The Guardians: The Search for the Golden Praying Mantis

By Rick Boyle

No matter how good our lives seem to be going, we often long for a little more excitement. Sometimes we don’t realize it though until something unusual is presented to us, and we need to make some big, important decisions.

In author Rick Boyle’s The Guardians: The Search for the Golden Praying Mantis, you join three teenagers who undertake an adventure of a lifetime. Seth is the star quarterback for La Jolla High School and his younger brother, Sean, is a genius. For the most part, the brothers are pleased with their lives. Then they meet their new science teacher. Miss Tia, a former college professor from New York University. When she shares a story about the elusive Golden Praying Mantis, the boys are intrigued. With the help of classmate, Amber, they go on a search for this mystical creature. And when they discover a black and white crystal, their lives are changed forever.

The Guardians: The Search for the Golden Praying Mantis shows us that things are not always what they seem. Nor are people—even parents. Join Seth and Sean as they begin their journey to become Guardians of the Universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532053467

Rick Boyle

Rick Boyle outlined the story of The Guardians: The Search for the Golden Praying Mantis ten years ago. Inspired by his two sons, he wrote the first story four years ago and has completed a series of stories over the last four years. Only now is his dream becoming a reality.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

R OSHAN FEELS A little guilty when he looks over and catches a glimpse of the nervous look on Dimara’s beautiful face in the soft, warm light of the sunrise. She is looking up through a break in the canopy of the forest, searching for the moon that is no longer there, and as he watches, she strokes her slender fingers against the lump under her purple robes. Her crystal rests there on a leather string, pressed against her skin. Roshan has one, too, the same grass-green color of his robes. All the mystics possess a crystal. Without them, they would age and die. Hard to imagine Dimara aging. His fiancée is the most gorgeous mystic in the village, at least in his opinion, with her golden hair and green eyes and a spattering of light freckles across her nose.

She feels him staring and looks over, the nervous look vanishing into a soft smile. But it isn’t the same; her mouth doesn’t pull up all the way at the corners.

Why are we here, Roshan? she says as he takes her by the hand and leads her into the clearing of the Sacred Battleground.

It is the place where the mystics were first created by the Moon God and were given their powers and their first crystals. Holy ground. Four flat ceremonial stones of moon rock, taken from the home of the Moon God himself are arranged in a triangle, with the fourth and largest stone at the center. But it is the cliff that draws the attention of the young mystic couple. The edge of the cliff juts out over the ocean, which is catching the orange and pink light of the sunrise on its white, foaming crests.

Because, I wanted you to see this, he says. I wished to share this with you. Have you ever been here at sunrise?

No, says Dimara, breathless. It’s beautiful. She squeezes his hand tighter, a real smile on her face now, green eyes wide with wonder.

Perhaps we could get married at sunrise, right here, he says. What do you think?

Her face closes back up, the radiant smile gone. That nervous downward tilt of her eyebrows is back. Oh, I don’t think so. It’s gorgeous, my love, but if we wed here, we shall have no guests. A smirk pulls up one side of her mouth when she adds, No one is as crazy as you.

Roshan chuckles and then sighs. I don’t understand why everyone is so afraid. Staying in the village these days is like being trapped in a prison.

Roshan, the Guardians are gone. They’re dead, she says, biting at her lower lip. And what happened to them wasn’t natural. You heard the elders; they were murdered.

Roshan scoffs. They say they were murdered, but no one can say who did it. They have no proof of anything.

How do you explain Shoshanna disappearing? says Dimara. And Tristan?

They probably grew weary of being holed up in the village all the time, being told never to leave in the daylight. It’s driving me mad; it probably did the same to them. They left.

Dimara shakes her head, looking out over the ocean, the clouds now blazing with bright yellow hues instead of pink. We should not be here, she whispers. Without the Guardians, we are unprotected.

Roshan points two fingers down at the grass and then wiggles them upwards in a beckoning gesture. The earth responds to his magical call, and a red rose in full bloom sprouts from the soil. He plucks it and gets down on one knee, reaching out for Dimara’s hand and placing the rose in it.

I vow to be the only protection you ever need, my love, he says.

She pulls him to his feet and rewards him with a kiss. A rustling in the underbrush behind them makes Dimara dig her nails into Roshan’s shoulders.

