In just seven days, news of the expulsion of Loganlane Middle School’s worst juvenile delinquent quickly made its way around town. Many of the teachers were now so ecstatic that Michael Ade had finally been kicked out, they threw a party in Mr. Grant’s honor (though they were very careful to do so behind Principal Flanigan’s back). Two students named Ashley Batten and Cody Tignor (who were in Michael’s social studies class and were notorious teacher's pets) had even written a celebratory song that they began yodeling in the hallways: “Came really fast, but took way too long, let's give three cheers, cause Ade’s gone!” The jingle eventually became so popular that the student section made sure to sing it each time the Loganlane football team scored a touchdown during their next game.
For Michael, the days that had passed had been rather uneventful as he’d spent most of it at home trying to stay out of trouble. He hadn’t been in the mood to run into anybody looking to pick a fight, and being that his title of “toughest kid in school” was now up for grabs, he was sure there would be plenty of challengers. And so, deciding that keeping a low profile would probably be his best option, the past week had pretty much consisted of him being cooped up in his room, avoiding the Tollivers, and generally being very bored.
Even that Saturday as the entire family was downstairs having lunch, Michael sat on his bed staring out of his window. Considering that he hadn’t heard his name when Taryn and Timothy were called to come and eat, he'd taken this to mean he wasn’t invited. Stomach growling as the smell of lasagna filled his room, Michael then saw a head of curly black hair bouncing up the driveway. It was Paris—he’d been avoiding her all week. He shot up from his bed, sprinted downstairs, and yanked open the front door before she could knock.
They stared at each other.
“Hi,” said Paris meekly.
“Er—hey,” replied Michael.
They continued to stare.
“I’m so sorry I left your bookbag in the courtyard!” Paris blurted out. “It’s just that the bell rang right after we argued, so I rushed to class and I guess I forgot it was still there! I had no idea Diana would go and give it to Mr. Grant and Mrs. Lambert! They must’ve planted those rags inside of your bag, didn’t they?”
“Well seeing as how I had nothing to do with the graffiti, how else would the rags have gotten there?”
“I just can’t believe her,” sighed Paris, ignoring his sarcasm. “Diana’s really not a bad person or anything…”
Michael looked at her incredulously.
“Not a bad person? She helped them set me up!”
“I know, Michael, I know! I’m just saying I don’t think she meant for it to get this far. Mr. Grant probably tricked her into helping them in the first place…her mom’s a teacher so she’s really big on doing whatever adults say…and...well...she...”
Paris shifted uncomfortably.
“She really doesn’t like you. But it’s not like you’ve ever been the nicest person to her either. Remember that time in third grade when you poured rubber cement down her back?
“I didn’t do that!” said Michael fiercely. “It was Bradley Lisbey, but like usual I got all the blame!”
Just then, the sound of an argument breaking out between Taryn and Timothy could be heard coming from the kitchen.
“I was reading through the handbook last night,” said Paris, as Michael closed the front door behind him. “It says all expelled students have the right to a hearing before the school board—”
“I know that already, Flanigan said it’s later this month, but like I already told you I don’t care about Loganlane…so I’m not going!”
“Oh stop acting like that!” snapped Paris. “Look, I’m going to get your expulsion overturned if it’s the last thing I do! All we need is enough evidence for your case before the hearing! We just have to find a way to expose Mr. Grant for the way he’s treated you!”
“We?” repeated Michael. “You sure your buddy Diana will be okay with that? She’s probably hiding behind a tree as we speak.”
Paris rolled her eyes.
“You’re so grumpy today—well more than usual anyway.”
Michael huffed as he noticed her teeth.
“Hey...your braces are gone...”
“Oh!” she gasped, her face flushing. “Yeah...I got them taken off yesterday.”
Gazing back at him, she played with her hair as her dazzlingly white smile shined in the afternoon sun. Michael had never realized how pretty it was until now.
“Well anyway,” said Paris quickly. “I’ll see you later.”
And without another word, she turned and walked away as fast as she could.
“Girls are so weird...” mumbled Michael.
He then went back inside and into the living room to find Uncle Terrance watching T.V. and Aunt Tanesha talking on the phone. Michael could tell that Uncle Terrance thought she was being too loud because he kept shooting her annoyed looks as he turned up the volume. They made no acknowledgment of Michael as he walked in.
