Psych Investigation Episodes: Episode V

By Kevin Weinberg

In the fifth installment of Psych Investigation Episodes, Jack finds his sense of morality and character questioned as he is faced with a two-choice problem: kill, or allow those he loves to be killed. This latest addition to the series tracks Jack’s progress as he struggles to maintain a grip on who he is while forces beyond his control demand that he becomes someone he’s not.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Weinberg
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311173836

Kevin Weinberg

Author of Questing Sucks! And the Psych Investigation Episodes series.

Book preview

Prologue: Two for the Price of One

Lahore, Pakistan - New Anarkali Bazaar: 4:43 P.M.

Noah listened with fascination to the sounds of raised voices haggling for a better deal; the back-and-forth between merchant and prospective customer was interrupted only by the periodic buzz of slowly moving motorbikes, which competed with one another to swerve around the throngs of people. In the bazaar, a man who did not haggle was a man who did not appreciate his money.

Thousands of excited customers traveled to and from any of the hundreds of merchants peddling their wares, and most of them—or at least the smart ones—put their negotiation skills to the test as they fought for the best bargain.

I’ve missed this place, Noah thought, sighing. I think I’m gonna come back when I’m not on business.

As Noah waded his way through the overflowing crowds packed into the narrow, tiny lanes, which were surrounded on both sides by eager vendors, he continually checked to ensure Goliath stayed close by and didn’t wander off, as the thoughtless man had a tendency to do. In all honesty, he didn’t like Goliath; no one did, really.

Boss sticks me with him and now he’s my responsibility. I’d do better on my own.

Of all the people he could’ve been partnered with, he wondered why Boss had to put him with Goliath. Anyone, even Joshua, would’ve made for a better partner than this annoying, brooding, grumpy giant.

I hate this place, Goliath said. His voice matched his appearance: booming, spectacularly low in pitch, and each word spoken slowly.

Noah ignored him. Goliath never had anything positive to say. He was too high-strung, and he was quick to anger. Noah preferred people who were even-tempered, calm, and not so quick to rush to judgments—all of the traits this dumb beast lacked.

But most unforgivably, he lacked appreciation for anything that wasn’t edible. Here they were, in one of the last places in the world where almost everything sold was handcrafted: fabric, tapestries, furniture, glass bangles, and all kinds of jewelry—everything. And yet Goliath saw nothing of value in it. The bazaar was a place of infinite possibility, and none of that registered in his thick, uncaring brain.

I wanna get something to eat, Goliath said in a low rumble. The other part of this dump was better.

Noah knew he was referring to the old bazaar, where one could not take more than a few steps without enjoying the aroma of something delicious being cooked. The last time Noah had come to Pakistan, he had enjoyed quite a bit more than his scrawny body could handle, and it had left him with a terrible stomachache.

Relax, G, Noah said. We’re here on business. We can eat afterwards.

Yeah, whatever, he grumbled. Damn the Boss for making us come here. Of all places, he sends us to Agrabah.

Noah ignored the slight, as getting into a feud with the brainless fool would only hinder their progress. As someone who was half Pakistani and half Saudi-Arabian, it irked him to see someone speak of this place so dismissively. Still, he wouldn’t bring it up: it wasn’t worth fighting over.

He tugged on Goliath’s sleeve and pulled him off to the side, as an impatient driver on a motorbike seemed poised to run the two of them over. The man got through, but not before shouting an insult at them, the result of which was just what Noah expected: Goliath’s body tightened, he growled, and then he took a large step forward as if to resort to violence.

Easy now, big guy, Noah said, reaching out with his kinetic energy and grabbing him. He knew it would be difficult to hold Goliath in place if he resisted, but fortunately, the tremendous man made a low, throaty growl, then relaxed.

"I don’t like this. I don’t like you. Why do I gotta listen to you? You should be listening to me."

We’ve been through this, Noah said. Boss put me in charge, and that’s that.

Damn kid. I should be in charge.

Goliath had expressed on more than one occasion his issue with Boss’s decision to put Noah in charge, and to be fair, Noah couldn’t blame him; after all, Goliath was a man in his thirties, and he was a seventeen-year-old kid who’d been with the farm for less than a year. But if nothing else, it spoke volumes about the difference in their maturity and ability to get things done. Whereas Noah was a task-oriented guy with excellent time-management skills, Goliath was a useless Brute whose only real skill in life was breaking things—or people.

It was amazing no one gave them any second glances as they strolled by. A scrawny kid with a bony face, traveling with a monster of a man, side by side—it was almost odd that no one offered anything in the way of scrutiny. Then again, most were probably too busy mentally rehearsing what they planned to say to the merchants to care about anyone else.

"We’re almost there, G. Just…calm down and let’s get this done. Then, I’ll show you some of the best food you will ever eat."

You’d better, he demanded. "Otherwise I’m eating you, Noah."

I assure you. I do not taste very good.

Noah snickered at his own joke, but only because it reminded him of the kinds of things his grandfather would say. Once upon a time, when he went by a different name, Noah had left America and toured much of the Middle East with his grandfather, Karim, who would likely kill Noah if he had any idea what he’d been up to since leaving home. It had been his grandfather who had taught him how to haggle, as well as many of the other beautiful things to be found in these parts.

The thought of his family brought about darker, sadder feelings. His grandfather was one of the few people he liked. It was a shame he had to be such an idealistic idiot. Noah had joined the farm to save the world by whatever means necessary—something his grandfather would never understand no matter how well anyone tried to explain it to him.

World is a wicked place with wicked people. Someone has to bring about change.

Noah set all thoughts of his past out of mind, lest they distract him from the present. Together with Goliath, he made his way past a shop selling dresses woven of bright, vibrant-colored fabric. Many items made in the bazaar were unique, their value set at whatever their creators deemed their worth to be.

Up ahead, past a row of parked motorbikes, Noah took a left into a less-populated lane, pausing to ensure that Goliath stayed with him. Sure enough, his beast of a companion was eying the entrance to a Desi restaurant, the smell of spices strong enough to tempt even Noah. He too was hungry. But nevertheless, he placed an assertive hand on Goliath’s shoulder and led him away.