What was that? she hisses, eyes wide with fright.

Roshan tenses his muscles under her hands, ready to push her behind him if need be. A man emerges from the trees, a fellow mystic in long black robes with ornate silver buttons down the front. A white, narrow mustache droops down from his upper lip, ending below his chin. His white hair is unusual for an immortal mystic.

Ah, Master Bitemeee, says Roshan, pronouncing the name Bi-Tee-Me. You startled us.

My sincerest apologies, young Roshan, Dimara, he says, nodding to each of them in turn. But I suppose you’re much like a couple of wary rabbits out here in the daytime, jumping at the slightest sound. What brings you out here without the protection of the moon?

Roshan was showing me the sunrise over the ocean, says Dimara, feeling much safer now that an elder mystic is with them. Isn’t it lovely?

Lovely indeed, says Bitemeee, grinning to reveal yellowed teeth.

What brings you here, Master Bitemeee? says Roshan.

Just a moonlit stroll through the forest that unintentionally lasted too long, says Bitemeee. I suppose I should head back now. I suggest you two do the same soon. Not the safest of times at the moment. Nonetheless, I apologize for interrupting your romantic sunrise. I have not forgotten what it is like to be young and in love, you know. Carry on.

Good day, Master Bitemeee, the young couple echoes one after the other, watching him turn to leave.

Dimara turns back to the risen sun, a burning ball of red and orange hovering just above the horizon line, and sniffs her red rose.

Thank you for bringing me here, she says, reaching for Roshan’s hand, which he gladly gives.

Thank you for coming.

But we really should be getting—

Her words are choked off into a scream as Roshan is ripped from her by gnarled hands around his throat. Roshan only has time to let out a choked cry of surprise before his crystal is yanked from his neck. He falls to his knees, feeling the loss of the crystal, feeling as though all his energy has been drained from his chest. Dimara, disoriented, takes a step toward him, searching for the attacker with wild eyes.

Master Bitemeee? she says in disbelief when she sees him there, Roshan’s green crystal clutched in his hands.

Bitemeee does not look away from the crystal and begins to chant an incantation. Though the day is warm, his breath forms an icy vapor cloud on the breeze as he says, Moonlight power burning bright, now to me—increase my might. From your crystal cage be freed; torn asunder by this unholy deed. Bathed in blood, light goes black. I accept all consequence, and won’t turn back.

Bitemeee begins to laugh as the green glow seeps from the crystal and swirls around his hand. It begins to turn black as it travels down his arm, and into his chest, where it vanishes, the crystal now a clear, hollow shell. A wavering, otherworldly shadow ripples around Bitemeee’s body as Roshan gasps on the ground, trying to catch his breath—his power source, the key to his immortality and magic, stolen away. Dimara chokes as a hellish scent of sulfur and smoke wafts toward her from the black aura surrounding Bitemeee. She takes a step back as Bitemeee’s eyes lock on her.

No, no, please don’t, she says, trying to think of a spell, but her mind is a blank, knowing the mystic before her is more powerful than she can ever hope to be. She has never been trained to fight.

Stop! says Roshan as Bitemeee takes two confident strides toward Dimara.

Roshan musters his strength with a determined cry and jumps in front of his fiancée, arms spread wide to shield her. With a flick of his wrist, Bitemeee tosses a ball of black energy into Roshan’s chest, making him tumble backward, screaming in pain and knocking Dimara aside in his struggle to remain upright. As the young mystic tries desperately to regain his footing, Bitemeee shoves him hard in the chest. Dimara screams and tries to leap for her love, but Roshan tumbles over the cliff’s edge, screaming her name all the way down to the jagged rocks below.

Dimara, flat on the ground, her arm still stretched out in her final attempt to grab Roshan’s hand, rolls over to see Bitemeee bearing down on her. Tears stream down her cheeks as she begs, Mercy, mercy! Please don’t.

Bitemeee reaches toward her, and she flinches away, expecting a death blow, but instead he rips the purple crystal from around her neck. He places a foot on her chest, holding her down as he repeats the spell and absorbs the power from her crystal.

Through her tears of anguish and terror, Dimara whispers, Why? Why?

