CHAPTER 6: ADRENALINE
She attempted to maintain a serious expression as she sat on his bedroom floor with one ankle over the other, an open notebook with various beginner phrases in the space between them. She had an objective of teaching this fool something, but a good and long hour had passed in trying to modify his foreign accent. She had seen the academic accolades (the amount almost rivaled hers) amongst the sports trophies in his living room, so he should be capable of following her instruction.
"Okay, again. Repeat after me. Bonjour. Je m'apelle Chad Dickson."
"Bonjour. Je m'apelle Chad Dickson," he said, albeit pathetically.
Maybe language wasn't for everyone.
She wasn't sure whether or not he was messing with her. Listening to him speak at this moment was like listening to a drunk Fanny attempt to speak in her 'American' accent. Unnatural would be the best word to describe that occurrence, but at least it was entertaining. This, on the other hand, was painful.
"Your accent is hopeless," she replied dryly, urging him to try again with a different phrase from the notebook.
His face read with a mixture of both slyness and endearment, and from that, it was clear as day he didn't actually intend to learn a new language. Her own expression was about to break from its humorlessness. She knew he was trying to stir a different kind of reaction from her.
Rachel felt his eyes linger on her without interruption. It was as if he'd never seen anyone in a school uniform before. Her navy blue tie hung loosely around her neck and the top three buttons of her blouse were undone.
"I'm in tutor mode. Quit looking at me like that."
Chad smirked. Moving the notebook dividing them onto his nightstand, he scooted to his right and entered her personal space.
"I can't help it. I haven't seen you in a week. You're in a skirt and playing teacher? Kinda killing me here."
Oh, teenage boys.
As pleased as she was by the kind of attention he was giving her, she put up a very obviously fake stern front and peered down at her dark plaid skirt. "I find it sad how, as your tutor, I can't feel comfortable in my clothes because you're preoccupied with my knees. I'll make sure to come in a burlap sack next time."
"Ah, but at least you admit you're willing to come back. Trust me, I'm a lost cause. I need all the help I can get."
His smirk was unyielding, and his hand found its way on her bare left knee. She slapped it away, causing him to withdraw and frown.
"Hey! I'm here for the sole purpose in getting the volunteer hours you said you'd sign me off on. I'm determined that you get something in return for my services." Rachel snickered in her head at the absurdity of the situation.
Chad didn't even take French at his school, but it was a good and valid Thursday alibi for her parents. It was getting harder sneaking around with the workload of the advancing academic year.
"My fault for being distracted." He pulled her over, allowing her to straddle him. Placing her hands on his chest without reluctance, he began to undo a few more buttons on her blouse. "I assure you I am getting something in return. With that being said, I can show you something else that's French I know I'm quite knowledgeable in."
"If you start quoting Lady Marmalade, I really am leaving and never coming back," Rachel quipped and softly laughed, as she felt his warm breath on her skin, followed by his lips.
The fluttery kisses made her stomach perform flip flops that she welcomed eagerly, and she let out a pleasured gasp. She felt the self-control gradually leave her body.
"Hmm, wait. Let me try something, so you don't think today was a total loss. Je suis désolé, mademoiselle. Je promets que je ferai mieux mieux la prochaine fois (1)," he managed to murmur fluently, as his fingers trailed up her outer thighs and he continued to place more kisses on the side of her throat.
She halted the contact between his mouth and her neck. She wasn't surprised. "You jerk. You lured me here and played stupid."
"I promise it's the only thing I know how to say. Also, you're adorable when you're frustrated," he retorted.
"Do you try to piss your teachers off like this too, you smartass?" she laughed.
Chad pretended to look thoughtful, but he shook his head. "Only the hot ones sitting on my lap."
"Where'd you learn to say that then?"
"I dated this exchange student last year–"
Rachel's playful glare turned into one laced with warning.
He chuckled when he realized it was a joke in bad taste, with her on top of him and all. He attempted to fix it before he was better off chasing her away with the lyrics of the song from Moulin Rouge.
"I'm kidding. Did you know Luigi is actually French? Funny really. French guy with an Italian name who owns an Italian restaurant."
"Shut up and finish what you started, you dope," she commanded, surprised that she could be so assertive in this way. With her fingers entangling in the softness of his hair, she didn't fail to take notice of the bounding heartbeat in her chest in anticipation of what was to come next.
"Oui."