“Terrance, you won’t believe what Adrienne just told me!” exclaimed Aunt Tanesha as she hung up the phone.
“And what would that be sweetheart?” asked Uncle Terrance in his most sincerely interested voice, though the expression on his face said the opposite.
“Four car break-ins, all last night in her neighborhood!” said Aunt Tanesha, reclining in her armchair and snorting: “Police think it was a bunch of teenagers…this used to be such a nice area before all the riff-raffs started moving in!”
From the corner of her eye, she glared at Michael.
“Yes it was dear,” said Uncle Terrance, shaking his head pompously. “But luckily for us, our children are the good ones who would never get mixed up in any of that nonsense! While other kids are out causing trouble on a Saturday, our babies are upstairs studying!”
Both Uncle Terrance and Aunt Tanesha looked at the living room mantle, which held various pictures of Taryn and Timothy and beamed. They could be unbelievably stupid sometimes. Michael knew perfectly well Taryn was upstairs texting about the latest school gossip, while Timothy was playing video games. Neither was studying.
“And where are you going?” said Aunt Tanesha sharply.
Michael, who’d just been about to head upstairs, stopped dead in his tracks. He rolled his eyes and swallowed hard.
“Back to my room...where else?”
“Don’t you get smart with me!” snarled Aunt Tanesha. “I still need more streamers and a piñata for Timothy’s birthday party, so make yourself useful and go buy some! You can walk to the mall…given your history, you should have no trouble getting there!”
She surveyed him for a second then barked: “And don’t you dare think about leaving this house without putting on those gloves first!”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Normally, Michael would’ve relished this opportunity to return her rudeness with some of his own. But on this occasion, he was very hungry, and going to the mall would be a golden opportunity to get something nice to eat with the money Aunt Tanesha was bound to give him.
“Whatever,” he muttered, glaring back at her.
Ten minutes later, Aunt Tanesha was shoving thirty dollars into his gloved hands.
“There’s enough to get everything I need! And I want you to bring back the receipts as well!”
He said nothing and went out the front door. Meanwhile, Taryn and Timothy came back downstairs to join their parents. He could hear them being praised for all their “hard work” as he left.
“Stupid party,” grumbled Michael, throwing the gloves down the sewer as soon as he was outside. He’d almost forgotten that Timothy’s birthday extravaganza was in one week. Since only the smartest kids in the neighborhood were invited (none of whom were Timothy’s actual friends) it would be Uncle Terrance and Aunt Tanesha’s chance to compare their children’s academic accomplishments with other overzealous parents.
They lived for moments like these.
An hour later, Michael reached the mall, where he found it to be bustling with Saturday shoppers—most of whom gripped their bags tighter and stared at his markings when he walked by. Being that many of these people probably had children who went to Loganlane (or had heard stories about the boy with the “star tattoos” who was always causing trouble) this treatment came as no great shock. Ignoring the dirty looks, he quickly found a party favor store where he purchased a donkey piñata and streamers. Several minutes later he was standing in the middle of the food court.
“I need to eat...” he groaned, as he eyed the various restaurants hungrily. One such place was a burger diner called Maggie Rockets, which Michael knew very well since he’d spent many afternoons in there, skipping school, enjoying free samples, playing on the jukebox, and hiding packets of ketchup between the booth cushions. Massaging his empty stomach, he was about to go inside when he noticed three guys sitting down at the next restaurant over. They looked like they were older (probably in high school) and as Michael stood there, one of them watched him like a hawk.
Suddenly a man wearing a greasy apron and tall chef hat burst out of the Maggie Rockets front door. Holding a broom, he took one glance at Michael’s hands and waved it threateningly.
“It’s you again with the tattoos! Every time you come here my customers leave with ketchup stains on their bottoms! You are not welcome in this establishment! GET OUT!”
***
Afternoon was turning to dusk now as Michael, piñata and streamers in hand, headed back home. Since the chef at Maggie Rockets had made such a big scene, the mall security guards had banned him from eating at any of the other restaurants before kicking him out. Irritated and still very hungry, he was walking through a wooded area when he heard someone call from behind:
“Hey, you!”
Michael looked to see three teenage boys running toward him. It was the same guys he’d seen earlier at the food court.
“Hey, you!” the boy in the middle called again.
Michael stopped walking and turned to face them as they caught up. From up this close, he realized just how tall and muscular they were.
“You’re Michael Ade right?” said the boy in the middle, as he glanced at both of Michael’s hands.
