-types are so predictable.”

Sea-types?

Hayden ground her teeth.

I looked between the two of them, confused. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I wanted to avoid a confrontation.

“Mrs. Tot,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “I'm sorry. We were just going—”

“Oh, I know where you were going,” Mrs. Tot spat.  ”Going to that little camp for heroes? Pah! You won't be safe there for long. Fortunately for you, this is a third offense.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out… a black whistle.

I started to say something, but thought better of it. Okay, I thought, she has a whistle. Big whoop. What's she going do? Alert the entire school so they can shame us for attempting to leave school? I mean, that sounded awful, but not harmful.

Still, a chill ran down my spine, and I had a feeling that it was much worse than that.

“Please, Mrs. Tot,” I said. “I don't… we're just—”

“Shut up!”

I flinched. Mrs. Tot was never one to yell or lose her cool. She was always calm and collected.

But the woman in front of us wasn't anything like that. Her eyes shone with a twisted, insane light.

She raised a polished finger at me. “I'm sick of you. You're like your wretched father, always making up excuses.”

“My dad?” I was started to get angry. She was pulling my parents into this crazy situation? “You don't know anything about him–”

“I know plenty,” she said curtly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she almost sounded heartbroken. “I know a lot more than the two of you.” She glowered at me. “Little Kaia… I didn't know your true identity at first, but I should have trusted my patron. I know you, and you are no threat, but my patron doesn't like to leave loose ends.”

“Look, Lady,” Hayden snapped, reaching into her bag. I didn't know what she was reaching for, but a can of mace or a club would've been nice. “I don't want to do this, but—”

“Hayden Kawaguchi,” Mrs. Tot grinned coldly. “Daughter of Thetis. I know of your divine blood. You are powerful, but even you can't defeat my patron's monsters.”

Hayden paled like she'd seen a ghost. “How do you…”

I turned to Hayden. “Thetis? What is she—”

“Kaia. Get behind me.”

I haven't heard he speak that deathly serious in so long, and it scared me.

Hayden pulled what she grabbed from out of her bag. At first I thought it was a baseball bat, even though it was too big to fit in there. She emerged it completely: a large battle axe almost as tall as she was. The blade was a blacker-than-black metal, maybe iron. The shaft was pure gold with the lower half wrapped in worn brown leather. At the base, a jewel sparkled in a million different colors. I couldn't tell if it were a ruby or an emerald or a sapphire. It should have weighed a ton, but Hayden wielded it as if it were made of paper towel rolls.

“You want a fight?” Hayden's voice was ice cold. “Then bring it.”

Mrs. Tot just smiled and put the whistle to her lips. “Time to die, little heroes.”