How much farther?

Just up ahead.

Noah continued halfway down the lane, and then stopped outside the entrance to one of the larger places in the area. Most businesses were built into lots outside of small, connected buildings: many were only closet-sized and all the merchandise was laid out. Others were room-sized, and you could enter into them and browse through the items within; a few, however, were large enough that they resembled a store back home in the states, with many people inside and several aisles-worth of merchandise to browse through.

The place he led Goliath was one of the latter, although it was not a business. It was an old stone building, and it looked as though it were at risk of crumbling down. From the look of it, it had once been a large praying area for shoppers who could not travel to a nearby mosque, but it had since fallen out of use; inside, there was no furniture, decorations, lights, or mats—completely empty. Just four walls and a hard, stone floor.

Noah shut the door behind him. It was dark and quiet in here. His feet echoed against the pebbly floor as he walked further into the place. After several more steps, he stopped. Goliath also stopped, standing directly at his side. Then he waited.

He relaxed his breathing and enjoyed the few moments of serenity given by the relative quiet. The crowded lanes had made him feel too enclosed and anxious, and the contrasted emptiness of this abandoned building came as something of a relief.

What now? Goliath asked him, shattering his moment of tranquility.

Now we wait.

Wait? he growled. I don’t wanna wait. We got here on time, so where’s our guy?

Be patient, G. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.

In total, it ended up taking close to ten minutes for the man to arrive, during which time Noah suffered through more of Goliath’s incessant complaining. Even Joshua, who Noah had partnered with twice—hating both times—would be able to go ten minutes without saying something negative.

Joshua’s good for at least fifteen.

By the time the door reopened, briefly illuminating the place before closing, Noah feared he was going to have to use force to keep Goliath from running off. Thankfully, their man had showed, and in his right hand was a ball of crumpled-up construction paper.

Who are you? the man asked them.

Noah repeated the lines he’d been told to memorize. I’m a man looking for a little something to brighten the mood.

What kind of mood? the man asked.

The kind that needs brightening.

The man nodded. He was short, with long brown hair, and a goatee with a matching mustache. He wore a nondescript white shirt and a plain pair of blue jeans. From all appearances, one would never suspect that this man, who looked so casual as to blend in and become unnoticeable, was one of the leading suspects on the FBI’s most wanted list. He was also said to be one of the most brilliant hackers alive.

He approached slowly; it was obvious from his hesitant footsteps that he was not a Psych, but an ordinary man who felt uneasy around their kind. He handed Noah the crumpled-up paper.

Here you are, he said. Exactly what was asked for.

Noah unwrapped the package and turned it upside down, emptying its contents into the palm of his hand. Inside was a tiny device with two buttons on it the size of a garage-door opener, and it also looked to operate on a single 12-volt battery.

What is that, anyway? Goliath asked.

Noah shrugged. I don’t know, and I wasn’t told, so I didn’t ask.

The man smiled, licked his lips, and then paused. Something you’d like to say, friend? Noah asked him.

It’s just that…if that will be all, then…

Your money, Noah said, nodding. Goliath, give it to him.

Goliath grinned. With a sadistic grunt, his hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around the man’s throat. The man croaked, and Goliath’s eyes widened in rage.

Noah rubbed his temple. Not this again. Goliath, stop it. I said stop!

With a burst not strong enough to injure but forceful enough to let Goliath know he meant business, Noah knocked him away from the man and nearly sent him on his rump. Goliath stumbled, but he was able to regain his balance. Then he glared at Noah.

Don’t give me that look, Noah said. Who told you that you could kill this man?

"Who said I couldn’t?"

No one, Noah agreed. But tell me: if you kill this man, what does that say about us?

Huh?

If we don’t give him his money, then someone somewhere will spread the word that people from the farm can’t be trusted. We should represent ourselves with integrity and honesty. Now, pay the man double.

D-double? Goliath exclaimed, his voice booming more loudly than usual. But that’s the money we were given to—

I don’t care, Noah said, cutting him off. Give him all the money we have. Noah turned to the man. This will make for an appropriate apology, will it not?

The man eyed the two bundles of cash Goliath removed from his pockets then nodded, hesitantly at first, but soon after more firmly. Y-yes, sir. Thank you. And I apologize if I caused any offense.

None caused, and none intended on our end. It was a simple bit of miscommunication and nothing more.

He bowed. If that will be all…

You may go, Noah said.

He left in a hurry, not bothering to close the door behind him. Noah shook his head. Everything went smoother when he was on his own. If Boss insisted he take a partner, then that was one thing, but Goliath? He was useless, truly.

I should kill you, Goliath said, growling. Now we can’t afford to eat.

I still have some cash. Relax.

You do? His eyes lit up. Then can we go get food now?

Yes. But please, G, stop acting like a monster and learn to be a person.

Don’t tell me how to behave.

Then learn how on your own.

Noah, exhaling, pointed to the exit. Let’s go. Come on. He managed to take one step, and then he stopped as a blinding, brilliant flash of green light erupted from somewhere within the building. It was so intense that he was forced to lower his head and close his eyes.

He reopened them a moment later. He heard a bang, which indicated the door had been slammed shut by someone. Immediately, he drew on his power and prepared himself to fight. He didn’t know who or what was responsible, but it was obvious someone was attacking them—or about to.

Noah! Goliath shouted. What’s going on?

I don’t know.

He looked around; it was difficult to see for a few seconds thanks to that sudden appearance of green light. But eventually, his vision returned to normal—and just a moment too late. Something white moved towards him. He didn’t realize what it was until it was right upon him.

The white object turned out to be a person in white robes, running so fast across the stone floor that whoever it was must’ve been a Reinforcer. Before he could react, the robed man snatched the device out of his fingers then bolted to the other end of the building. Despite moving so fast, his feet barely made a sound as they tapped the stone like a speeding heartbeat while fleeing across the room. Once at the back wall, he crouched, lifted his palm, and for some reason he looked as though he was going to slap it down on the floor as if trying to kill an insect or something.