Her newfound confidence excited him, giving him no qualms in following her order. The advancements in their relationship also made Chad quite happy; barriers had been shattered and there were no secrets between them. The new Rachel McKenzie brought things to the table that he hadn't known of her in their first few months together: the wild look in her eyes, the heat of her touch, and the way she hungrily kissed him when she wanted him.
Maybe she was wrong in calling him troublesome that first night and on even more occasions, because right now, trouble looked like untamed perfection mounted on his lap.
She tasted like cherries.
The lip lock was passionate enough that they could feel the moment in their bones. Without breaking contact, he lifted both of them off the floor and on to his bed. With such a long week regarding college applications and orders from his boss, this was warranted.
Buzz. Ring. Buzz. Ring.
"Mm," she broke off their kiss. "You wanna get that?"
"No, it's probably about something really stupid," he said in between breaths, in continuation of that something French he promised her.
He would be damned if he let Cavallero interrupt this moment just because the slushie machines at the hideout were busted. Or if Father sent him on another rice pudding run for Grandfather.
Screw that.
Buzz. Ring. Buzz. Ring.
They ignored the second series of alerts when she flipped them over to regain control. Her nails lightly grazed the skin under his shirt. He could've been a goner…
Buzz. Ring. Buzz. Ring.
"Shit," Chad cursed. He was irritated. He stared at the flustered and flushed girl, who reluctantly crawled off and allowed him to move to tend to the call.
"You could not have called at a worse time," he answered angrily, his cellphone gripped tightly in his hand. "What in the damn hell is so important that you have to keep calling, Justin?"
"Dude–"
Rachel watched Chad become even more frustrated and annoyed as Justin explained something in frantic speed that she could not comprehend if she had even tried. It probably had something to do with those undisciplined kids, right? Her curiosity grew, as it had continued to since her froyo date with Abigail.
He frustratingly hung up the phone and looked at her with his very blue and even more disappointed eyes.
"Have to cut the study date short today. There's an emergency going on that the other guy I work for deems important at school. I'll drive you home quickly first though."
It didn't take long for Rachel to contemplate her question.
"Is it cool if I come with? You said you'd tell me everything when the time came, but maybe it's better if I saw what you do up close? I'll watch from your car."
Chad motioned to her fully unfastened shirt, once again sporting a smirk. "It would be my pleasure to take you a field trip of sorts, but you have to cover up all of that. Not letting any of those losers get a peek at my schoolgirl fantasy. Absolutely not."
"I think that goes without saying, but thanks for the advice," she murmured as she started making herself look decent once again, her cheeks redder than a flame.
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His blue SUV was officially parked on the seemingly quiet outer bounds of McClintock High School's parking lot.
There was no doubt in her mind that she would feel out of place if she exited Chad's car dressed in her uniform, more covered up than usual, thanks to his grey hoodie. The oversized fabric almost reached the length of her skirt, four inches above her knee.
Rachel inhaled, quite a bit apprehensive, in the shotgun passenger seat.
Chad looked over to her and placed a comforting hand on her thigh. "Hey. You don't have to be nervous," he reassured. "This one is gonna be a quickie. Best case scenario, all you have to do is sit here and wait for me to get back in."
"And the worst case scenario?" she inquired half-joking, half serious. She crossed her arms in their baggy sleeved glory.
He looked thoughtful, sensing the vibration of the KND operatives about to emerge from the building. He disliked having to ask her of this. It wouldn't have been like this if he still talked to their usual getaway driver…
"You might have to be my getaway driver. But driving lessons have been going great, so it's fine. I have faith in your abilities if it had to boil down to that."
"WHAT?!" Rachel looked incredulous. "You only taught me not to floor the accelerator and how to make right turns."
"You might have to floor it and make left turns."
How could he even make comments like that at a time like this?
With those words, the same group of kids Rachel recognized as Fanny's younger brothers (seriously, where were Mr. and Mrs. Fulbright?), their friends, and Chad's classmates, burst out of the double doors of the school. The young blonde and only girl of that group of kids held a white box protectively in her arms.
"They're here. And I have to get that box back from them," Chad explained. "Just wait for me and Justin here in the driver's seat."
"Okay." She realized there was no time for nervousness in this situation. She moved over to the left seat and watched him open his door to leave.
Watching Chad activate his armor and take off, she pondered on the white box he and the others are hellbent on taking back. She also thought about the words law enforcement and out of control. This was out of her world.