“Yeah that’s me,” said Michael coolly.
“See I told you guys it was him!” said the middle boy as the other two nodded in agreement. “I knew those tattoos could only belong to one person.”
The middle boy then looked from side to side as if to make sure no one else was around.
“My name’s Jarred,” he said, stepping closer. “Do you know who Charles Perkins is?”
“Nah,” said Michael, standing his ground and looking bored.
Jarred smirked.
“Charles is my little brother, and for the past month he’s been giving your brother money, and doing his homework…all because you threatened to beat him up.”
Of course, thought Michael. As if getting expelled wasn’t enough, now he had to deal with this.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” said Jarred, cracking his knuckles. “Charles wouldn’t tell me what was bothering him at first...then I finally got it out of him.”
The other two boys moved closer as well, flexing their muscles as they did so.
“I waited for you every day outside of Loganlane last week until I found out you’d been expelled. But now I’m going to teach you a lesson about what happens when you mess with my little brother!”
Michael rolled his eyes.
“Yeah...you guys are so tough wanting to fight an eighth grader. I’m shaking in my sneakers.”
“You mess with my brother, you mess with me!”
“I’m really not in the mood for this. Look man I didn’t do anything to your brother…I don’t even know who he is.”
Staring at the hulking figures in front of him, Michael could tell his words were falling on deaf ears.
“You don’t want to do this…”
“I don’t?” bellowed Jarred, the veins in his neck throbbing as he drew back his fist.
“We’ll see about that!”
The punch came hard and fast, but Michael ducked as it whizzed over his forehead. The next punch from Jarred was just as quick, but Michael dodged it easily, side-stepping a few feet away as the piñata and streamers rustled loudly. Grinning, he placed them on the ground.
“I’m going to wipe that stupid look off your face!” screamed Jarred, this time charging full force. He threw a flurry of punches, but they were all dodged effortlessly before Michael stuck out his left foot and tripped him to the ground.
“You’re way too slow,” he taunted. “All muscles and no speed.”
Now covered in dirt, Jarred sprung to his feet, looking enraged.
“Let’s get him!” he hollered, lunging forward. The other boys did the same. They were coming in on all sides.
“Suit yourself,” shrugged Michael, balling his own fists, and bracing himself.
Suddenly, there was a flash of white light and a powerful gust of wind. The three boys were blown back and toppled onto their sides before they could even make contact.
“What was that?” asked one of the boys, slowly getting to his feet.
“I don’t know!” snarled Jarred, as he also lumbered from the ground.
Truth be told Michael had no idea either—the last thing he remembered was getting ready to fight. What was that strange light and where had it come from?
“LET’S GO AGAIN!” yelled Jarred, as the trio rushed once more. This time Michael did the same, and as his fist came forward, there was an even stronger gust of wind and another flash of light. He felt the sleeves on his shirt ripple violently, as the wind rushed past his hand, and made contact with Jarred and the other two boys. They were blown back like rag dolls (some ten feet into the air) and landed in a pile of leaves. Now busted and in pieces, the piñata and streamers lay scattered all over the ground.
“What’s going on?!” stuttered one of the boys, as he wobbled to his feet.
He was completely covered in twigs and pine straws.
“It’s Ade!” cried the other boy. “He’s doing something with the wind!”
The two of them looked at Michael, and then at each other.
“JARRED YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN!” they shrieked, and both took off in the opposite direction. Jarred, whose legs were shaking uncontrollably, also looked at Michael.
He turned on the spot and ran.
Michael stared at his trembling hands and shuddered.
What had just happened? How had he blown the three of them back like that, without even touching them?
If he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it.
Was this all a dream?
He looked at the mess of piñata and streamers and shuddered again.
“What did I just do?”
“It’s about time your kindling happened,” said a voice suddenly from behind.
Startled, Michael whipped around to see, standing in front of him, a tall figure dressed in a lengthy shawl. But this figure was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Its face looked like that of a human, yet it had whiskers, and eight fangs protruding from the top of its mouth. Its straggly hair and beard gave off the appearance of a mane, while the two feline ears sticking out the side of its head looked like horns. It had a long lion’s tail that swayed back and forth, and hands that were not hands at all—but claws.
“Your Royal Highness,” the thing said, staring at Michael with its piercing cat-like eyes. “We were beginning to worry your powers weren’t ever going to show.”