Free Mayhem by Artist Arthur Page B

a lifetime to wait! What happens when this darkness attacks? We don’t know what to do or how to stop it. Don’t you want to be prepared?”
    â€œNo,” Lindsey is saying, and she’s still rocking back and forth. It sounds like she’s chanting the word now.
    â€œDon’t you want to know what’s going on with Lindsey? I’ll bet it has something to do with her power. Why can’t Fatima just explain everything at one time?”
    Krystal puts a hand on my arm. “Jake, you’re getting loud. People will hear.”
    â€œI don’t care! I’m sick of sitting around doing nothing.”
    And for the first time in weeks I realize it’s true. Since the confrontation with the black smoke in the woods with Krystal and Franklin’s disappearance and the weird dead bodies found with missing eyes I’ve been ready to kick some demon butt. We’re sitting ducks just waiting for them to make the next move.
    They’re looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I don’t care. And maybe it’s because they’re girls that they don’t mind sitting back and waiting. I don’t know, I just know I’m tired of it.
    â€œSo what do you want us to do, Superman? You want us to turn into like some demon hunters and go out looking for the Darkness?” Sasha is not happy with me right now. I can tell because she’s rocking her head on her neck and leaning over the table like she’s about to jump on me. She gets like that when she’s getting worked up. I’ve seen it a couple times before, but never directed at me.
    And Krystal’s rubbing my arm again. While I normally likeher touch, this is a little irritating. It’s like she thinks I’m this fragile kid who needs her guidance specifically. Her touch always calms me down, though, like a mother or a grandmother’s reassurance. The last thing I want to think of Krystal as is my mother or my grandmother and I definitely do not want to calm down.
    Both my hands are resting on the table and I’m pretty ticked off by Sasha’s sarcasm. Heat pools between my palms and the table and my head throbs so hard an implosion seems inevitable. As if that’s not bad enough, the cafeteria gets darker, like outside turned more gloomier than it was when we’d come in this morning. All around me the chatter of kids echoes, footsteps of others walking by grow louder. Inhaling deeply, then exhaling—which sometimes helps and is a relaxation technique I read about online—is futile and only succeeds in making me nauseous. Greasy grilled cheese and not-quite-spoiled chocolate milk isn’t a good mix. The acuteness of my senses, on the other hand, is even more alarming.
    So with all this going on there’s no wonder I feel like I’m having a breakdown. I’d like to know if anybody else is feeling like this. The girls are still staring at me, Sasha with a heated glare, Krystal with concern and Lindsey with what looks like pity.
    At that very moment I feel a hand on my shoulder and when I turn I see it’s Pace. I know what’s coming before it comes. It’s surprising and satisfying all at the same time. I stand and I shove him, he falls back sliding on the floor until he hits the table where the Goths sit. Mateo is there in like a millisecond, lifting his fist to punch me. But before his fist can connect with my face, I lift a hand to stop it, pushing him back onto the floor.
    He looks up at me, clearly shocked at what I’d done. Scrambling to stand up, he’s glaring at me, then he spits. It just misses me but I’m seeing blood red now. His blood. Mateo’s and Pace’s. I swing and punch him right in the jaw. He jerks back like I’d hit him with a bat. The cafeteria is even darker now and as soon as I look around the windows start breaking out. Each one that I look at bursts, sending shards of glass flying everywhere.
    Now kids are