Noah didn’t know what was going on, but he reacted before this man did whatever it was he was trying to do. He gestured, and the device, which had just been stolen from him, flew out of the robed-man’s fingers and soared back across the room, returning to his possession.

All at once, the man stopped what he was doing, his hand only inches from having been slapped onto the floor. Then he jumped to his feet, faced the two of them, and with his back straight, began circling them.

He wants a fight, Noah said, sighing. Okay, Goliath, fan out, and don’t bunch up. Make sure we have him surrounded on both sides of the room.

You know who that is, right? Goliath shouted, apprehension his voice.

Who?

That’s…Redemption.

Who’s that?

Didn’t anyone ever tell you? He’s the—

The robed man gestured, and Goliath grunted as a force threw him off his feet; he landed with a thud on his back. Right away, Noah knew he was dealing with an Unrestricted. It caused him no fear, however; Unrestricteds were overrated and overvalued.

Noah threw out his hand, squeezed, and pulled, attempting to yank this Unrestricted closer to him. At first, he thought he was succeeding, as the robed man was pulled down to his knees, and he started to drag across the floor, which must’ve been painful given it was made of stone. But before he moved more than an inch, he slapped his palm down against the floor, and then there was another green flash, this one even brighter.

An instant later, the robed man was just in front of his face. The hood on the robe concealed his features, and in this lighting, it was difficult to get a good look at him.

"Give me the device, whispered his voice. And I won’t kill you."

Noah grinned. He lifted his hand, raised his thumb, and then turned it sidewise, pointing to his right.

"Hmm?" the voice asked questioningly.

A moment later, Noah saw the robed man’s eyes—the only part of his face visible—widen in surprise as Goliath’s fist hurtled towards his face. The robed man raised his arms to defend, and he nearly succeeded, too, but Goliath struck him hard enough that his fist not only broke through the robed man’s guard, but it continued until it slid through and knocked him on the right side of his face. The robed man went down, groaning. Goliath lifted his foot as if to stomp on the man and split his head open.

Stop, Noah ordered. Goliath obeyed, thankfully. Let’s at least find out who this person is before we kill him, shall we?

Oh, okay.

Noah bent down and pulled back the hood, curious to see what kind of man they were dealing with. To his surprise, he discovered they weren’t dealing with a man at all. Beneath the hood, the figure revealed itself to be a young black woman with long hair tied into a bun. She was attractive—or would have been if not for the nasty bruised eye Goliath had just given her, which was already puffing up. She had small lips, small eyes, and she was almost as scrawny as Noah.

This is Redemption? Goliath asked. Doesn’t seem so strong to me.

The woman tried to get to her feet, but Noah kept her pinned with telekinesis. Who are you, ma’am?

She looked around as if disoriented. When she met Noah’s eyes, she frowned then spat in his face. With an exhale, Noah wiped it off. Some people were so rude.

Now, now, he said. There’s no need for that. Who are you? Is your name Redemption? When she didn’t answer, Noah shrugged and said, Goliath?

He laughed. He bent down and wrapped his fingers around her leg; his hands were so big and her leg so small that he was able to get her entire thigh in his grip. Then he squeezed, and she shouted out in pain. After a few seconds, Noah signaled for him to stop.

We can do this all day. Who are you?

I’m…I’m Ira, she said.

Ira? He looked at Goliath. Is that the same as this Redemption person?

I don’t know, Goliath said, scratching his short patchy hair in a way that resembled an ogre deep in thought. I guess we should bring her back to the farm and let Boss take a look at her.

The woman took a sharp breath, and then as if her life depended on it, she raised her palm. Noah had seen her do this twice before, so he somehow got the idea that if she slapped her palm down, she could make herself disappear.

Quickly, he sent two Kinetic grabs around each of her hands, securing her in place. Goliath. Do me a favor and break her wrists.

Okay.

Noah cringed at both the sound of the snaps and the sound of her subsequent screams of pain. She passed out, and Goliath picked her up, placing her over his shoulder.

We are gonna stop to eat now, right?

No, G. Things have changed.

He stomped his foot, which cracked the stone beneath him. Damn you, kid.

I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

With that, Noah took out his cell phone and dialed a certain number. Folks at home were going to find this very interesting indeed.

Chapter 1: Problems at School

Even as his hand raced furiously across the paper, Jack knew it was already too late. He wiped sweat off his forehead as he leaned forward in his desk, his eyes switching back and forth between two pieces of loose-leaf paper. The first belonged to his friend, Adam, and the second was his own. School was back in session, and already, on the first damn week, he was falling behind on his assignments.

September was turning out to be a hot month, and there was never any air conditioning in Elms High, so Jack had to turn his head as a bead of sweat fell off his brow and narrowly missed the edge of his paper. It also didn’t help that a familiar-sounding tap from the hallway told him time was really starting to run short, making him perspire even more.

Frustrated, he copied down his friend’s answers without regard for neatness or legibility. After all, Mr. Munson would be entering the class any second, and he still had ten questions left. It was bad enough that he’d gotten the same horrible math teacher again, but it was made worse by the fact that he somehow cared even less about school than he had before the summer break. He was in eleventh grade now, and he wondered how he’d make it through to the end.

And what were they even learning here, anyway? Jack’s mind had been drifting off during class all this week, so all he saw when he looked down at his paper were a bunch of numbers, squiggles, some more numbers, a few more squiggles, and a division symbol. Were they solving a math problem or trying to figure out how to build a nuclear reactor? This stuff was just dumb.

Mr. Munson’s voice resounded from the hallway, where it appeared he was engaged in a conversation with another teacher about something. That meant Jack had to hurry.

Math sucks, he thought. And I shouldn’t even be here. I’ve got, like, more important things to do!