Rachel knew for a fact Abigail implied something deeper than what Chad described to her during their conversation. From her current point of view, however, it almost seemed like both sides, teens and kids, were fighting for something. It wasn't a fight of blind delinquency. She acknowledged not understanding an ounce of what they're were yelling about from the open car window, but she knew this definitely was not an issue in relation to being out of control.
What on earth was a recommissioning module?
She buried the question, because it had nothing to do with her.
In the end, there was one side, another side, and the truth.
Her belief in Chad led her to see things from his perspective.
Currently, from her perspective… the events she witnessed unfold were terrifying.
Smoke was forming from the use of lasers, canons, and the much-needed backup from their football team, but ultimately, Chad and Justin emerged from the dust with that box.
By the time they made it back to her, she was quick to make work and floor the damn gas pedal.
Tunnel vision and a bunch of garbled directions from Justin overtook her senses.
No words could describe the adrenaline rush through her veins. She didn't think anything could ever compare to this. Rachel couldn't recall a memory ever bringing her heart this much nervousness and excitement at the same time.
She absolutely loved it.
It was like flying. Was… the car actually flying? She couldn't tell.
If this was what driving at 120 mph could do, what else could she do to emulate the rush?
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Rachel eventually came down from her high and approached a base of sorts, scratching her head and looking over to Chad. "Uh? This is an 8-Twelve."
"I know. Just sit with us on the curb a bit," he whispered, box under his right arm tucked away like a football.
She followed suit.
Whiplash was what she received in return, before she the ideal setting of the quintessential teenager graced her view. Huge stereos with screens to match, a place to skateboard, a corner for refreshments, a bunch of people her age just… hanging and chilling out? Rachel didn't have it in her to be overwhelmed, still wondering if she could wake up from the bizarreness of the day's events.
"DUDES AND GIRL DUDES! MISSION TODAY WENT OFF WITHOUT A HITCH. IT WAS AWESOME," Cavallero cheered to those present in the hideout. "All thanks to Chad's very cool girlfriend."
Justin gave her a high five before walking off to mingle with a cheerleader standing by.
The blond boy standing next to her gave her an awkward smile. She could feel his discontent.
"What?"
"I… just kind of feel like an asshole from dropping that getaway driver thing on you last minute. I should've just driven you home. I didn't realize we parked to close to where those kids were gonna come out."
Rachel shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'll admit I was terrified. I didn't even have time to be angry with you. In the end… I felt great. I'd never done anything like that before. I'd also actually think I'm going to pass my road test now, thanks to you," she added a joke, in an attempt to lift his mood.
Chad took her hand in his and he gave her a more genuine smile, but not one of those beaming ones she loved. "Calm down, tiger. You haven't even learned how to parallel park yet."
"What is really bothering you?" she asked.
He shook his head out of denial, unable to shake off a figurative tightness in his gut. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're okay."
"I think you're afraid Justin has a crush on me and is going to sweep me off my feet with the praise he's spreading over there through word of mouth," Rachel teased. She received a wave from the pale boy.
"Don't joke like that," Chad said unamused. He didn't like the attention she was getting from the different cliques. Good thing she was covered up.
In his scan of the hideout, a face he has not spoken to in weeks was absent. He made a mental note to text Maurice after dropping Rachel off home.
The small package would stay safe with him, until his next meeting with Father.
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Rachel closed the front door as lightly as could, hoping not to alert her parents and disturb them from their dinner. According to the watch in her wrist, she technically still had an hour until curfew. It wasn't like she was partying. This time, anyways. Speaking to her parents after doing something she technically had no business doing never stopped her from feeling the small itch of discomfort.
"MOM! DAD! Rachel is home," Harvey bellowed from the living room, about to run up the stairs to his room.
"What the heck, Harvey?" She glared at his back and continued to whisper, "See if I'll cover for you next time you get caught TPing someone's house and the cops have to bring you home again!"
"Sorry, sis! They told me to keep an eye out for you. Sounded pretty serious."
Rachel rolled her eyes. Their agreement to look out for each other is shot to hell if they bribed him to be on the constant lookout.
He caught her going inside of a stranger's car in the summer, and well, the toilet paper incident in July evened out their playing field.
Sellout!
Their mother peeked her head from the dining room. Luckily for Harvey, she missed the warning intended for her son. "Come. Your father and I have been waiting for you. We want to talk."
