KIA: Keri In Action

Chapter One

I snapped awake when I heard the slap of a book hit my desk rang through the room. Shoot. Please don’t let me have said anything this time. I knew of my tendency to talk in my sleep.

            Dr. Jones was looming over me with a look of pure discontent. He was a heavier set man, a balding head with thick rimmed glasses. Sweat beaded on his forehead and I could tell he had another garlic and onion sandwich for lunch with a side order of boiled cabbage leaves. Gross. His beady bird eyes felt like they were searing into my skin, branding me as a new target.

            “Ms. Keri Maledicti, would you care to tell us what the class was just discussing?” Asshole.

            “You know, I would but... I have a life and will never need to remember a word that comes out of your foul mouth,” I responded with as much malice I could muster. This was the seventh high school I was attending in the past year. Usually I was kicked out because of my attendance, not my performance but I couldn’t stand this monstrosity of a being. He was rude and self-absorbed, in his mid-thirties, and if sources were correct still lived with his parents. It could explain a few things (one being his dress attire). Who wears a polka dotted tie with a pin-striped shirt?! Someone who lets mommy pick the outfit out, that’s who.

            “How dare you?!” He was clearly surprised, flabbergasted, and fuming at my insubordination. “I believe you are quite familiar with dealing with principals and know where the office is located. I suggest you head there and I will call ahead so they will be expecting you. Now, out.” A fat finger pointed at the door.

            The class was staring and quite frankly, I didn’t even notice. Anyone except Will, whose head was craned around staring wide eyed at me, broadcasting his surprise.

            Will Santigo was the most popular boy in Whitetail High School. He was like a walking, talking male model. His abs were flat and perfect, but he was still a main player on the football team. Not a quarterback, they really didn’t do anything impressive. The real skill was on the line. Offense or defense, you had to keep the ball moving or prevent it from moving. What does this mean? Muscles, lots of muscles. He was about six feet tall with sandy brown colored hair that was once bleached an almost-white blonde color. He had eyes the color of a storm over the ocean. His smile was like a million stars shining: beautiful, bright, and brilliant.  Like Aaron’s was…

            I got up from my seat near the back of the class, picked up my books and bag, and began my trip to the door and then, consequently, to Principal Shaffer’s office. Oh, yay. All of a sudden something shot out from under a desk into my path. A foot. How convenient for me. Before I could stop, instincts took over. I dropped everything and stretched my right shoulder before me. As if I were bending down to grad a dollar off the ground, I rolled cleanly on my shoulder, back and right up onto my feet. I stood there frozen. Normal teenagers, hell, normal people didn’t know how to do a forward roll. Cover. Blown. I set a new record; at the Academy, the record for a blown cover was eight days, four hours, twenty two minutes. My cover lasted three days and about one hour. The only reason I made it three days was because it had been the weekend. Dr. Jones should have just let me sleep. This was his fault.

            I turned slowly hoping beyond all hope no one had noticed my miraculous recovery to a guaranteed face plant. No luck. People gasped, pointed, and stared. Jaws hung open, eyes were wide, disbelief was almost tangible. I bent over grabbed my stuff and bolted out the door, to the right and down a long corridor. I took a few more turns and reached the office. It took another two minutes for Dr. Jones to actually call that I would be on my way but the secretary already informed him I was present. Principal Shaffer was in a meeting so I waited an hour to see him.