For the past week, Jack had struggled to return to his normal, everyday life, and things weren’t working out so well. For starters, none of this felt real—it felt awkward, actually. Here he sat, Jack Harris, leader of the Foxes, and what was he up to? Cheating on math homework? It almost made everything that had happened to him these past few months seem like a dream—one with a pretty happy ending, of course.

Jack grinned as he reflected on the week he’d spent alone in Aruba with Requiem and the days since. Actually, she was probably waiting there for him right now, assuming she didn’t go out to the market today. Every day after school, he’d return to his new home, a thought that even now made him jitter.

Even while he sat here in class with the other students, somewhere in the world, he had a private villa and a beautiful woman waiting for him. And Jack didn’t think any of it would seem real no matter how much time went by. In fact, of everything that had happened to him since discovering he was a Psych, ending up with millions of dollars in real estate in a tropical paradise was definitely the one thing that he struggled the most to come to grips with. It just didn’t seem real—or at least not at times like now, as he sat here with Adam and lived the ordinary, boring life of a high school student.

But later? Later, when he whisked himself away to his new home? Yeah, then it would all come rushing back to him as it had done all week: who he was, his purpose, and the horrible thing he’d done. But even with the memory of Cyrus still haunting his nightmares, Jack could not recall a single time in his life where he’d more looked forward to the end of a school day.

Each day this week, the moment classes had ended, he’d walk to the boys’ bathroom, make sure no one was around, and then slap the window above the back stall, disappearing from this mundane, boring world and returning to his home. Today was Friday, so he’d get to spend the entire weekend with Requiem.

Why am I even here, anyway? He wondered. No one can make me stay if I don’t wanna.

One thing was for sure. His mom, Paro, and all the others—they must’ve been really pissed with Jack right about now, because he hadn’t checked in with them or spoken to them for at least two weeks. For some reason, they didn’t try to prevent him from escaping from school each day, either, though even if they had tried, Jack would've just jumped out of the third-floor window and ran away. No one could hold him down any longer. No one.

Jack! Adam hissed, causing him to snap out of his thoughts.

What?

"Are you copying or not? What gives?"

Huh?

You’ve been sitting there staring out of the window for the past three minutes.

I have?

Adam rubbed his eyes. What’s gotten into you lately, Jack? You’ve really changed, man.

Jack, realizing his heart just wasn’t in it, slid Adam’s homework back over and decided to just take a failing grade on it. It was only the first one, and he could always do the next few. Oh, who was he kidding? He’d rather fight ten Psychs than go through this hell.

You’ve been avoiding me all week. Adam adjusted his glasses then lowered his voice. "You’re not telling me something. There’s definitely something going on here. I mean, first, you disappear, and you don’t call me once all summer, and now you won’t talk to me at all. I’ve known you most of my life. Something is wrong with you."

Jack laughed. Nothing’s wrong with me, Adam, honest.

Really? Adam looked over his shoulder as if nervous someone might be listening in on them.

This year, Melissa wasn’t in any of Jack’s classes—for which he was grateful, as he’d been avoiding her and had nothing to say to her—and it was only through sheer luck that he just so happened to end up in the same class as Adam again.

I’m the same old Jack I always am, I swear.

Your clothes are much baggier.

So?

"And you seem distracted. And where were you all summer?"

I told you already, Jack said, frowning. My mom made me go to some juvenile boot camp ‘cause she thought I was being bad in school or whatever. So that’s why I’m a bit bigger than I was before, and I’m wearing bigger clothes ‘cause I don’t want anybody notice, and it’s also why I’m a bit distracted. It’s ‘cause they made me all disciplined and stuff.

You realize that’s illogical, don’t you? Adam asked. "If you were more disciplined, you’d be less distracted."

"Your face is illogical," Jack said.

Okay, so you’re partially the same guy I knew.

Shuddup!

Adam laughed, but only briefly. Then he stared at Jack as if evaluating him, peering at him through his glasses with skepticism unmasked on his face. Jack could tell he wasn’t buying it, or at least he wasn’t fully buying it. Either way, it was fine, because he knew his friend would never guess anything about the world he’d become involved in.

It was strange, really. Looking around, everything was just so normal now. The kids in class with him, the blackboard at the front of the room, the desks, the hallways, the boring conversations about how everyone’s summer had gone—all of it. This was normal. This was real life. And this was what Jack had been so desperate to get back to.

Is this really what I’d missed so much? This?

Nowadays, everything seemed so boring and without purpose. Jack knew that his only reason for existing was to assemble his Foxes. Even now, he wore the medallion of the golden fox, which was tucked away inside his black shirt so that only a portion of the chain was visible around his neck.

I don’t feel like I’m much of a leader at all right now, he thought bitterly. I really gotta start getting some of that stuff done. I need to recruit.

Oh well. Somehow, he’d manage. Seriously, things weren’t all that bad. Sure, school sucked, but you know what? He owned a four-bedroom villa, filled with stuff that had names which for some reason Requiem was able to memorize but he couldn’t, like the type of wood that was in their main bedroom. Also, he had a 4k, Ultra-HD television in his living room. He had his own kitchen, his own pool, and he’d even made friends with the neighbors, one of them even offering to fly Requiem and him on an island tour out of his—wait for it—private helicopter. It was for this reason that Jack began to wonder if maybe he should retire from the Psych game altogether.

How much money did he have left? Definitely over two-hundred thousand. Bills were really expensive, because of, like, electricity and property taxes and this and that—Requiem was handling all that stuff—but if he didn’t waste any of it, he could afford to keep up this lifestyle for a good few months. Then, if he needed more money, there were probably tons of ways for someone with his abilities could make a few million dollars here or there. Stealing aside—he wouldn’t go that far—he was sure he could think of something if he put his mind to it. Maybe he could open up a transportation business or whatever.

And if all that wasn’t tempting enough, Jack had discovered the ultimate thing in life, but Requiem complained every now and again that he had too much stamina and that he needed to give her a break once in a while because she was only human, which sucked because it turned out to be the only sport he’d ever enjoyed playing. She took too long to recharge. How was that his fault!

