Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1)

Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1) Page 29

Chapter 20

I couldn't rid myself of the knot sitting like a lead weight in my stomach the next day. I wondered how many people in the school had seen Nyte's video and put the pieces together even though Nyte had thankfully left out names and his account wasn't associated with his true identity. No telling how many people Nyte had shown it to. Just what I needed: a video showing how inhuman I was.

Then my stomach welcomed a fresh shock to the system. I had given a urine and blood sample to the nurse yesterday. What if I really wasn't human? What kind of results would they get back?

Oh my God.

This was trouble. I had to swap those samples with someone else's. Maybe I could talk Ash or Nyte into giving up some bodily fluids for my sake. I'd have to lie and tell them I was on steroids or purple drank though.

I skipped the gymnasium and rushed to the nurse's office. The little old lady wasn't there. Instead, an oxymoron gazed sleepily at me.

"Yeah?" said the male nurse. He was a tall heavy-set guy with tiny eyes and a blimp for a head. I couldn't understand how anyone in the healthcare industry would let themselves go like that. He had to be pushing three-hundred pounds.

"I left some, uh, fluid samples here yesterday, and I was wondering if they were still here."

"Nah. Nurse Godwin took all that to the lab this morning. She'll be back soon with the results, so I wouldn't sweat it."

Sweat broke out on my forehead. "Where is this lab?" I asked, my voice notching into a panicked squeak.

His eyes narrowed. "Something you're worried about?"

My mind grasped frantically for some excuse. "I ate powdered bull testicle, and someone told me it would jack up my testosterone levels. I'm afraid it might show up bad on my test."

His eyes relaxed and he laughed. "Those homeopathic remedies are so fake, dude. You don't have a thing to worry about. Besides, they started the drug screening tests at five this morning so they're probably all done."

I bit back a string of inventive curses but let them find a home in my mind in case the need for such atrocities ever arose again. I left the office. Instead of going to the gymnasium where trouble always found me, I snuck into my homeroom class and sat very still, hoping Mr. Herman wouldn't look up from the large mural he was painting on the wall. It looked like Sonny and Cher in full seventies regalia. He turned his head, as if pure animal instinct had told him I was at his back. I was, I realized with a jolt, a predator in every sense of the word. True, I didn't prey on men. Although I had fed on those guys in the bathroom. It had just been laughter, though, no kissing. Surely that didn't put my sexual preferences into question, did it? I shuddered.

"Congratulations," he said, then turned back to painting.

"For what?"

"For laying out that punk Nathan Spelman. I can't tell that inbred gorilla to do anything. He's got the collective head of the administration up his fat ass."

"Laying him out?"

He chuckled. "I saw the video. I was watching a Deep Purple video when a colleague sent me the link."

Oh no. Nyte, I'm going to kill you.

I started sweating again. "How did you know it was me?"

He put down the paintbrush and turned to look at me again. "The faculty knows about your punishment. Those idiots in the main office can't keep anything a secret from us. I figured you'd be in crutches next time I saw you."

"Is there anything I can do to stop them from making me play football?"

"This is the South, kid. It isn't progressive California or the great white north where basketball is king. These good old boys have got you by your young boys whether you like it or not."

"Can you teachers help me?"

He snorted. "Why? After what I saw, you have nothing to be afraid of."

Except I did. If Elyssa was right, I had plenty to worry about.

I received a lot of curious looks and stares during the day. I wanted to wear a paper sack over my head so people wouldn't know it was me. After English class, Mr. Turpin waved me over to his desk. I wondered if he was going to give me more useless advice about making sure to knock down big people before beating the crap out of them.

He leaned back in his chair and said, "You seem to be a natural at football, Mr. Case. I saw the videos and I must say, I'm impressed."

Elyssa had been right. What a horrible mistake this was turning out to be. "I really overdid the energy drinks. All that caffeine and sugar, you know."

An amused smile crept across his face. "I'm sure. It appears this football season will be far more interesting than I'd anticipated. And perhaps Nathan and his friends will learn that you're not such easy pickings after all."

"I really don't want to play," I said. "In fact, I'd just as soon quit."

"Unfortunately, it appears that our good Coach Burgundy has a vested interest in keeping you on the team."

"So I've heard."

