Chapter Three:
We have two bike racks at our school. One, the only one every really used, is out front, near where the buses come in. Kids are always getting in trouble for riding their bikes too fast, too near the buses. When not swarmed by all the cyclists in the school, it's a popular hangout for the more troublesome crowd. A cloud of cigarette smoke clings to it like an ugly ghost.
I wasn't looking at Cassie's face when I told her to meet me at the bike rack, but I'm sure she was surprised.
As school let out, I faithfully headed to the bike rack.
The other bike rack.
Rack number two is on the edge of the back faculty parking lot. It used to be out front. One winter, our school custodian was plowing the parking lot and he mangled it beyond repair. For tax and paperwork and union reasons, the school couldn't just trash the old rack. So they paid some student thirty bucks to hacksaw it off the concrete and move it back to rear of the building. It was rusty, twisted, and ugly. Most freshmen mistook it for garbage from when our school was expanding.
A van obscured my view of the bike rack. I couldn't see if Jake and Cassie were there, but I crossed my fingers and hoped they weren't. That way, I could honor my agreement to go to the rack after school, but I still wouldn't have to talk to Jake about the party.
You may be wondering why I was so anxious to avoid the conversation. To be honest, I was wondering that myself.
It basically boils down to this: I didn't want to look scared.
For the first week after we had been infested, Cassie and I were both really skittish. Everything looked like a Yeerk trap, everyone was a Controller. I passed up an opportunity to go on a fifty-dollar spending spree in the mall. Me. I did. Because I figured they would infest me at American Eagle. I had shown myself to be weak, and I needed to kill that image. Like Jake had said, it was understandable. That didn't make it acceptable. On our little team, it's my job to be the tough one. I hadn't been tough. I intended to start again.
That was why I didn't want to talk to Jake. I didn't want to go crying to him. "Oh, Jake, boo-hoo, I'm scared 'cause my baby sister wants to go to a party!" Not the Rachel I wanted people to see. Not the Rachel I wanted to be.
Cassie was still leery of everything. I had come out of my fear quicker, because I had to. Cassie can afford to be sensitive and to need time to heal. That's her job.
Not me. Nope, it's the Bounce-Back-Rachel, with the all-new Karate-Chop Action! Xena can't show a moment of weakness, or else all of civilization as we know it comes crashing down around her ears.
Yeah, just a little bitter here.
Occasionally, you need some time to heal. I hadn't gotten any.
I eyed the van in front of me with a frown. With any luck whatsoever, Cassie and Jake wouldn't realize that I had meant this other bike rack. I mean, nobody ever talked about it, or thought about it. There would be absolutely no reason for Cassie to come here.
"Hi, Rachel!"
Sometimes I really hate how well Cassie knows me.
"Hi, Cassie. Hi, Jake."
"Hey," Jake said. He was sitting on the rack, kicking his feet slowly. "So, what's the problem, Rachel?" He spoke slowly, patiently, like he was waiting for a burst of rage or tears.
Obviously, Cassie had prepped him for this little get-together.
I gave him neither anger nor sorrow. "There's no problem," I began. "It's just this dumb argument Jordan and I are having."
"What argument?"
"She wants to go to a party . . . "
"A *Megan*-party," Cassie interjected.
" . . . and I don't think she should." I shrugged, like I could care less. "It's no big deal. Cassie was overreacting a little, that's all."
Cassie gave me a reproachful look for that. Jake swung his big feet again, then looked over at Cassie. In exactly the same tone he had addressed me, he said, "So, what's the problem, Cassie?"
"The problem is," she said, pouncing on the invitation to make her point, "that this party is dangerous. Not just because it could be a Yeerk trap," she added hastily, "but because even normal parties of this nature are damaging. You know what happens at a Megan-party, Jake."
"Yeah," he said. He was silent for a minute. "So the concern here is that Jordan will either get infested or get addicted. Neither of which we want."
