Ninja Girl (Book 1: The 9 Wiles)

Chapters 5, 6, and 7

CHAPTER 5

Ash watched him for his reaction. Mule still leaned forward, his square jaw hanging open slightly, waiting for more.

"He asked me out," Ash continued. "On a date."

"Wait, wait." Mule leaned back and shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. "Major-malfunction guy? The principal's son?"

Ash took a breath. "Yeah."

He peered at her suspiciously. "But he's a jerk. You said."

Ash shrugged. "I know! But–"

"I was thinking about pounding him."

"Don't do that," Ash said. "Listen, he called, and... he was nice. It was weird."

"He apologized?" Mule asked.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"Then..."

Ash opened her mouth and no words came out. Finally, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm crazy."

Mule frowned thoughtfully at her, probing the scar on his chin. "You're going?"

Ash straightened and placed her palms on the table. "Yep."

Mule nodded slowly. His eyes settled onto the grain of the table's wood. A long moment passed.

Ash watched him. "Hey. You okay?"

Mule snapped out of it. "Who, me? Sure." He let out a long sigh. "It's you I'm worried about."

#

Spencer Marsh sat at his desk in the broom closet, typing.

The tiny room hadn't held brooms for over two years, although the scent of ammonia still lingered, especially whenever Spencer first stepped in and shut the door behind him to write the day's article for the Falcon. The cleaning supplies had been cleared out to provide office space in the main building for the newspaper staff – a dazzling coup for the Journalism Club, and something the seniors still bragged about.

Of course, the seniors didn't actually do any work in here. It was just a broom closet. It stank. And it was hot. And the air vent near the ceiling piped in distracting noise from every other room in the building, especially Principal Alexander's office next door.

Spencer didn't care about any of that. He just loved that he had his own office, even though he was only a freshman. He spent his breaks and lunches here, and stopped by before and after school sometimes, too. He did some of his best writing here.

But today wasn't one of his better days. Distant voices creeped out of the vent, tinny and weak, toying with his imagination. His mind tried to make sense of the words, dragging his attention to them, breaking his concentration.

"Yes sir. Yes sir, everything is right on schedule."

That was Principal Alexander, on the phone again. His voice was deep and rumbling, but soothing and even, a hypnotic sort of monotone.

"The renovation is on schedule. The library closes a week from Friday. Yes, a great victory. I understand your concern. No, I don't anticipate any delays of that nature."

The renovation – same old thing the principal always talked about. Spencer tried to tune the words out, to concentrate on his own paragraphs on the screen – a brilliant editorial about the pathetic nutritional value of the school lunches.

"How long has it been since our efforts have been so rewarded? No one's found a page since the one in Austria, 1915. We'll be... what? Yes, of course. Of course we are watching for her. That's true, but for now, it's all we can do. Listen, I have certain rules I have to follow – I can't just... "