Transcend

Chapter One

Chapter One

It is the slowest day in the history of mankind.

The clock above Yablonski’s head is stuck in a state of limbo. It’s probably enjoying the torment he’s putting us through with that irritating nasal voice of his. I bet I can count to a million before the hands on that sadistic piece of shit complete a minute.

Normally, I would be amused at Yablonski’s antics. I don’t know who he’s trying to fool by pretending to accidentally bump into the desk when anyone with half an eyeball can see that he’s scratching his ass against the edge. But today, all I feel is exasperation. I just want to walk up to him, smack him across that fascinating irregularly-shaped bald head of his and hand him a bathroom pass so he can go ease his discomfort in private.

It’s freaking the shit out of me that I want to be nice to my Physics teacher.

“Cal.”

Goddamnit. If only my sweatshirt was an Invisibility Cloak.

“Cal!”

Something hits the back of my chair. It’s followed by a muffled groan.

An education in Physics would benefit Shawna greatly if she thinks a kick from ninety pounds of skinny female is going to affect the position of the chair under a hundred and sixty pounds of muscle. Brody sure knows how to pick ‘em.

I knew Shawna was crazy the moment she sidled up to me at McLaren’s party in the beginning of the year. How could Brody have missed the psychotic look in her eye when she sprayed whipped cream on my cheek and licked it off within two minutes of us meeting? Sometimes, I swear he’s denser than a baseball bat.

From the corner of my eye, I see a foot shoot out. Before I can react, it rams against the side of my chair. As a result, my head slams into the window pane it was so peacefully resting against a few precious seconds ago.

“Gah!” I clutch the side of my head and scowl at the dumbass sitting on my right. “The hell is wrong with you?”

Brody cocks a wide grin. “Shawna’s been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes, bro.”

“Oh, yeah?” A pissed-off smirk makes its way onto my face. “Is her chipmunk-like voice starting to bug you too?”

Another brain-rattling kick. In the front, Yablonski almost drops the thick book cradled in his palms.

“Cut it out,” I say with a growl when the migraine sitting low on my forehead magnifies. It’s a pretty loud growl because Yablonski sends a quick glance my way through the thin-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. He probably thinks I’m going to rip off my shirt and go all Wolverine on his ass. He’s not the only one who thinks so. A few students turn their heads. There’s so much concern and pity and bullshit in every single gaze that I want to let out another growl. Instead I focus the aggression into a glower that has everyone averting their eyes. Good. Let them think I’m scary as shit. Today is not a good day for people to fuck with me.

“Oh, my God, Brody. You’re so strong,” Shawna says behind me, trying to sound breathless and awe-struck. She ends up sounding like she’s having an asthma attack. I have half a mind to find an oxygen tank and force it onto her face. If she wasn’t hot and didn’t have the sexiest pair of legs I’ve ever seen, I’d have her committed to a psych ward. She tugs at the hood of my sweatshirt. “Are you going to listen to me now, Cal?”

When I lean into the pull, she moves in closer to my seat till her warm breath is fanning the back of my neck. Her fingers loosen their hold on the hood and make their way up the side of my throat. “You smell so good, Caleb.” Her voice is practically a purr: the soft, throaty kind that has me pulling away immediately because a noise like that implies only one thing.