His smile vanished as he leaned forward. "There are ways to fix such problems, however."

Something in his face made my blood run cold and I wondered if a few wires had been knocked loose in his boxing days, or maybe short-circuited something essential. Surely this guy wasn't suggesting I do terrible things, was he? "What do you mean?"

His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips for a moment. "I'm sure you'll figure that out, Mr. Case. Good luck to you."

After school let out, I trudged down to football practice. Thunder pealed in the dark sky, followed shortly by rain. It perfectly complemented my mood. A couple of players I didn't know gave me grudging nods of respect—or maybe it was fear—as I approached. Nathan and his bunch glared at me.

So what else is new?

After pushups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and something they called burpees—which had nothing to do with burping—we had to run the tire gauntlet and push the sled and repeat the same stuff from the day before. Afterward, they put me in as a running back.

Bryan, the quarterback, grabbed my jersey in the huddle. "I don't know why the hell they're putting you in this position. You don't know a thing about football."

I pulled his hand loose and looked at the concerned and angry expressions in the huddle. "I don't have a choice. I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me." But I had an idea to unstick me from this mess.

I got the ball on the first play, of course. Nathan lunged at me. I let him take me out. He rammed me into the ground. It hurt, but not as bad as I'd feared. I still gave everyone a good show, limping back to the huddle. The next play took me right into Steve's arms. He roared in triumph as he took me down, pumping his fists and laughing. Nathan gave him a high-five and kicked a clod of dirt on my jersey while I was getting up. Three plays and three painful tackles later, Coach Burgundy called me over to the sideline. Finally. An end to the madness.

"You ain't a bad actor, boy," he said with a grin. "But this ain't the Glee Club and you ain't fooling me."

"I just got lucky yesterday," I said.

"I don't think you did, boy." He shoveled a fat pinch of tobacco into his mouth. "I think you don't want to play." He spat and looked out at the players. "Them's some good kids out there. You may have the strength, but far as I'm concerned you're just a piece of cowardly trash compared to them."

"Thanks for the encouragement, sir," I said with every ounce of sarcasm in my body.

"I'll tell you something else, boy. I don't care how you feel about playing. If you don't straighten up and fly right, then your grades will suffer."

"You'd force teachers to fail me if I don't play? You can't get away with that."

"You think I can't? I own this school, boy."

"You don't own all the teachers. There's no way they'd go along with you."

"Why don't you just test that little theory of yours and see what happens."

"Fine, fail me then. I'll just move to another school."

"Maybe you can. But can your friends?" He hawked and spat a glob between my shoes.

My mouth fell open. Who did this fat turd think he was? God, obviously. I wished I had a recorder on me. I would nail him to the wall. Surely the cops would do something about it if nobody else would. At that moment, however, I had no choice but to comply. I would bide my time and then revisit this conversation with him tomorrow, only then I would bring a recorder.

"Fine. But leave my friends out of this."

He slapped me on the butt. "Atta boy. Now get back out there."

"What's the matter?" Nathan asked in a whiney mocking voice as I rejoined the team on the field. "Coach finally see you ain't worth crap?"

I ignored him and the shoulder bump from Steve as I passed through the defensive line and back to the offensive huddle. Bryan sighed and shook his head.

"Bulldozer left," he said, calling a variation on the same play we'd been repeating over and over so Nathan and buddies could pound me into the dirt. I could tell he was getting as sick of it as I was, but Coach Wise was hollering the plays from the sidelines like a crazed hillbilly drunk off his ass on moonshine.

I looked back at Coach Burgundy and snarled behind the facemask. I looked at Nathan. He bared his teeth like a chimp. I wasn't sure who I hated the most right then, Coach Burgundy, Nathan, or myself.

I got the ball. I smashed past Nathan, but pulled my punches so it wouldn't look too spectacular. I dodged left to avoid a lunging Steve, and then sprinted, only to trip over my own feet. Heaven help me if the coach thought I was faking that. I pounded the dirt with my fist only to have the breath pounded out of me as Adam and Steve piled on.

"Enough of that," Coach Wise said in his usual quiet manner, veins pulsing in his forehead like blue fire hoses ready to burst.

Bryan helped me up. "How can you be so good one minute then clumsy the next?"

I shrugged. "I've never been very athletic. Not unless you count fencing."