…which is why, Adam continued—then he frowned. Jack, you’re ignoring me again. Hey, come on, man. If you don’t want to talk to me, you could at least—

No, no! Jack protested. You’re my best…my…best friend, of course I wanna talk to you.

Why did you hesitate? Adam asked.

Hesitate?

When you said I’m your best friend, you hesitated.

Dunno, probably your imagination. Trust me, you’re definitely my best friend. I don’t got any others, and if I did, I wouldn’t consider them true friends because they’re backstabbing jerks who—ah, never mind.

Adam shook his head. "Something’s definitely different about you—way too different. Are you even you any longer?"

Of course. Sheesh, Adam.

Really? Okay, so let’s hang out this weekend.

Jack hissed dramatically. Ahhh…so sorry, Adam, but I can’t this weekend. I’m busy.

What about next weekend?

I can’t hang out until I clear the air with some people I might not be able to clear the air with.

What does that even mean?

"It means we can hang out, but it’s gotta be Mondays through Fridays on school days and, umm, in school."

I knew it, Adam said. Jack grew uncomfortable as his friend pointed at his chest as if accusing him of something. "You have changed. I don’t recognize you, and it’s upsetting. Do you even like video games and anime anymore?"

Jack, theatrically, puffed up his cheeks and then blew the air out. Psssht! Do I like anime and video games? Look who you’re talking to, Adam. I’m, like, the vide-game president.

"Okay, what’s the last game you played that came out this month?"

Jack gulped. He had no clue. But he could at least guess. There was a good chance of getting it right. Assassin’s Creed.

Damn, Adam muttered. Okay, that was too easy. There’s a new one of those like thirty times a year. Give me another one.

Call of Duty.

Give me another one.

Batman.

"Fine! Name an anime that you saw this month. A new one."

Damn! He’s got me this time. Okay, calm down, Jack. You can do this. You fought Cyrus—lying about anime should be easy.

Jack grinned, straightened his back, and shrugged. I’ve seen, like, fifty new ones, Adam.

"Name one."

Okay, umm…so like, the other day…the other day I was watching Hatsu Batsu no Tatsu Shmatsu ring ring lemonade stand extra plus!

Damn, Adam muttered. "You have been watching."

Jack nearly fell out of his desk. "Wait, what? That’s actually a real—?"

But I still think you’re lying to me, Adam finished.

Jack sighed. Adam, I don’t know how many times I gotta say this. I’m still the same Jack you always knew. I still play Magic the Gathering, I still love TV and movies, I still love video games, I still watch anime, and of course, I still—

He cut off abruptly as a paper ball bounced off the back of his head, followed by the sound of a snicker from the back of the class and the word loser. Before he had a chance to stop himself, Jack swung his fists down, slamming them against his desk with a loud bang. He jumped out of his seat so fast that there was another bang as his desk fell over on its side, and he whirled around.

Then he marched to the back of the classroom, and the boy seated there looked up at him with disbelief painted on his face. Hey! Jack shouted at him. Why’re you throwing stuff at me? Huh?

The student flinched, held up his hands in surrender, and said, Whoa, easy, Harris. I was just playin’ around, yo.

Jack scowled. He looked down at the boy’s desk. Is that your notebook?

Yeah, why?

With a swat, Jack knocked it off the desk and onto the floor. Good. Go pick it up. Then he spun around and returned to his seat. Honestly, some people pissed him off so badly that he just…urgh! He picked up his desk, put it back in line with the others, and sat down.

Okay, so what were we talking about, Adam?

Adam’s mouth was open, and his glasses were lopsided because his head was tilted to the side. What…was that?

What was what?

"You just…Jack, what was that?"

Dunno what you’re talking about.

Adam’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Whatever he wanted to say, he wasn’t given the chance, as Mr. Munson chose that exact moment to enter the classroom. The teacher glided to his desk like a determined machine. He dropped his briefcase, loosened his tie, and faced the class.

Good morning, he said, removing his lesson planner from his briefcase. I’m a little late, sorry. New Jersey traffic.

As usual, he got straight to business. For the next few minutes, he took attendance, during which time Jack reflected on his actions and realized he’d just done something he normally wouldn’t do. He needed to be more careful about that in the future.

I shouldn’t have gone after that kid, he thought. He just got me so mad!

It wasn’t that Jack thought he was a tough guy or anything, but more that he didn’t see why he had to take other people’s crap. It wasn’t fair! But in this case, maybe he’d gone a bit too over the top. Either way, he doubted that guy would be throwing stuff at him ever again.

I shouldn’t have to take no one’s crap. I like, own a villa now. In Aruba!

Mr. Munson powered through attendance in record timing. Jack, distracted, nearly forgot to raise his hand as his name was called, and to his shame, four of the students laughed after Munson had to repeat it. It agitated him. Why were they laughing at him? Just because he forgot to answer attendance call? So what?

All right, everyone, the teacher began. New year, new set of homeworks. I’m really hoping you guys did it. As we discussed Monday, it’s a sizeable portion of your grade. So, let’s see who started off the new school year the right way and who didn’t. Let’s start with…you, Mister Harris. Jack muttered under his breath. This teacher clearly hated him. What did you get for answer one on the problem set?

Jack was tempted to squeal with happiness. Every so often, the teacher did a random spot check instead of collecting the papers, where he’d try to call on as many people as possible, and those who contributed were marked as having done their homework, while those who couldn’t answer the question or couldn’t try to answer the question were assumed to have skipped it, and they would get a 0 for that paper. Everyone else—the few he couldn’t call on—got a free ride.

Jack scratched his head and picked up the paper off his desk. He’d at least copied some of it down. Number one, right? he asked.

What do you think, Mister Harris? Have you forgotten how to count over the summer?

No, Jack said, shame in his voice. Sorry.

Well, go on then. Mr. Munson shooed him. Explain and justify your answer for problem 1.

He again scratched his head as he tried to read his handwriting. He regretted copying Adam’s work so sloppily. He could barely read this. No, seriously, this was completely unreadable.