Bitemeee throws back his head in a deep laugh. Dark times are upon us, my dear. The time of the mystics is coming to an end. This Earth does not need protectors; it needs a destroyer. There is nothing worth saving here. Humans are nothing but sniveling apes who destroy the natural resources they’ve been given. This world shall be reborn, and the superior species, the insects, shall reshape it from the ashes, with I as their god!

You’re mad! says Dimara.

Bitemeee cocks his head at her and bends down to wipe away a tear. You look sad, my dear. Ah, I see. You miss your love, yes? Do not fret, dear one, you will be reunited shortly.

Dimara’s blood-curdling scream sends birds flying from their roosts, but three miles away, the mystic village sleeps, entirely unaware.

CHAPTER

1

U NDER THE PHOSPHORESCENT glow of giant field lights, La Jolla High School is facing off with Major High late in the second quarter. Seth Rice, number 12 for the La Jolla Vikings, assesses the other team with dark eyes from behind his faceguard, his black hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He goes under the center and barks out the play. He quickly drops back to pass and looks to the right, then throws to his left, hitting number 88 in stride on a deep post pattern. The play goes for a twenty-yard gain when the home crowd cheers loudly for its star quarterback.

Coach Joe stands on the sideline with a smile on his face and turns to the Varsity coach of La Jolla High School.

Coach Robert, Seth is too advanced for sophomore football. We are 4–0, and with him averaging forty-two points a game, heck, I’ll replace him mid-third quarter so we won’t run up the score too bad.

Mmmm, mutters Coach Robert.

He has a quick release, a strong arm, very accurate. If he stays here, I guess we would go 10–0, like his freshman team. He is averaging over 250 yards a game. It’s not fair to him. I remove all the starters by the third quarter, and he is the second-fastest player on the team.

Second-fastest? asks Robert. Who is the first?

Uh, his brother, Sean.

Sean? What position does he play?

Wide receiver, replies Joe. But third string.

Coach Joe turns around and points to Sean, who sits on a bench, messy black hair brushing the top of the book his face is buried in.

Why is he reading a book? asks Robert.

He is not interested in football. He is some kind of genius, and he’s a year younger than Seth. I think he only plays because of Seth. When he and Seth warm up, he catches everything with good crisp routes at full speed, but in the game, he loses interest and runs sloppy routes and drops a lot of passes.

Interesting, mutters Robert, taking in Sean’s squared shoulders. Built like Seth, but a little stockier and shorter.

Yeah, that’s right, replies Joe.

The crowd goes wild as Seth completes a short out pass to number 88 for a touchdown. Seth raises both his hands in the air and runs to his favorite target, and they hug in the end zone.

Nice catch, Kev, says Seth with a smile.

Thanks, Seth, and nice throw, says Kevin, smiling back.

They both run off the field and take a seat next to Sean. The younger boy looks up from his copy of The Great Gatsby and tosses his hair out of his eyes, revealing a small scar that slashes through his left eyebrow.

With his helmet on the bench, the star quarterback’s black hair is sweaty and pushed back. He has a narrow, straight nose and a crisp jawline that contrasts with his little brother’s more rounded face. Kevin places his helmet under the seat and pushes back his long dirty blond hair in similar fashion.

Sean, what are you doing? asks Seth.

What does it look like I’m doing? replies Sean.

Uh, reading a book.

"Yes, Seth, I’m reading The Great Gatsby."

Yeah, but the game, replies Seth.

I am aware of the game: It is thirty-five – nothing, and you have two hundred eighty-eight yards passing seventeen for nineteen and five touchdowns. Kevin has ten catches for one hundred twelve yards and three touchdowns. By the way, Kevin, good game.

Thanks, Sean, says Kevin, practically laughing at the brothers.

Right, but you should get ready to play. The coach replaces the starters in the third quarter.

Well, Seth, I believe you may not play much longer, replies Sean.

What do you mean?

Well, the varsity coach is scouting you, and I believe you’re being promoted to varsity soon, real soon.

He gestures at the two coaches talking on the sidelines near the players.

Really? Seth smiles.

Yes, Seth, you are a significantly superior quarterback to Bruce, even though he is a senior. Plus, the varsity team is only 2–2 with our cross-town rival looming next week: San Diego High. They have beaten us seven times in a row, and we have failed to reach CIF for the last two years under Coach Robert. Change is in the air, and it’s barreling in with all the strength of a juggernaut.

