Chapter One
I had a stalker.
I first saw her a week ago. I'd been at my locker, looking over my shoulder for the usual trouble, when I caught her watching me from down the crowded hallway. She was tiny, not even five feet tall, and had milk chocolate skin, short, thick dreadlocks and a round, little face that made her look too young for high school. She wore horn-rim glasses over her sad puppy-dog eyes.
She didn't approach me. She didn't say anything. She just stared, looking away when I made eye contact. At first I thought this was a prelude to more of the trio's shit, but it didn't even take a second glance to tell this girl wouldn't fit in with that clique.
She wasn't quite dressed like a homeless person, but if the popular girls were to make fun of her, that's where they'd start. Her green army jacket was about two sizes too big and wrinkled enough that it looked like she stashed it at home between sofa cushions. Her black cargo pants were torn and worn, but in a way that spoke of poverty, not style. I guessed she was a new transfer, and that she saw in me a fellow outcast. Soon enough, others would warn her to keep her distance. Making friends with me was hazardous to one's social standing.
By the time I left for class, she was finally walking away, limping slightly as she favored her left leg.
I saw her at least once a day after that. She never said anything to me or anyone else for that matter. We didn't share classes, so I wasn't even sure what grade she was in. Sometimes I'd see her at the school entrance, sometimes by the bus stop. Whenever I saw her, she was looking at me.
Yesterday morning, in the hall, Sophia and Emma were being their usual bitchy selves.
"Holy shit! That zit is nasty!" said Sophia loudly enough for others to turn my way. She shoved me in the shoulder, forcing me look at her. "Don't you wash your face?" she asked.
"It looks like herpes," Emma explained, speaking as though I wasn't there. "She probably got it from all that shit in her locker. Isn't that sad? She's never even kissed a boy and she's already damaged goods."
I sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for them to leave. By a classroom door I spotted the strange girl. She was glaring at us, which I guessed meant she wasn't a fan of bullies. I did my part by not looking at her directly: the last thing she wanted was to get in the trio's sights.
After they left, I glanced at her. She had her head down as Emma and Sophia passed by, but it was obvious she was still staring at them.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" Sophia demanded and then pretended to lunge at the girl, making her flinch and drop her backpack. Sophia and Emma went on their way laughing.
I had to do something. I walked over. I was so much taller that I had to look down to talk to her.
"You should keep away from me," I said. "You don't want to deal with this shit."
She avoided my eyes, staring instead into the space beside me.
"I've . . . I've heard about . . ." She trailed off and began again. "Why do you put up with it? Why don't you stop them?"
I had to laugh. "Stop them? How? The school always sides with them over me. I can't win."
She met my eyes for just a moment and looked away. "That's bullshit," she muttered.
"No shit." I picked up her backpack, stuffed the textbooks and notebooks back in and held it out to her. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Maribel."
"Maribel, just stay away from me, okay?" I said. "It's for your own good."
Reluctantly, she gripped the backpack with her left hand and then, after a moment's hesitation, reached up with her right. The sleeve of her army coat was long enough that at first I didn't realize there was no right hand, just a prosthetic hook. She used it to zip the bag close.
I'm embarrassed to admit I stared. Maribel gave me a sad look and limped away.
That soured what turned out to be an already crappy day. It would have been nice to have a friend, or just someone to talk to about stuff. The bitches would never allow it, though. I reassured myself that I did the right thing. A handicapped, possibly autistic girl was going to get picked on enough as it was. There was no need to get splashed from the buckets of shit being dumped on me.
And I had to look at the bigger picture. I was going to be a hero. None of this mattered.
That had been yesterday. Now, I was sitting in a bathroom stall eating my brown bag lunch. The room had been empty when I locked myself in, but Maribel must have trailed me and waited outside until the others left. I could tell it was her by her slight limp. I'd been keeping my feet up so she couldn't spot me below the partitions, but her worn black shoes stopped right outside my stall door.
"I know you're in there," she said. "I . . . I need talk to you."
Anything I said would only encourage her, so I remained silent.
"T . . . Taylor. I know. I know about . . .You know what I'm talking about."
Oh, shit.
I felt a coldness in my guts. How could she know? I never controlled my bugs when others could see. I told myself not to panic. She may have been talking about the locker or something, though everyone in Winslow knew about that.
Just then, the bathroom door banged opened. I could make out giggling.
"Hey, it's that weird girl," I heard Madison say.
Another girl laughed. "Three guesses where Taylor is." That was Sophia.
Fuck me.
"No . . . wait, she's . . . she's not here," Maribel tried.
"Why are you following her around?" I heard Emma ask. "Don't you know she's a loser? Are you a loser too?"
They stepped closer. Maribel's shoes backed out of view from under the partition.
"Of course she's a loser," Sophia said. "Look at that little hook. And her gimpy leg. She's weak. Pathetic."
"Worst. Pirate. Ever," said Madison.
I saw Sophia's sneakers rush by. I heard Maribel hit the floor and cry out.
