Read Online Strange Country Day by Charles Curtis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Curtis
Tags: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Action, supernatural, Friendship, Sports, Football, Boys, middle grade
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anyone who approaches you and tells you we’re in trouble, or that you need to come with them, there’s a question you need to ask them. They’ll give you the correct answer, and you’ll know they’re one of us.
“You will ask them, ‘What’s the fastest way down?’ And they will say, ‘Quicksand.’ Got it?”
“‘What’s the fastest way down? Quicksand.’ Where’d you come up with that?”
Dad didn’t want to answer. “It doesn’t matter. Any other questions?”
Too many to count. But after my eventful first date with Sophi, one had been bugging me for days: “Are there other kids living around here with nanobots in their blood?”
He looked over his glasses at me. “For your safety and for everyone else’s, I can’t answer that.”
But he didn’t say no.
Chapter Twelve
“You gotta find, like … an image or something.”
After my final class on Friday, I walked to the gym, where I’d disappear into the locker room for a few hours and emerge a football player in full pads, helmets, and spikes. I told Sophi a million times she didn’t have to come. I wouldn’t make it into the game for a single snap, even if we were up 59-0. Still, she insisted on coming. I also made my parents swear they wouldn’t go over and introduce themselves to her.
Even if I wasn’t playing, I had to be prepared. But there was a huge problem. Dad mentioned that his tests revealed my nanobots couldn’t be used too often. He thought the respirocytes needed time to restore their oxygen but wasn’t sure until he got more information from my sensor.
I opened the door to the locker room, expecting to see that bizarre combination of skin, sweat, and dirt, and hear the sound of nonsensical chatter. Instead, the place was empty. A constant drip from one of the showers made the only sound. I looked at my watch and realized I was at least two hours early. With nothing better to do, I walked down the rows to find my locker and use the time to read over the scouting report.
When I got to my locker, I found a surprise: a gleaming nameplate with PTUIAC in capital letters. At last, I was officially a member of the Griffins.
A package wrapped in brown paper sat on the floor below my locker. I opened it to find a brand new dark red and yellow jersey with the number eleven on it. I turned it around to see PTUIAC stitched on the back.
I put the uniform down and entered the combination on my lock. Dad had created a special lock programmed to work only when my fingers touched it. Anyone else would receive an electric shock.
I heard a sound nearby that made me jump. I closed my locker walked around the corner to find the source. There, sitting in front of his locker, was Jimmy Claw. He had an empty Snapple bottle in his hand, and a giant lump protruded from his bottom lip. He seemed startled to see me; probably the only time I’d ever seen him rattled by anything.
But then he got that cool “I’m Jimmy Claw” expression on his face. “Hey, man,” Claw drawled. With whatever was stuffed in his lip, it sounded like, “Heh mah.”
“What’s up?” I responded. I understood why so many students were in awe of Jimmy. Even when he was surprised by something, like being caught in the locker room, he still appeared confident and laid back. Yet, he exuded this sense of being an outsider, a Southerner who wasn’t used to wearing a uniform in a snotty private school. Headmaster Hoyer, who’d run Strange since 1991, walked around the school and regularly told uniform violators to correct their mistakes. “Tuck in that shirt, Mr. Franks … Ms. Appleton, what have I told you about your skirt? Move it down.” Sophi told me she’d been caught a few times and would ignore his stern orders. But Jimmy had his own style that Hoyer never seemed to correct, or at least that’s what I’d heard. At that moment, his tie wasn’t pulled all the way up to his collar, and he wore sneakers instead of loafers.
“Nuthin’. Just
“You will ask them, ‘What’s the fastest way down?’ And they will say, ‘Quicksand.’ Got it?”
“‘What’s the fastest way down? Quicksand.’ Where’d you come up with that?”
Dad didn’t want to answer. “It doesn’t matter. Any other questions?”
Too many to count. But after my eventful first date with Sophi, one had been bugging me for days: “Are there other kids living around here with nanobots in their blood?”
He looked over his glasses at me. “For your safety and for everyone else’s, I can’t answer that.”
But he didn’t say no.
Chapter Twelve
“You gotta find, like … an image or something.”
After my final class on Friday, I walked to the gym, where I’d disappear into the locker room for a few hours and emerge a football player in full pads, helmets, and spikes. I told Sophi a million times she didn’t have to come. I wouldn’t make it into the game for a single snap, even if we were up 59-0. Still, she insisted on coming. I also made my parents swear they wouldn’t go over and introduce themselves to her.
Even if I wasn’t playing, I had to be prepared. But there was a huge problem. Dad mentioned that his tests revealed my nanobots couldn’t be used too often. He thought the respirocytes needed time to restore their oxygen but wasn’t sure until he got more information from my sensor.
I opened the door to the locker room, expecting to see that bizarre combination of skin, sweat, and dirt, and hear the sound of nonsensical chatter. Instead, the place was empty. A constant drip from one of the showers made the only sound. I looked at my watch and realized I was at least two hours early. With nothing better to do, I walked down the rows to find my locker and use the time to read over the scouting report.
When I got to my locker, I found a surprise: a gleaming nameplate with PTUIAC in capital letters. At last, I was officially a member of the Griffins.
A package wrapped in brown paper sat on the floor below my locker. I opened it to find a brand new dark red and yellow jersey with the number eleven on it. I turned it around to see PTUIAC stitched on the back.
I put the uniform down and entered the combination on my lock. Dad had created a special lock programmed to work only when my fingers touched it. Anyone else would receive an electric shock.
I heard a sound nearby that made me jump. I closed my locker walked around the corner to find the source. There, sitting in front of his locker, was Jimmy Claw. He had an empty Snapple bottle in his hand, and a giant lump protruded from his bottom lip. He seemed startled to see me; probably the only time I’d ever seen him rattled by anything.
But then he got that cool “I’m Jimmy Claw” expression on his face. “Hey, man,” Claw drawled. With whatever was stuffed in his lip, it sounded like, “Heh mah.”
“What’s up?” I responded. I understood why so many students were in awe of Jimmy. Even when he was surprised by something, like being caught in the locker room, he still appeared confident and laid back. Yet, he exuded this sense of being an outsider, a Southerner who wasn’t used to wearing a uniform in a snotty private school. Headmaster Hoyer, who’d run Strange since 1991, walked around the school and regularly told uniform violators to correct their mistakes. “Tuck in that shirt, Mr. Franks … Ms. Appleton, what have I told you about your skirt? Move it down.” Sophi told me she’d been caught a few times and would ignore his stern orders. But Jimmy had his own style that Hoyer never seemed to correct, or at least that’s what I’d heard. At that moment, his tie wasn’t pulled all the way up to his collar, and he wore sneakers instead of loafers.
“Nuthin’. Just
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