So, like…for number one, the answer is… Jack squinted, not even remotely sure of what he’d written down.

The answer is…? Mr. Munson said, prompting him to continue.

The answer to number one is…okay, the answer is box.

Box? Mr. Munson asked, actually pulling his head back at the response. The answer, Mister Harris, is ‘box’?

I don’t know, damn, Jack muttered.

Walk me through the steps that you used to arrive at your…answer.

Jack sighed. Okay, so like, umm…I had X, right? And then X went into parenthesis, and then it was raised to the second power. Then the parenthesis went away. Then…then I did this—Jack used his finger to draw in the air the thing he’d put down on his paper that he couldn’t remember the name of.

Sigma?

Yeah, Sigma. I Sigma’d it. And then the parenthesis came back. But they didn’t stay long this time. They went away again right after that. Then I divided it until I got box.

Mr. Munson nodded. He made a mark in his lesson planner, which Jack doubted was one that gave him credit.

"Okay, would someone else like to try the first problem?"

Jack sat back down and rested his chin in his palm. He didn’t care about any of this. Let Mr. Munson think he was stupid. He half-listened as the boring guy continued asking for people to solve the homework problems, then he tuned out everything as his teacher started the lesson.

Forty minutes passed with agonizing, eternal slowness. By the time the bell rang, Jack was so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear it. Adam tugged on his sleeve, and he lifted his head, got out of his seat, and followed his friend into the hallway.

Students chatted loudly as they crowded the halls, making their way to the next class. Jack had English next period, and Adam had Spanish, but the one after that they were both free. Jack knew that, once again, Adam was going to spend all lunch asking him questions about stuff he didn’t feel like talking about.

Hold up, Jack, Adam said, as Jack tried to go his separate way and head towards English.

What’s up?

I want to talk to you. I’m worried.

Well, we can’t talk now or we’re gonna be late.

So then we’ll be a few minutes late. I’ll walk with you to class, but go slowly.

Jack shrugged. He didn’t really care one way or the other. The bell rang, and now the halls were more or less empty. They were officially late to their classes, which were on opposite ends of the building: Jack’s was on the first floor west-wing and Adam’s was on this floor—the third floor—east wing.

As Adam pushed open the door into the stairwell and the two of them began to walk down the steps, Jack could tell his current behavior was disturbing Adam more than his friend was letting on.

You know, Jack, he said, I don’t have many friends.

I don’t either.

So, I really got…a bit upset that you never called me to hang out all summer: not even once. We used to hang out every day, and this summer, you ignored me completely.

I told you, Jack said. I don’t know how many times I gotta say this: I was—

Away at camp, right, Adam finished for him. If that’s the case—assuming I believe your awesomely cool mom would ever send you someplace horrible like that—then why didn’t you tell me before you left?

Ah, that’s ‘cause…

Also, Adam continued, if you’re telling me the truth, then why didn’t you at least call me when la-la-la-la-la I’m a nerd who hates boobs.

Jack coughed out a surprised laugh. Huh? W-what?

I said why didn’t you call me when I got back?

Jack scratched his ears. He must’ve been hearing things. It’s complicated. They exited the stairwell and walked out into the first-floor hallway. Things have been really crazy for me lately, and if I could tell you more, I really would.

"And why can’t you tell me? Adam asked. I thought we’re supposed to be friends. I thought that I have a nerdy and stupid face. Adam, using both his hands, pinched each one of his cheeks, pulled them apart, then stuck out his tongue. Durr! Look at me! I’m a dumb nerd kid no one likes. Durr!"

Jack again laughed, though it was a confused, uncertain laugh. Adam, if this is some kinda’ umm, what’s that word you use? Right! Satire. If this is some kinda’ satire thing you’re doing, I’m not getting it.

What are you talking about?

What do you mean what am I talking about?

Jack, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here. Then he pulled his cheeks apart again. Durr! I’m friends with Jack ‘Wahh, Melissa doesn’t like me!’ Harris.

The words struck a sore spot, and Jack frowned. "Adam, that’s not cool. Now, I don’t know if you’re trying to do something weird that has, like, some metaphor about the environment or whatever, but that isn’t funny."

What’s not funny?

That you’re making fun of me ‘cause I used to have a crush on Melissa.

Adam flinched. What? Why would I do that? Jack, what’s gotten into you, seriously?

Nothing’s gotten into me.

Good. Because I know you’re just crying ‘cause Melissa thinks you’re uncool and you’re such a big baby about it. Wahhh! I’m Jack Harris! Boob-girl doesn’t like me, wahh!

Okay, that’s it!

Jack walked away in a hurry, storming down the halls and leaving Adam behind. Honestly, he liked his friend, but there were some things that just weren’t cool, and that was one of them. If he wanted to use metaphors and algoricories or whatever they were called, he could do that in English class. Jack had literally no idea what kind of point he was trying to make, and although he was sure it had some kind of political underlying or something, he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it. It was just like that time Jack littered, and so to prove a point, Adam had spent the next few days talking about how much he enjoyed the feeling of choking to death when there would be no more oxygen left or something.

Whatever. Even if Jack didn’t know what Adam was trying to do, he trusted that his friend was only trying to make some kind of political statement about the government or a related thing.

Besides, Jack thought, his mood brightening. Requiem is gonna be waiting for me when I get home. Man, I hope she's not gonna make me work for it again.

He couldn’t wait to spend all weekend in Aruba with Requiem—with Sandra. He’d forget all about this by then. As for now, all he had to do was make it through the rest of the day.

Chapter 2: Bells and Whistles

It happened again. And this time, Jack was prepared. The moment he felt something eerily like a human finger pressing into the back of his neck, he spun around so fast it made him dizzy, and he grabbed whatever was behind him, hoping to finally get his hands on the bully-idiot—whoever it was—that had been annoying him for the last hour. Yet once again, there was no one there, and Jack growled, confused and upset.

What the hell is going on today?

