Read Online Demon Accords 05.5: Executable by John Conroe - Free Book Online
Authors: John Conroe
Ads: Link
as I entered. The halls were a bit creepy, being all silent and empty of kids. Mass bedlam and chaos were the standards I was used to.
My bio lab info was right where I forgot it, on the top shelf of my locker in its dedicated lab folder, so I grabbed it and shoved it into my book bag. I could probably get it done before first bell if I hustled. Just as I shut the locker door, I heard voices coming from the gym area and it sounded like an argument.
Curiosity got the best of me and I found my feet pulling me in the direction of the voices. Poking my head around the final corner brought an odd scene into view. Trey Johnson and his pet gorilla, Kevin Otts, had someone backed up against the wall. A female someone from the shape of the jean-clad legs I could just make out in the gap between the two beefy football players.
“What do you say, sweet stuff? Gonna sit with us at lunch today? A hardbody like you belongs with the right crowd, not with a bunch of geeks and freaks,” Trey said, moving closer and putting both hands on the girl’s shoulders. His movement cleared enough space that I could now see that it was Sarah he had backed up almost to the wall.
“I already said I didn’t think so. Now I’m certain—no,” she replied, her voice pitched low in anger.
“You don’t seem to understand how it works around here,” Trey said, his voice also getting angry. “I speak, you listen. I ask, and you do! Get it?” He pushed her against the wall.
I started to move forward, but it was like he’d hit the firing button on a dynamite detonator. The compact, brown-haired girl exploded into motion, both hands coming up inside his arms and slamming the edge of her palms hard against them. She stepped close to him, wrapping one arm around the small of his back while shoving her palm up and under his chin, forcing his head back. His lower body was trapped by her arm and his head bent backward, so Trey had nowhere to go but over and down on his back.
Her motions had been blindingly fast and the school quarterback was flat on the ground before his lineman buddy could figure out what happened. When it finally dawned on the stupid bastard that his leader had been floored, he charged forward, both meaty paws out to grab the girl he outweighed by more than a hundred pounds. She waited, relaxed, as he rushed her before moving at the last moment in a blur. As best I can figure, she side-stepped him, spun around behind him, and kicked the back of his left knee with her right leg while simultaneously shoving the back of his crew-cut head toward the wall. That’s what I think she did. It was so damned fast, I couldn’t be sure.
It’s probably lucky that the walls were all lockers and not regular concrete block, or he might have been brain damaged. More brain damaged. As it was, his own momentum had enough force to leave a good-sized dent in the metal locker where his forehead hit it.
Mr. Porter, our Physics teacher, could probably have calculated the impact energy by reflex, but all I knew was that it looked like a mini-moose hitting a car.
He slid sideways down the locker, stunned. Trey was back on his feet, his face twisted with rage, and he swung a wild, right-handed haymaker at the girl, who simply crouched, blocked the punch, then delivered a sharp jab to his exposed throat. She grabbed Trey’s hand and got a grip on his index and middle fingers. Pulling her arm back toward her body and flexing her fist forward and down like a waitress pouring coffee, she gave Trey the option of dropping to his knees or having both fingers snapped at the joint where they met his palm. Trey chose to collapse to the floor, his look of rage replaced with one of excruciating pain.
“Come at me again and I’ll get serious about hurting you. Got it, sweet stuff? ” she asked, giving his fingers a final jerk before letting go and stepping back two
My bio lab info was right where I forgot it, on the top shelf of my locker in its dedicated lab folder, so I grabbed it and shoved it into my book bag. I could probably get it done before first bell if I hustled. Just as I shut the locker door, I heard voices coming from the gym area and it sounded like an argument.
Curiosity got the best of me and I found my feet pulling me in the direction of the voices. Poking my head around the final corner brought an odd scene into view. Trey Johnson and his pet gorilla, Kevin Otts, had someone backed up against the wall. A female someone from the shape of the jean-clad legs I could just make out in the gap between the two beefy football players.
“What do you say, sweet stuff? Gonna sit with us at lunch today? A hardbody like you belongs with the right crowd, not with a bunch of geeks and freaks,” Trey said, moving closer and putting both hands on the girl’s shoulders. His movement cleared enough space that I could now see that it was Sarah he had backed up almost to the wall.
“I already said I didn’t think so. Now I’m certain—no,” she replied, her voice pitched low in anger.
“You don’t seem to understand how it works around here,” Trey said, his voice also getting angry. “I speak, you listen. I ask, and you do! Get it?” He pushed her against the wall.
I started to move forward, but it was like he’d hit the firing button on a dynamite detonator. The compact, brown-haired girl exploded into motion, both hands coming up inside his arms and slamming the edge of her palms hard against them. She stepped close to him, wrapping one arm around the small of his back while shoving her palm up and under his chin, forcing his head back. His lower body was trapped by her arm and his head bent backward, so Trey had nowhere to go but over and down on his back.
Her motions had been blindingly fast and the school quarterback was flat on the ground before his lineman buddy could figure out what happened. When it finally dawned on the stupid bastard that his leader had been floored, he charged forward, both meaty paws out to grab the girl he outweighed by more than a hundred pounds. She waited, relaxed, as he rushed her before moving at the last moment in a blur. As best I can figure, she side-stepped him, spun around behind him, and kicked the back of his left knee with her right leg while simultaneously shoving the back of his crew-cut head toward the wall. That’s what I think she did. It was so damned fast, I couldn’t be sure.
It’s probably lucky that the walls were all lockers and not regular concrete block, or he might have been brain damaged. More brain damaged. As it was, his own momentum had enough force to leave a good-sized dent in the metal locker where his forehead hit it.
Mr. Porter, our Physics teacher, could probably have calculated the impact energy by reflex, but all I knew was that it looked like a mini-moose hitting a car.
He slid sideways down the locker, stunned. Trey was back on his feet, his face twisted with rage, and he swung a wild, right-handed haymaker at the girl, who simply crouched, blocked the punch, then delivered a sharp jab to his exposed throat. She grabbed Trey’s hand and got a grip on his index and middle fingers. Pulling her arm back toward her body and flexing her fist forward and down like a waitress pouring coffee, she gave Trey the option of dropping to his knees or having both fingers snapped at the joint where they met his palm. Trey chose to collapse to the floor, his look of rage replaced with one of excruciating pain.
“Come at me again and I’ll get serious about hurting you. Got it, sweet stuff? ” she asked, giving his fingers a final jerk before letting go and stepping back two
Similar Books