"Leave her alone!" I said. I dropped the last bite of my pita wrap to the floor and rushed to pop the lock on the door. I pushed. It wouldn't budge.
"Sophia! That's so mean!" Emma said with mock concern. She was just outside the door and must have been holding it shut.
"Hey, you saw it," said Sophia. "She tripped. It's not my fault she's a cripple."
I pushed against the door again. I kicked it. It opened about an inch and slammed shut.
"Jesus, wait your turn, Taylor," Emma said. "We haven't forgotten about you."
"Stay away from me!" Maribel cried, her voice trembling. "I'll tell the principal!"
The trio laughed.
"Blackwell doesn't listen to losers," said Emma. "Isn't that right, Taylor? Hold her down."
I heard the twist and fizz of bottles being opened, followed by the gurgle of poured liquid. Maribel began to whimper.
"Oh, my God! She's crying!" Madison said with glee.
"Let's steal her hook!" Emma suggested.
I braced my feet against the base of the toilet and used my shoulder as a battering ram. I pushed, straining my legs. Blood roared in my ears. It hurt, but the door gave way and I barged through, barely stopping myself from spilling onto the floor. Emma had stumbled backwards into the wall. I snarled at her, and for a moment she looked afraid.
This was very dramatic, very empowering, but Madison was already facing me, a big orange soda bottle in her hands. She squeezed and splashed the drink in my eyes. My glasses took the brunt of it, but it still burned.
"Fuck!" I screamed and threw a fist blindly. I think I may have knocked Madison in the side of the head, but the three were already running towards the washroom door, laughing. A tossed bottle smacked me in the face. By the time I wiped my eyes, it was just me and Maribel.
Her dreadlocks were dripping wet. Her green army coat was soaked dark purple and orange. One of them had unzipped her backpack, and peering inside I saw at least half a bottle of what smelled like cranberry juice had been dumped all over her books. Maribel was trembling, her left hand rubbing her right knee. Her eyes were red from tears.
This was too much. The buzzing at the edge of my consciousness threatened to swarm the bathroom with thousands of bugs, and I had clench my fist and take a deep breath in order to calm them down. Finally, I held out my hand to Maribel and gently pulled her to her feet. She stumbled at first, but I kept an arm around her back until it looked like she could stand on her own.
"Are you all right?" I asked. When she didn't say anything, but only glared at the bathroom door, I added, "I'm sorry. You probably should-"
"I used to think she was cool," Maribel said.
That threw me off. "Wait, what? Who?"
"Shadow Stalker," Maribel said. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. "Sophia. She's Shadow Stalker."
"Really?" I said flatly, not quite hiding the doubt in my voice. Well, whether Maribel was delusional or not, she didn't deserve what had happened to her. I went to the counter and rolled out two fistfuls of paper towels. I handed one to her. The other I used to wipe my face and glasses.
Maribel shrugged as she wiped her glasses. She then padded at her hair.
"Probably," she said. "She has Shadow Stalker's powers, anyway."
I felt an unease. With the trio's surprise juice attack, I'd nearly forgotten what Maribel had said about knowing something.
"How do you know this?" I asked.
"I can sense powers. Even with my eyes closed." Grinning slightly, she leaned towards me and whispered, "It's the same way I know you can control bugs."
So there it was. That cold dread in my guts returned, though I don't think I could say I was actually afraid.
"Ah," I said lamely, my mind reeling from the revelation. Sophia was Shadow Stalker. Former vigilante turned Ward. That explained . . . everything. Fuck you, Winslow. Fuck you, PRT.
"That's not all I can do," she said. "Reach out to your bugs. As far as you can."
I didn't really have to. I didn't have to consciously think about them, they were just there in my mind, waiting. But I focused on them, controlling and sensing through every one of the millions of bugs in the school and the surrounding area . . .
The bugs farthest away vanished first, followed by the ones next farthest, and then the wall of darkness drew in closer and closer. My power's two and a half block range was suddenly and quickly shrinking. After a few seconds, I controlled nothing except my own body. It was like a light had gone out of my head.
I automatically stepped away from her. Was this permanent? I was scared to ask. "Wh-what did you . . . ?"
She seemed to be barely paying attention as she wiped at her stained coat. "Don't worry. I can bring it back. I can also do this."
And then the bugs were back. And then there were more bugs. And more. I don't know how much her power magnified my range, but it was too much. I grabbed my head. I may have cried out, and I ambled forward and fell against the sink counter top. It wasn't as bad as the sensory overload in the locker, but it still hurt my poor brain.
The range dialed back to maybe a little above normal. I became aware that Maribel was hugging me around the waist.
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" She was on the verge of crying again. "I just wanted to show off. I was stupid. I should have warned you. Are you all right? Please say you're all right!"
"I'm all right," I said. I pushed myself up from the counter. I had a splitting headache, but it was fading fast. "So . . . you're a trump?" I asked.
She pulled away, her hook snagging on my brown hooded sweatshirt, and nodded. "Yeah, and I was sort of wondering if . . . well, if we could be friends."