BEING JAMIE BAKER

Chapter 1

Most superhero stories start with a meteor shower or a nasty insect bite, but mine actually starts with a kiss. Whether it was a kiss of life or a kiss of death I still haven't decided, but it was, surprisingly, a really good kiss. Not that I'd ever tell him that.

The kiss didn't actually give me my powers. Those came earlier, in a freak accident involving toxic waste and something like 40,000 volts of electricity. But it was that kiss that forced me out of hiding and changed my life, eventually making me who I am today, and blah, blah, blah... You know the drill.

Mike Driscoll actually started it, three weeks before our senior homecoming, when he got in an argument with Ryan Miller over who to ask to the dance. Mike and Ryan were basically the two most popular guys in school, and Becky Eastman held that title by a landslide among the female population.

"I think I'm gonna take Becky to homecoming," Mike said casually one day over his cold chicken patty on a bun and coleslaw.

"Dude, you took her to junior prom," Ryan immediately protested.

"Yeah, so?"

"So it's my turn. I'm taking her to homecoming."

"Over my dead body. She's the hottest girl in school. As captain of the football team it's my right to have first pick."

"Says who?" Ryan laughed. "I'm the quarterback. Everyone knows I'm the real star. Besides, I'm better looking than you. I bet if we asked her at the same time, she'd pick me."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"So would not."

I'm not sure exactly how long they fought about that, but it was long enough for me to want to rip my hair out.

Superhearing can come in handy every now and then, but most of the time it royally sucks. Especially when you're stuck in a crowded school cafeteria, surrounded by a bunch of spoiled suburban teenagers, most of whom are having conversations every bit as ridiculous as the one Ryan and Mike were engrossed in. I try to drown out the noise, and it works to an extent, but the annoying chatter is the reason I always sit in the far corner, all by myself. Well, it's one of the reasons.

I'd managed to block most of the nonsense from my mind by focusing on the sound of my own chewing, but I'm kind of like one of those government computer programs that you see in spy movies, where they pick up key words and then home in on the conversation. Translation: I'm sensitive to my own name, and when it escaped Ryan Miller's mouth, I was immediately paying close attention.

"Technically," he said, "Jamie Baker is hotter than Becky. If you want to take the hottest girl in school, then you have to take her."

Mike burst into obnoxious laughter. "Yeah, she's hot all right, for an ice queen. Becky is the hottest normal girl in school. Jamie would never go to the dance with anyone."

"Not even the great Mike Driscoll?" Ryan laughed. "You always say you could get any girl in this school."

"Jamie doesn't count. The chick's a total loner."

"Maybe she's just misunderstood," Ryan teased.

"Maybe she's just a cold-hearted freak."

I smirked, quite happy with Mike's opinion of me. When I first arrived here at Rocklin High, Mike Driscoll hit on me before I got to the front steps. He and his buddies were all hanging out at the back of his truck like they were having some sort of tailgate party before school. I knew exactly what was coming when he straightened his letter jacket and smiled at me with that classic crooked smile that every major womanizer has perfected. Maybe laughing in his face in front of the entire varsity football team was a bit harsh, but it did the trick. He hasn't bothered me since. None of them has.

Anyway, I'm glad he hates me. Having him spread all those rumors makes it a lot easier for me to keep my preferred "loner" status.

"I bet I could get her to go with me," Ryan mused, breaking both Mike and me from our thoughts—which I'd bet were the same right then, though I can't be sure. Mind reading is not checked off on my list of superhuman abilities.

This time I nearly joined Mike in his wild laughter. I don't know why Ryan thought he was so special, and apparently, neither did Mike. "Jamie Baker? I'll bet you couldn't even get her to talk to you."

"Yeah, I could," Ryan said. "I bet I could go over there, strike up a conversation, and get her number by the end of lunch."

"You think you could get Jamie's phone number?"

"I just said I could, didn't I?"

"No way," Mike said.

"Okay, how about this. If I can get Jamie's number by the end of lunch, then I get to take Becky to homecoming. If not, then you get to take her instead."

"Make it a kiss, and you're on."

"I kiss Jamie Baker, and I get to take Becky to homecoming?"

"Not exactly—anybody can just kiss someone," Mike said. "You have to get her to kiss you, or the deal's off."

I could feel Ryan looking at me again, probably trying to figure out if he could really do it, and then after a moment he said, "Before lunch is over?"

"Yup." Mike slapped his hand loudly on Ryan's back. "You've only got ten minutes, Casanova. Better go make your move."

I heard Ryan scoot his chair out from the table and smiled to myself. The guy didn't stand a chance, but I had to admit, the bet was highly amusing, and I almost couldn't wait for him to try. When he approached me, I waited for him to quote something I'm sure you could find in any book of cheesy pickup lines, but much to my disappointment all I got was a "Hey, Jamie. Mind if I sit for a minute?"

I had no comeback. It's hard to insult Ryan if he's not making an idiot of himself. So, since I couldn't make a scene worth any gossip, I decided not to make a scene at all. I didn't even acknowledge his presence. It didn't stop him from sitting down, though.

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