Free Deadwood by Kell Andrews

Executives of Tomorrow. Junior JET for short. When I was young we only had JET in high school, but that club was the first step that turned me into the successful executive I am today. It will teach you to focus on what you want, and attract people, things, and responses toward you. If you can see the power in your mind, you possess the power.”
    Martin scraped his plate with the giant spoon. “I can’t do it. I’m working on a community history project after school.”
    â€œIf you say you can’t, then you can’t.” Aunt Michelle popped a single grain of rice into her mouth.
    He felt a glimmer of hope. “Does that mean I don’t have to do it?”
    â€œNo, that’s an expression. What I meant is that you can do both if you really want to and set your mind to it.”
    Martin opened his mouth to protest that he had no intention of doing both, but Aunt Michelle shushed him.
    â€œIt’s only one Thursday a week, sweetie,” she said, sounding anything but sweet. “Plus Sunday nights, of course. If I had had Junior JET when I was your age, who knows how much farther I would have gone!”
    Martin wished she had gone anywhere but Lower Brynwood. Just as he thought things were getting interesting, they got worse. He wanted to be out tracking the source of magic—real, live magic—but instead he was condemned to sit around with wannabe CEOs jabbering about stock prices and golf scores, or whatever that kind of kid talked about. It was his worst social nightmare— like a curse , he thought grimly.
    He heard a rumble in the distance. At first he thought it was thunder, then realized it was the bass of a marching band. The football game would start soon. If he had any money, he’d put it on the visiting team.

12
    Season Opener
    H annah sat next to Dr. Wiggins during the car ride, but that wasn’t the only reason she felt like one of the adults in the car. After dressing her up, Waverly had ignored her as soon as Libby opened the car door. They jabbered together about their project, which was supposed to be a history of the Brynwood Park Mall. Every now and then they fell silent, and Hannah could hear the click of thumbs on cell-phone buttons, punctuated by giggles.
    Hannah felt her face get hot. She unwrapped the scarf and crossed her arms. The Brynwood Park Mall wasn’t even a real mall. It was just a shopping strip next to the closed-down Walmart and Happy Elf Bakery. If that’s what passed for a historic landmark in Lower Brynwood, she didn’t know if the place was worth saving. She and Martin would be better off rescuing some more worthy town.
    Now Hannah was cold in the blast of the A/C. She twined the scarf around her neck, trying to imitate the way Waverly had tied it, but she got it all wrong. The stadium lights glowed in the orange and purple twilight. She tried to enjoy the view. When she drove with her father, she never got to ride shotgun—that seat was always for her mom, A.J., or Nick. Still, tonight she wished she were in the back with Waverly.
    The sounds of the marching band and the PA system grew louder, and Hannah bounced on her seat. She twisted her right earring, then the left one. This was the most important day of her brother’s life so far, and she didn’t want to miss it. She slammed the door behind her as soon as Dr. Wiggins pulled to the curb, then she sprinted toward the box office. Waverly and Libby could catch up. They seemed to be trying to ruin the night for her, but she wouldn’t let them.
    Lower Brynwood Memorial Stadium brimmed with noise and light, but not people. Too many losing seasons had dampened enthusiasm from the townspeople, so that only family members and the most bored high-schoolers bothered to show up. Hannah felt more nervous than before. The sparsely populated stadium was more intimidating than a full one. She could see each face, and what she saw wasn’t cheerful.
    Around