"Basically," Cassie said.
"Rachel?" Jake asked.
"Yeah," I grunted. "That's pretty much it."
"Okay. I'll talk to Erek and find out if Megan is a Controller. If she is, we go in all bears roaring." He smiled at me. "If she's not, we let Rachel handle it. Sound good?"
"Fine," I affirmed.
Cassie shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I guess," she said tentatively.
"Good," said Jake. "I'll just call Erek and we can meet up tonight in the barn, if she is." He slid off the bike rack, then paused. "Oh, no, wait. Today's Monday."
"So?"
"Erek's doing volunteer work at that big animal shelter outside of town. They're having an Adopt-A-Thon. The place is gonna be a zoo. No pun intended."
"We can't call and ask for him?" Cassie probed.
Jake shook his head. "Erek said we won't be able to get in touch with him at all."
"Well, we can ask Mr. King, right?"
For the slow students: Erek the Chee is an ancient android that goes to our high school. The Chee came to the neighborhood back in, oh, the caveman days. They use highly sophisticated hologram technology to look like normal people. Every Chee has lived hundreds or thousands of human lives. The Chee replace us during extended missions, like when we're starving slugs out of our heads. They also keep tabs on pretty much everything the Yeerks do. Mr. King is the current name of the android that is playing the role of Erek's dad. Got it? Good.
"No, he's on a business trip. And we don't know for sure who the other Chee are. I'll call him tonight, but I probably won't be able to get back to you until school tomorrow."
"Fine," I shrugged. "Are we done?"
"Yeah, we're done," Jake said.
"Good." I turned and walked away.
"Hey, Rachel?" Jake called.
I turned impatiently. "Yeah?"
"You're not weak."
I guess I'm not the best at hiding my feelings. Unlike Jake or Ax or even Marco, I can't just pretend away my frustration. I couldn't just make them believe that I wasn't ashamed of how useless I'd been during the last mission. How helpless.
"That's the point, Jake. I'm not weak."
We have two bike racks at our school. One, the only one every really used, is out front, near where the buses come in. Kids are always getting in trouble for riding their bikes too fast, too near the buses. When not swarmed by all the cyclists in the school, it's a popular hangout for the more troublesome crowd. A cloud of cigarette smoke clings to it like an ugly ghost.
I wasn't looking at Cassie's face when I told her to meet me at the bike rack, but I'm sure she was surprised.
As school let out, I faithfully headed to the bike rack.
The other bike rack.
Rack number two is on the edge of the back faculty parking lot. It used to be out front. One winter, our school custodian was plowing the parking lot and he mangled it beyond repair. For tax and paperwork and union reasons, the school couldn't just trash the old rack. So they paid some student thirty bucks to hacksaw it off the concrete and move it back to rear of the building. It was rusty, twisted, and ugly. Most freshmen mistook it for garbage from when our school was expanding.
A van obscured my view of the bike rack. I couldn't see if Jake and Cassie were there, but I crossed my fingers and hoped they weren't. That way, I could honor my agreement to go to the rack after school, but I still wouldn't have to talk to Jake about the party.
You may be wondering why I was so anxious to avoid the conversation. To be honest, I was wondering that myself.
It basically boils down to this: I didn't want to look scared.
For the first week after we had been infested, Cassie and I were both really skittish. Everything looked like a Yeerk trap, everyone was a Controller. I passed up an opportunity to go on a fifty-dollar spending spree in the mall. Me. I did. Because I figured they would infest me at American Eagle. I had shown myself to be weak, and I needed to kill that image. Like Jake had said, it was understandable. That didn't make it acceptable. On our little team, it's my job to be the tough one. I hadn't been tough. I intended to start again.
That was why I didn't want to talk to Jake. I didn't want to go crying to him. "Oh, Jake, boo-hoo, I'm scared 'cause my baby sister wants to go to a party!" Not the Rachel I wanted people to see. Not the Rachel I wanted to be.