Seth pays no attention to his brother’s strange way of talking, but Kevin gives a bemused grin and shakes his head at Sean’s overly formal speech. He’s always thought Sean sounded a little like Spock, or maybe an Old English gentleman.

Cool, so we three are going to be on the varsity as sophomores, says Seth.

Three? replies Sean. I am third string, and there is no way in hell I am going to varsity, but Kevin is the leading receiver and your favorite target, so I believe there is a chance he would accompany you.

I hope so, said Kevin. Varsity would be cool.

Yes, it would, says Seth.

The two high-five each other while Sean frowns and goes back to his book. Then Seth and Kevin glance at him and laugh.

Just a few feet away, the two coaches watch the boys’ interactions and talk quietly to each other.

Yes, Robert, says Joe. Seth is a great leader in practice, and on the field, he works hard with his starters and pushes them and encourages them to perform to be better. He is a good kid and a natural leader. He will fit in with the juniors and seniors on your team.

Great, replies Robert. I would like to see him lead us to our first ever CIF Championship.

I tell you, Robert, he is a one-of-a-kind player, one that comes every twenty years or so.

I believe you’re right. He will be our Golden Boy.

As both of the coaches laugh together, the second quarter ends, and La Jolla High goes in with a 35–0 lead into the locker room.

The players all follow the two leaders jogging off the grassy football field to head towards the tunnel, and they enter the football team locker room. All of the players smile and laugh as the two head coaches follow them; they watch the players all sit down around Seth, who begins to speak.

Great job guys for the first half, but football is a game of four quarters, so don’t watch the score. When we go out, it’s a new game. Let’s all go and do our best and have fun! yells Seth.

The team cheers loudly once Seth finishes, and they form a circle around him and shout, La Jolla High!

The players disband to drink water and relax in the locker room while the two head coaches go into an office to discuss Seth’s future.

Coach Joe sticks out his head and yells, Seth, come into my office.

Seth and Kevin glance at each other in unison and smile. They fist bump as Seth stands up and heads to the office. Seth enters the coaches’ room to see both coaches behind the desk.

Seth, nice first half, says coach Joe.

Thanks, coach, replies Seth.

Seth, you know the varsity coach, says Joe. He wants a word with you.

Sure, Coach.

Seth, you had an unbelievable freshman year, and you have only gotten better in your sophomore year. You have not missed a beat, so after observing you play for the last five games, I believe you are ready to jump on the varsity team.

Sure, Coach Robert.

Good. I expect you at practice tomorrow with the varsity team, and I know it’s a short week, since you played today on Monday. We practice until Wednesday, with a light practice on Thursday for Friday night’s game with those blockheads at San Diego High. I’m sure you know that’s a big one. I expect you to be ready for the following game next week, too.

Yeah, coach, I’ll be ready.

Then Coach Robert stands up and shakes Seth’s hand.

Uh, Coach?

Yes, Seth?

Could I bring up my little brother Sean to varsity? Uh, since Dad left, I kind of keep an eye on him.

We’ll see, Seth; he needs a lot of work to improve at catching the ball.

Come on, coach, give him a tryout. I’m not sure I can agree to join the varsity team if Sean doesn’t come with me.

Is that an ultimatum, kid? says Coach Robert, cocking an eyebrow.

I guess so, yeah. Me and Sean, we’re sort of a package deal. Football is our … brother bonding thing.

Okay, he at least gets a tryout. I’ll observe him in the second half.

Can Kevin come up?

Yeah Kevin can; he has potential, replies Robert.

Thanks, Coach.

Seth shakes Coach Robert’s hand and walks out of the office back to the locker room. The locker room is quiet, with all the players staring at him.

Seth, deep in thought about how he can make sure Sean moves up with him, takes a moment to notice them.

Uh, guys, I am moving up to Varsity.

All the players cheer and stand up to congratulate him and pat him on the shoulder.

CHAPTER

2

H ALFTIME IS OVER, and Seth leads his team back onto the field for the last time on the sophomore team.

Whispers begin to spread in the crowd, with the players informing the cheerleaders, who gab to the students in the stands that number 12 is heading to varsity as starting quarterback.

Coach Joe walks over to Seth and smiles, placing one hand on his shoulder.