From the moment he had entered English class until right now—a few minutes after the class had ended—someone had been messing with him. All throughout the class, someone had been blowing in his ear, flicking him, tapping him in the back, and snickering at him.

And he was getting furious!

Yet there was never anyone there, and so each time, the teacher and the other students would give him odd looks as he jerked his body around and grabbed at nothing. And now, with class finally over, he was alone in the halls on free period, and still, even all by himself, he felt more of these strange sensations. Either he was losing his mind, or someone out there was screwing with him.

He was supposed to meet Adam at this spot in front of the double-doors leading into the second-floor library, but he was tempted to return to Aruba and leave this entire place behind him. Seriously, this was some messed-up stuff.

Whoever you are, Jack said, you’d better not—

He cringed as something slapped him in the back of the head. He spun around, threw a punch, and then hit nothing, which forced him to continue in his spin until almost falling off his feet. Then he heard that same snicker again, and he hissed in anger.

Damn ghosts! Jack spluttered, spit flying out of his lips as the frustration became too much. This school is freaking haunted.

Shh, someone said behind him. Jack turned in that direction. One of the librarians stood just behind the door with her fingers held up to her nose. Young man, please, people are trying to read and study, and you’re out here making a ruckus. Do I need to call the principal?

N-no, Jack said meekly. Sorry.

She smiled. Then please, if you feel like being loud, go to the lunchroom. Also, I’m old, ugly, and sometimes when I walk, I hop like a rabbit.

Jack, now astoundingly perplexed, watched in shocked amusement as this old woman tucked her elbows into her sides, bent her knees, lifted her head, and then bunny-hopped back into the library and out of sight, all while yelling boingy, boingy, boingy each time she jumped up and down.

Is this normal? Jack wondered. Maybe I’ve gotten too mixed up in crazy stuff I just don’t remember what regular people do.

Someone laughed—the sound coming from behind him. Jack hurried to turn around, desperate to catch sight of whoever was doing this to him. Sure enough, there was nothing behind him—well, actually there was something. The door to the stairwell across the hall opened, and Adam came out of it.

Hey, he said. Sorry I’m late. I was starving, so I grabbed a chocolate bar.

Jack looked at the thing in his hands. Then he covered his own mouth and struggled not to vomit. For some reason, Adam held onto a chocolate-bar wrapper, but instead of chocolate inside the wrapper, there was a frog, and he was…he was eating it!

Adam, that’s so, so, gross. What’s…what’s wrong with you?

Adam sighed. I know, Jack. Believe me, I know.

You do?

He nodded. "Anything with this much sugar is bound to lead to potential heart disease, and I’m glad to see you’ve finally taken an interest in nutrition. But even I’m given to binging once in a while."

Jack scratched his head. I didn’t even know frogs had sugar in them.

Frogs?

Yeah, you’re eating a—Jack stopped as he got a second look, and he realized that it was just a chocolate bar in Adam’s hands—never mind. Frog is just a, umm, a new word I use to mean sugary heart disease fat.

What’s going on with me? I’m losing my mind.

Jack made his way down to the cafeteria with Adam. Together, the two of them engaged in light conversation, and thankfully, it was—at least for a while—just as it normally was. Things had been getting progressively weirder as the day went on. Earlier, instead of reading The Great Gatsby, his English teacher had instead assigned them The Great Boobsby, which Jack still couldn’t believe was a real thing, but apparently it was. His teacher claimed it was important to read, as it highlighted the economic rift between old boob and new boob.

What was really strange was that, instead of teaching, he put on the song Highway to Hell and played it on a loop for ten minutes straight, then put on some Irish music and tap-danced the rest of the class. Normally, Jack wasn’t the type to criticize people’s teaching skills—usually—because he himself couldn’t teach anyone nothing, so like, that was whatever. But it was still really weird.

Hey, Jack, Adam said, as they made their way down to the lowest floor, where the cafeteria and hopefully some decent food would be waiting for them.

What’s up?

I know you’re going to try to avoid answering, but I need to keep asking you anyway because I’m your friend. What’s up with you? Seriously.

Jack grumbled. Not this again, Adam.

It’s just that, I wonder how you can blah, blah, blah. I’m really not trying to pry here, Jack, but for God’s sake, man, you blah. Look at me! I’m so annoying and I keep asking the same thing over and over, like, jeez, get off Jack’s nuts already, nerd-kid! He said he doesn’t wanna tell you. Go fly a kite or watch science shows or whatever. Goddamn you’re annoying.

Huh?

Why do you keep saying ‘huh’? Adam asked. "Are you not listening to anything I’m saying—which you shouldn’t be, because I keep saying the same damn thing over and over like some annoying, nerd-version of Goliath. God I hate that guy."

Whatever, Jack said. If you’re just gonna talk in metaphors and smileys and all the other things, then you can talk to yourself.

Jack, wait!

Once again, Jack brushed his friend aside, not willing to put up with this kind of crap. Adam was supposed to be the mature one between them, and now he was acting like a child. So rather than head to the cafeteria, he marched right on back up to the third floor. It was free period, so why waste his time here when he could just go home and eat something way better than frozen school crap? He still had over thirty-five minutes until next class started.

He grinned. Maybe if he ate fast enough…

Jack hurried his way to the bathroom. For some reason, he heard feet tapping desperately behind him as if someone was struggling to keep up with him. It was probably Adam, though the footsteps sounded weak and exhausted.

Probably ‘cause he’s out of shape.

Jack turned his walk into a run, which was forbidden in the halls, but to hell with it. He needed to get away, and no one could catch him. He even put some Reinforcement into his legs, ensuring that he got far enough ahead of Adam that his friend didn’t see him vanish.

He powered his way down the hall, past a row of old lockers that no one used anymore. Then, after a sharp left, he was upon the third-floor boys’ bathroom, which was thankfully unoccupied. He made his way into the third stall.

"Wait!" shouted a voice. Jack tensed up. Someone really was chasing after him. It didn’t sound like Adam, either.

Not my problem.