Rachel felt a lump form in her throat. Did they know something? Had she been exposed? All she thought to do was deny, deny, deny until they had solid evidence of anything.
George sat at the end of the table, looking at her with all the seriousness of the world – maybe even the universe.
She and her mother, Kathleen, both took seats on each of his sides.
"So what is so important that you both had Harvey on high alert for me?"
"We want to talk about responsibility," George began.
Rachel narrowed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows. This spiel? Again? She had hoped to just nap, after all the action and adrenaline the day had given her, and set an alarm up for three in the morning to her homework.
Kathleen noticed the look of perplexity her daughter wore. "When your father says responsible, he and I don't mean just being a good, well-behaved girl for us."
"I trust you are still following the rules of the house, doll," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Correct?"
She didn't look away. If she did, that made her a liar. "Of course. Is there any reason I have given you to doubt me?"
Her parents looked at each other and then back at her. There was an air of suspicion floating in the dining room. It instantly placed Rachel on an edge.
"Okay, with your silence, I take it that I have not, and everything is fine. This was just your monthly reminder to make sure I was on top of my duties." Rachel pushed her seat back in preparation to leave. They heard the screech of the chair's legs create friction against the wooden floor. "I am going to go upstairs and get a start on my homework."
"Rachel Theresa McKenzie. Sit. Down. This is important," Kathleen ordered firmly. "We are still going to talk about responsibility, in terms of being responsible with yourself."
Where was this conversation going?
"I went to the grocery store today and saw your English teacher, Mrs. Finnerty. She said some interesting, yet questionable things about your performance in her class."
"Oh… ?"
George was the one to explain this time. "Apparently, you've been distracted lately. Handed three assignments in late within the last two weeks. We're trying to figure out why that is, doll. Don't feel threatened."
"If you need to talk about any concerns or anything that's been bothering you, we can arrange for you to talk to Dr. Sharp again," her mother suggested.
"No!" Rachel snapped. "I'm sorry, but no, not that quack again. I just need a little space is all. I'm a junior in high school now with quite a bit of extracurriculars. It's the busiest year of all the four because colleges look at what you've accomplished this particular year. I don't need my parents hovering over me because of three assignments. It won't happen again."
Both adults were taken aback by her biting tone, confused themselves on why and how their daughter's routine wasn't as efficient as it once was.
"You haven't shown us this side of you since before your accident. We're worried about you," Kathleen said. "Maybe you could cut down on the volunteer service for now and take a break. Focus on school and yourself."
"It's fine. I can handle it." Rachel recomposed herself, before saying one final thing to address the topic. "Just… don't call Dr. Sharp. Therapy did not and will not help. You both know I have holes in my memory. I can barely remember half of my life before I turned twelve. So please just cut me some slack. I'm absolutely exhausted."
Her father relented, giving her the benefit of the doubt. "Very well. Have some dinner and rest up."
The older McKenzie woman held her tongue and doesn't even comment on the button that was one place off on Rachel's blouse, hoping her perfect daughter would just be herself soon. If fatigue was the cause of her little rut, it would definitely resolve itself with proper rest.
Later in the night, Rachel woke up before she could give her cellphone the chance to activate the vibrating alarm under her pillow. She took a breath, a feeling of wellness overtaking her.
The lights in her bathroom didn't soothe the bounding ache, and neither did the cool water she used to splash on her face. It wasn't often she woke up with a killer migraine paired with unusual dreams.
"RACHEL!" It was only her name, but it was her boyfriend's voice that reverberated, heavy with worry amongst other things. Sadness. Anger. Panic. Hysterics. Desperation. Distraught. The dream itself was not full of the best imagery, but a whole lot of dark blanks and blurs instead.
It wasn't something she decided to linger on for too long. Dream interpretation and all that mumbo jumbo wouldn't write a killer debate speech. She had five hours to compose an introduction, points for rebuttal, and a summation statement. Although, she also had her lunch period.
She needed ibuprofen, nonetheless.
And when the headache finally went away, a drink or two (or three) wouldn't hurt.
Therapy, she scoffed at the thought, could honestly kiss her ass.
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When he pulled up on Maurice's driveway, he was already there sitting on the porch steps with a textbook next to his person, notebook and calculator on his lap, and pencil in hand. The light at the front exterior of the house illuminated their surroundings as the autumn weather made the sun set just a bit too early.
"Hey," Chad greeted neutrally.
"Hey."