Congratulations, son. You deserve it. I will miss you—you are by far the best player I have ever coached. Here is the varsity playbook; study it well. You are playing only one more series. He wants to see Sean play before I remove you from the game. So, Sean and Kevin are the starting receivers.

Sure, Coach, replies Seth.

Seth begins to warm up with Sean while Coach Robert observes from the sidelines next to Coach Joe.

See, in the warm-ups, Sean catches everything, but in the game, it’s a different story, says Joe.

Mmm. He seems to have good hands, and he accelerates well, with a nice crisp route, mutters Robert.

Yup, that’s what I thought, but watch him in the game, says Joe. It’s almost like he drops passes on purpose so he can sit on the bench to read.

Mmmm, interesting theory, mutters Robert.

The second half is about to begin, with the crowd chanting Seth! Seth! over and over, getting louder and louder.

Sean, you are starting over Ray! yells Joe.

Huh? What, coach? But I’m third string! replies Sean. What about Larry? He’s second string.

Sean, don’t you want to play football? yells Joe with excitement, pumping his arms.

Uh, not really; I’d rather read my books, replies Sean.

Get the hell in the game! Joe yells in Sean’s face. And hold onto the football.

Sure, coach. Uh, you don’t want to think about it? mutters Sean.

Shut up and get in there—your team is waiting for you! yells Joe.

The team is in the huddle, and Seth yells, Sean, get in here!

Uh, okay, mutters Sean in panic.

He searches for his helmet, looking everywhere.

Coach, I can’t find my helmet.

What? yells Joe.

Grab Ray’s helmet.

But coach, it’s all sweaty and full of germs.

What? yells Joe.

Germs coach, everyone knows that sweat is full of germs, replies Sean.

The coach stares at him with a puzzled look on his face and then turns red when he screams at Sean, Grab any helmet and get in there!

Seth calls a timeout and runs over to the sideline to avoid a delay of game penalty.

Sean, what’s wrong? asks Seth.

I can’t find my helmet, and I don’t want to wear someone else’s helmet—it may be full of germs.

Seth smiles at his younger brother then points at the bench. It’s on that bench.

Yeah thanks, Seth.

Sean straps on his helmet, and the two brothers jog onto the field as the crowd cheers deafeningly.

The offense lines up as Seth drops back and fires a pass to Sean, who is running a crossing pattern with Kevin. Sean raises his head, and the ball goes through his hands, striking him in the facemask, with the football falling to the ground incomplete.

See, Coach Robert, it was a perfect pass! He was wide open, and he missed it.

Yes, I saw that, replies Robert.

Back in the huddle, Seth huffs through his nose and gives Sean an exasperated look. What happened?

I missed it, says Sean with a shrug.

The team breaks the huddle and lines up for the next play as Seth barks out the orders. He drops back to pass, and he looks to his left, then throws to his right, with the pass hitting Sean in the chest on a post pattern. The ball bounces off Sean’s chest and falls to the ground for an incomplete pass. The crowd starts to boo and yell at Sean to catch the ball.

They are in the huddle again, and Seth shakes his head.

I guess you are not planning to catch a pass in front of Coach Robert?

No, I am not, replies Sean, so stop throwing me the ball, or your stats are going to get worse.

Kevin, this is my last series as the quarterback for the sophomore team, so go deep and let’s go out on top, said Seth.

Okay, Seth, replies Kevin.

The Vikings set up with Kevin on the far-right side and Sean on the far-left side near Major High’s sideline. The cornerback for Major High jeers at Sean, You suck. You can’t play. Go back to the bench.

Sean stares at him and replies, My brother is going to throw a bomb to Kevin and score a touchdown.

They are going deep to number 88! yells Major High’s coach to his players, jumping up and down pointing at number 88 on the far field.

The play starts, and Kevin takes off running when both safeties move over to help on the coverage with the cornerback. Sean stands there as Seth throws a forty-yard pass, hitting Kevin in stride running the last two yards for a touchdown.

On his nonchalant walk back to the bench, Sean passes the cornerback and says, perfectly matter-of-fact, See?

He walks past both coaches, and they stare at him as he sits down. He unstraps his helmet and collects his book to read. Coach Joe walks over to him with both hands on his hips.

