Deep Black Road: The Head of the Snake

Chapter 8

Monday morning, second period, Ricky had Geophysical Sciences; and the class had to do a lab.

Everyone was quickly divided up into groups of four or five; and Ricky's group gathered in the corner by the window.

"So what'll we do?" one girl asked as she got settled in her chair.

Ricky, who'd just checked out the topic via the school network, said to her, "Why don't you do the diagram Mr. Verderren wants? You're good at drawing." He glanced around at the two others. "Liam, you can do the charts. I know you like to ..."

"Hey!" barked the girl on his right. "Who made you boss?"

"Nobody," Ricky answered. "Sherry just wanted to know ..."

"I didn't mean for you to answer," Sherry huffed. "Of course I'm doing the main write-up."

"But you're a lot better at ..."

"No I'm not," She said firmly. "I'm a writer. Now shut up, and let's get going on this."

Ricky glanced at the rest of the group before starting the chart he'd been assigned, and thought, This is so useless. A good mark's going to be just about impossible.

But I'd better keep quiet and make the best of things, or I'll end up making enemies.

#

As Ricky pulled off his school sweater at the end of the day, Jerry popped his locker open and exclaimed, "What's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sherry's telling everyone you were bossing her around in science lab this morning."

"I made some suggestions that would make things go better in our group." He hung up his sweater. "That's all."

Putting his outdoor jacket on, Jerry said, "That's not like you. You know, ever since you came back from your accident, you've been different. I mean, you don't play games like you used to, and now you're telling people what to do. You're getting bizarre, man."

"Why shouldn't I say something if there's a better way?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Jerry asked heatedly. "They don't want to know what you think. They don't care what you think! If you can't even figure that out, then maybe you shouldn't say anything." Sighing, he slammed his locker and turned to go, grumbling, "See you tomorrow."

As Jerry strode away down the corridor, Ricky thought, I'm trying to be friends. Why's it gotten so hard? Will I ever be able to be friends with a carnate person?

Am I really human inside? Or do I only think I'm Ricky, like my builder says?

#

After school a couple of days later, Ricky was working alone in his father's laboratory, assembling a specialized little robot that Dr. Sheppard had developed for a research team in the university's post-graduate Geology program, when he got an alert from Sentinel that Dr. Shamir was at the door.

"Hi, Doctor," he said into his link.

"Hello, Ricky," came the response. "I see that your father is not there currently. May I come in? I wish to speak with you."

"Sure." Ricky then linked, "Sentinel?"

"Go ahead, Ricky."

"Let Dr. Shamir into lab five oh one."

"Yes, sir."

The door slid open; and Dr. Shamir strolled over to where Ricky was working.

"How are you doing, my boy?" he asked.