A minute silence fell between the two boys, but there was no need to be verbal regarding the bad blood that had lifted. The time that had passed since Cavallero's semester start party had killed any hostility. Chad also decided to follow Rachel's advice and not hold a grudge. At the end of the day, Maurice had always been that to him – a good friend. There was no need to drag out the drama any longer.
"Cavallero didn't call you with that emergency today?"
Maurice turned his head up to him, closing the books and putting them away in his school bag. "He did. But we got that calculus test tomorrow, man. You know I'm no good with this shit."
"Ugh, I almost forgot. Hudson's a mean grader. Good luck on getting all those points. That no partial-credit thing pisses me off. I didn't deserve that B- last pop quiz."
He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Ah, shut it. I can't even get a B-. So uh. How's life? How's Rachel?"
Chad sat next down to him, placing his cold hands in his hoodie pocket. "Depends on how you look at my life. Are you gonna give me more vague reasons on why I shouldn't be going out with her? You sure you wanna know?"
"Of course I do. I felt like shit after the party, alright? I owe you and Rachel apologies. You know Cree's little sister? She told me they do volunteer work together at the children's hospital."
"Yeah, I know…" he paused to smirk, sidetracked by something else. "Wait. What are you doing talking to a sophomore? Not to mention, your ex's sister?"
Maurice rolled his eyes again and shook his head. "Get your mind out the gutter. Abby is like a sister to me and she has a boyfriend. You forget the Lincolns are family friends."
"Whatever you say."
"You're a smug bastard," Maurice snickered. "I hope you're not being too much of a bad influence on your girl."
"I'd like to think that I'm not, but she did come to help out on the mission today. She actually took over your role. On her own, no influence whatsoever. Curiosity is gonna kill the cat one of these days."
Maurice exhaled lightly, unsure of how to reply to that statement without sounding judgmental, similar to the night of the party. This was exactly what he was trying to prevent from the get-go. Numbuh 274 would deem him a failure for not going out of his way for sabotaging his relationship.
Damn it.
Chad broke his train of thought. "Is it kind of weird I don't want her involved in any of this?" He was unsure whether he was asking himself or the boy next to him.
"Oh? What makes you say that?" he asked. Hope began to brew in him, hope that Rachel wouldn't be caught up in any of this. It would be extremely lucky, and he would lay this situation to rest.
"I mean, I wanted this in the beginning – for her to be part of the ninjas. But she's perfect. Kind of… don't want to mess that up. We were messing around in my car last week and–"
"Woah woah woah, I don't need to hear this! Too much information. Keep that shit to yourself, man," Maurice interrupted, about to place his pointer fingers in his ears.
Oh God.
It was worse last year with some of the conquests Chad had, but he would be damned if he had to hear about Rachel too. He drew the line with her. No way in hell would he be here for that. Like Abby, Numbuh 362 had been like a sister to him, knowing her (and Chad) since his very own days in Sector V.
"Your turn to get your mind out the gutter! I'm not going into detail about that. I'm talking about this surgical scar she has on the back of her neck," he explained. "She was involved in some sort of freak accident a couple of years ago. She doesn't even remember much about it. I just… don't want her to be in any position where she's hurt like that. Ever. You and me? We've been doing this for years, but she hasn't."
Maurice felt nostalgic as he looked up to the sky, a cloudless and clear view of the moon displayed. Moonbase was as clear to him as ever. There wasn't much that he could say without revealing the details of that day to Chad. He chuckled instead.
"Wow. Chad Dickson being overly concerned about his new lady love. Father is gonna hate that his number one recruiter isn't using his talents anymore, which I'm glad for. I don't need to do any more damage control with those crying freshmen."
"I don't give a crap about that, don't give a crap about what Father thinks either," Chad said with a small smile on his face. "Rachel… she's special. I honestly have no idea how I ended up with her."
Would it really be horrible for them to have each other in their own respective lives again? Chad was constantly distracted from doing any dirty work properly as of current, and as long as he had doubts in allowing Rachel to be any part of the Teen Ninjas in relation to her safety, would she truly be in any danger? He would have to revise his prior plan for intervention, and so did Abby.
Nevertheless, with that admission and lingering indecision, Maurice's promise to an old friend in keeping the two apart was officially broken.
A text alert took him away from his thoughts.
'Chad has the broken recommissioning module. Most likely delivering to Father tomorrow afternoon.'
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(1) The phrase means: I promise I'll do better next time.