What are you doing? asks Joe.

Geez, why does everyone ask me that?

No, son, you are playing both ways. You are starting at safety on defense! yells Joe.

I don’t play defense, remember?

You do now. Get out there! yells Joe.

Okay.

Seth and Kevin park themselves next to Sean.

Ugh, coach is pissed at me and making me play both ways now, mutters Sean.

Seth and Kevin both laugh at him.

Hey, Sean, most players only dream of doing that, said Kevin.

Thanks, guys, mutters Sean. He shakes his head and slowly trots back into the game.

Coach Robert approaches Seth and smiles. Seth, great throw! It was a perfect catch, Kevin.

Both players nod at the coach.

What’s up with your brother?

He doesn’t like to play any sports, replies Seth.

Why is he on the team? asks Robert.

To be with me.

Okay, Seth, fair enough. Study our playbook and draw some up for yourself too.

Sure, coach.

Your day is over. Go shower and study. I will see you tomorrow at practice, two p.m. sharp.

I’ll be there.

CHAPTER

3

S ETH UNSTRAPS HIS shoulder pads and heads towards the stands to search for Tommy, his good friend. He brushes his wet hair back with his right hand. He kicks his cleats on a bench to loosen the grass, and he sees the grass stains on his pants. A squeal and a shout of his name makes Seth look over to see Angie running toward him across the field in full blue and silver cheerleader uniform. She’s let her black hair down from her ponytail, and it swishes around her shoulder blades.

Seth, I just heard you are the starting quarterback for varsity. Angie hugs him. You are so much better than the other guy and a lot cuter. She giggles, cupping her manicured hand over her bright red lipstick like her laugh is a secret shared only between the two of them.

Uh thanks, Angie, says Seth, a little shocked, and trying not to focus too much on how well Angie wears her uniform.

"Seth, since we are totally going to be the sophomore king and queen again at the homecoming dance this week, she says with chin held high, aannd since we are the most popular sophomores, we should go together. I mean, duh! We’d look great together."

Uh-uh, mumbles Seth, flinching at Angie’s piercing, overly excited voice. He couldn’t care less about being homecoming king again.

The rest of the squad, hot on their head cheerleader’s heels, forms a swarm around the two of them.

Seth, you’re awesome, says Mindy, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she claps for him. Congrats on being the starting QB for varsity! Escort me to the dance?

No, Seth, says Josie. Come with me! We make a darling couple.

Angie pulls a dangerous face over a hollow laugh. Puh-lease, ladies, who was the freshman queen? Pretty sure it was me, and I am a lock for sophomore queen.

Really, Angie? snaps Mindy. I plan to take that crown and Seth.

Really? Says who? snaps Angie.

Yeah really, says me, snaps Mindy.

Seth shakes his head and continues to walk to the stands, still full of celebrating fans, when he sees Tommy standing in front of the first row, waiting for him. Tommy’s cheeks look even chubbier than usual in his wide face because his smile is so huge. The grin is so jubilant it even scrunches his nose, hiding some of his light freckles.

Great game, Seth, ole buddy, says Tommy, raising his hand for a high five that Seth returns. Heard you are the starting quarterback for varsity next week.

Yeah, looks that way.

Standing side by side, the two could hardly look more different—the fit, tall quarterback with softly curling black hair and the short, pudgy oddball with a light brown crew cut—but the two have been nearly inseparable at school since last year’s homecoming game.

Seth had come off the field victorious, receiving congratulatory high fives and shoulder slaps all around, and headed toward the locker room when he’d spotted a group of guys surrounding a much smaller boy wearing baggy jeans with a red t-shirt with race cars on it. Seth had seen Tommy around and knew him vaguely as a class clown, so he’d stopped to see what was going on. He quickly recognized two of the other boys: Auk and Rascal, the biggest bullies at school. They were both huge with very little brain. Auk had a pug-nose that often made him look like he’d smelled something bad—probably himself—and he always wore a ratty black ponytail down his back. His buddy Rascal was completely bald (he even shaved off his eyebrows, perhaps in an attempt to make himself more menacing) and had a lumpy, misshapen nose from too many fights. The two of them were usually covered in bruises, especially Rascal. Seth often saw them smoking marijuana behind the school, and he suspected they sometimes smoked stronger things, too. Both had been held back twice, so they should have been seniors, but they were still hanging out in Seth’s classes.