He raised his palm, slapped it against the window above the toilet, and rejoiced as the flash of white light took him away from this boring place, if even momentarily. For several seconds, he relaxed on the sensation of the world shifting, and then everything returned, and he found himself in his kitchen.

Requiem was chopping carrots on a cutting board, using the granite countertops that she had specifically put in to replace the wooden ones that came with the place. Actually, she’d changed quite a few things during these past five days. Jack had no idea how she’d done it, but she’d actually managed to spend twenty-thousand dollars in just five days on vital upgrades, hiring people to come in and do the work. Who knew that anyone could spend that kind of money on stuff like this?

Well, it did look better now, Jack had to admit. All the cabinets had had their wood replaced with cherry wood, and the refrigerator had been exchanged for one that was larger and roomier. There were two sinks in the kitchen: one in the middle-most counter and one near the refrigerator, and both had been swapped out for something that had golden-looking handles and water filters on the faucets.

Darling, she said, smiling, I did not expect you back just yet.

Jack let the air leave his lungs, and then he took a slow, relaxing breath. He couldn’t believe it. Even standing here, he still struggled to come to terms with the fact that this was all his. And Requiem’s too, he supposed.

How come you’re cutting up carrots? Jack asked.

I’m preparing an early dinner for us. I thought we’ve been splurging too much on eating out, and so I’ve decided to make us both a cooked meal tonight.

Okay, well, I’m just gonna eat something real quick then to hold me over, ‘cause school food sucks and I’m hungry.

Very well, Darling, but do remove your shoes. I don’t want you tracking mud on the floor.

Jack grumbled. Leave it to Requiem to make him feel like a guest in his own home. He removed his cell phone and looked at the time—though he didn’t really have to, as there was a digital clock on the oven, the microwave, and the living-room TV across from the kitchen—but habit won out. He still had over thirty minutes.

You know what? I’m just gonna eat an energy bar.

He walked over to the cabinet where he’d stored his snacks. At first, they’d been filled with all the best stuff, but Requiem had thrown out exactly half of it and had replaced it with healthier alternatives, claiming that Jack could decide for himself what he wanted to eat, but he should at least be aware of the better options. He didn’t mind. Actually, he’d been eating a lot healthier lately because of it.

Before reaching the cabinet, he stopped, spun around, and walked behind Requiem, placing his chin in the crook of her neck and kissing her cheek. He wrapped his hands around her stomach and pressed her into him a bit while she continued cutting up vegetables.

Darling, I’m working, she said, though despite her words, she did turn her head somewhat as if to give him an easier angle as he planted kisses on her cheek.

You know, I don’t gotta be back for a little while.

So it would seem.

Jack kissed her again. So like, I’ve got about thirty minutes, and umm…and it’s totally possible…

No.

Aww, but Sandra, you said that since you were too tired last night that I get one extra—

Requiem sighed. I fear I may have turned you into a caveman. First, I’d like us to have dinner together tonight, and then I was rather hoping we could take a walk on the beach. I don’t know who you’ve taken me for, my angel, but I’m not an on-demand—hey! Darling, behave yourself!

Jack frowned as she swatted away his hands, which were reaching for something she clearly didn’t want them reaching for. Then she turned around, cupped his face, and for just a brief, but joyful instant, he felt her lips over his. Then she returned to what she was doing.

The dog seemed to get jealous, because he pressed his nose against Jack’s leg and then barked. Jack, letting go of Requiem, gave him a bit of attention, for which he stuck out his tongue and panted. Then Jack threw the squeaky toy he’d dragged into the kitchen and threatened that he was gonna go get it and that was enough to send the dog playfully growling and running into the other room after it.

Returning his attention back to Requiem, he asked, Can’t I, like, get a few free passes each week?

You’re being ridiculous.

Aww, he moaned. It’s just that I was kinda hoping…I always thought that…

What?

I don’t really know the normal way things are in this kinda…like, this is my first serious, you know? But anyways, I always thought that the way it would be…I never knew that sometimes I’d have to go almost a whole day in between…you know? I always thought that, when I finally had someone like you, I could just kinda, you know, snap my fingers, and then I ‘get it’.

Requiem let out a dark laugh. Snap your fingers? I assure you, Jack, my angel, if you think you can—or will ever—reduce me to that state, then you’ve got some learning to do yet. I suppose it’s not your fault, entirely. I was far too willing to indulge your impulses last week. Truth be told, I never expected you would have such an…appetite.

I don’t even know what that means.

It means be patient, my angel. I’m not going anywhere. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. And cease muttering under your breath! I hear every word of it.

Just so we’re clear, Jack said, does this mean the whistle idea I came up with is out of the question?

At this, Requiem turned around and glared at him. "My angel, there is little I wouldn’t do for you. But if you think I will agree to come running into your room naked every time you blow a whistle, you’ve reached my level of crazy."

A simple no would’ve been enough, Jack grumbled. What if…what if it’s a bell and not a whistle?

He was forced to duck as Requiem aimed a slap at his head. Be careful how far you push, Darling. Now, if you would be so kind as to pick me up some sea salt on your way home, it would be most appreciated.

Yeah, yeah, fine.

Jack spun back around and went to get his energy bar, but not before leaving her with a slap on the tush hard enough to make her stand on her toes and squeak. Then he laughed as she uttered a foul string of curse words or words that might have been curse words, because he’d never heard them before. What the heck was a foul-mannered lummox?

He opened a window, letting in the breeze on the warm summer air, and then he lay on one of his many couches around the house while he watched TV. He still had a few minutes left before school. He needed a nap, so he closed his eyes and decided to cut next period, because it was social studies, and it was the most boring, pointless

Reviews for Psych Investigation Episodes

[Michael Umah · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Parogar, Jack Harris is the funniest guy alive.
Can't wait for this to become a movie???

[mohammed kamau · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The best book you will ever read in your life. I REPEAT THE BEST YOU WILL EVER READ!!!!i should warn you though if you start reading from the start ...kiss reality , friends and family for a while ...coz once you start reading the book you will not stop until you have finished it.