Cassie was still leery of everything. I had come out of my fear quicker, because I had to. Cassie can afford to be sensitive and to need time to heal. That's her job.
Not me. Nope, it's the Bounce-Back-Rachel, with the all-new Karate-Chop Action! Xena can't show a moment of weakness, or else all of civilization as we know it comes crashing down around her ears.
Yeah, just a little bitter here.
Occasionally, you need some time to heal. I hadn't gotten any.
I eyed the van in front of me with a frown. With any luck whatsoever, Cassie and Jake wouldn't realize that I had meant this other bike rack. I mean, nobody ever talked about it, or thought about it. There would be absolutely no reason for Cassie to come here.
"Hi, Rachel!"
Sometimes I really hate how well Cassie knows me.
"Hi, Cassie. Hi, Jake."
"Hey," Jake said. He was sitting on the rack, kicking his feet slowly. "So, what's the problem, Rachel?" He spoke slowly, patiently, like he was waiting for a burst of rage or tears.
Obviously, Cassie had prepped him for this little get-together.
I gave him neither anger nor sorrow. "There's no problem," I began. "It's just this dumb argument Jordan and I are having."
"What argument?"
"She wants to go to a party . . . "
"A *Megan*-party," Cassie interjected.
" . . . and I don't think she should." I shrugged, like I could care less. "It's no big deal. Cassie was overreacting a little, that's all."
Cassie gave me a reproachful look for that. Jake swung his big feet again, then looked over at Cassie. In exactly the same tone he had addressed me, he said, "So, what's the problem, Cassie?"
"The problem is," she said, pouncing on the invitation to make her point, "that this party is dangerous. Not just because it could be a Yeerk trap," she added hastily, "but because even normal parties of this nature are damaging. You know what happens at a Megan-party, Jake."
"Yeah," he said. He was silent for a minute. "So the concern here is that Jordan will either get infested or get addicted. Neither of which we want."
"Basically," Cassie said.
"Rachel?" Jake asked.
"Yeah," I grunted. "That's pretty much it."
"Okay. I'll talk to Erek and find out if Megan is a Controller. If she is, we go in all bears roaring." He smiled at me. "If she's not, we let Rachel handle it. Sound good?"
"Fine," I affirmed.
Cassie shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I guess," she said tentatively.
"Good," said Jake. "I'll just call Erek and we can meet up tonight in the barn, if she is." He slid off the bike rack, then paused. "Oh, no, wait. Today's Monday."
"So?"
"Erek's doing volunteer work at that big animal shelter outside of town. They're having an Adopt-A-Thon. The place is gonna be a zoo. No pun intended."
"We can't call and ask for him?" Cassie probed.
Jake shook his head. "Erek said we won't be able to get in touch with him at all."
"Well, we can ask Mr. King, right?"
For the slow students: Erek the Chee is an ancient android that goes to our high school. The Chee came to the neighborhood back in, oh, the caveman days. They use highly sophisticated hologram technology to look like normal people. Every Chee has lived hundreds or thousands of human lives. The Chee replace us during extended missions, like when we're starving slugs out of our heads. They also keep tabs on pretty much everything the Yeerks do. Mr. King is the current name of the android that is playing the role of Erek's dad. Got it? Good.
"No, he's on a business trip. And we don't know for sure who the other Chee are. I'll call him tonight, but I probably won't be able to get back to you until school tomorrow."
"Fine," I shrugged. "Are we done?"
"Yeah, we're done," Jake said.
"Good." I turned and walked away.
"Hey, Rachel?" Jake called.
I turned impatiently. "Yeah?"
"You're not weak."
I guess I'm not the best at hiding my feelings. Unlike Jake or Ax or even Marco, I can't just pretend away my frustration. I couldn't just make them believe that I wasn't ashamed of how useless I'd been during the last mission. How helpless.
"That's the point, Jake. I'm not weak."