Hey, blubber boy, you could be the whole offensive line! Auk said, his puffy lips twisted in a sneer.

Tommy smiled and took the insults in stride, as if he was used to them. But then Rascal reached into his bag of Jolly Ranchers and pelted one at Tommy’s face, hitting him in the eye with the hard candy.

Ouch! Stop that! pleaded Tommy, but Auk and the other boys grabbed handfuls from Rascal’s bag.

Tommy tried his best to block and avoid the candy, without success. Auk’s girlfriend, Jessica, a tall, slender African American girl with a fluffy black afro and a beautiful, angular face, stood a few feet away. Until the candy was thrown, she’d looked completely bored, but at the sound of Tommy’s pleas, her face lit up in a gorgeous but frightening smile. Seth knew a little bit about Jessica because of Angie. Jessica had been a cheerleader, but she’d quit because it was too much work. She still dressed like the other cheerleaders, though, in tight pants and a spaghetti-strapped blue top.

Looking at the odds of five massive guys against himself and Tommy, who probably wouldn’t be much help, Seth had almost walked away. But then he had a horrible vision of things escalating, as they tended to do when Auk and Rascal were involved. He pictured Tommy with a bloody lip and black eye, Auk and Rascal kicking him on the ground without mercy. That was what had happened to the last kid who’d tried to stand up to Auk.

Does it hurt, blubber boy? yelled Auk.

I thought all the fat would protect you! said Rascal.

Their laughter had made Seth’s blood boil, and he’d reared back and let the game-winning ball fly. It struck Auk’s hand, knocking a candy from his grip, and bounced off to strike Rascal in the arm.

Ouch! mumbled Auk. He shook his hand in the air, waving the pain out.

Yeah, ouchie! mumbled Rascal. He rubbed his arm with his hand over the red spot.

Who threw that? yelled Auk, searching for the individual.

I did, yelled Seth. Did it hurt?

Uh, yeah, muttered Auk.

Duh, yeah, mumbled Rascal.

Good! Now you know how it feels to get hit by something hard, yelled Seth, so stop!

Yeah. Who says, pretty boy? snickered Auk.

The five guys headed down the stands towards Seth on the sidelines.

Me, tough guy, replied Seth.

Yeah, you’re not too bright—it’s five against one, said Rascal with a dopey grin.

Really? Check your eyes, baldy, said Seth with a smile after looking over his shoulder.

The whole football team came over.

Is there a problem, Seth? Kevin said.

Uh, no problem, replied Auk, taking a few steps back.

Tommy chuckled at the frightened look on Auk’s face, and the bully’s features hardened.

This is not over, pretty boy, growled Auk as he pointed his finger at Seth, but he and his friends were already retreating as he said it.

Anytime, you ponytailed fool! barked Seth.

The group of bullies walked away, and Jessica sauntered over to loop her arm up with Auk’s, throwing Seth a nasty look over her shoulder.

Tommy walked over to Seth after the other left the stands.

Thanks, Seth. Uh, I know you don’t know me, but my name is Tommy.

Sure, I know you, Tommy, said Seth, and it was no problem.

He turned away and started to walk toward the locker room to shower when Tommy yelled, Hey, Seth, you’re my best friend.

Surprised, Seth turned his head. When he saw the genuine, grateful look on Tommy’s smiling face, he couldn’t help but smile back before disappearing into the tunnel that led to the locker room.

After that day, Tommy had latched himself to Seth’s side, but neither Seth nor any of his friends had minded. Tommy was tons of fun and always good for a laugh when you were feeling down. Auk and Rascal had left him alone after that, too.

CHAPTER

4

N OW, A CROWD starts to form around Tommy, and they all yell at Seth to congratulate him. Seth smiles and waves to them.

Seth starts to scan the crowd in the stands and stops at a young blond girl staring at him. She is sitting in the top right-hand corner of the bleachers with a girl with short black hair and glasses.

He smiles at her and winks, a thrill going through him when she blushes.

Up in the stands, Amber turns her blond head quickly to her friend and whispers, Karen, he caught me staring at him.

Karen smiles. So?

He smiled and winked at me.

That’s good, Amber. I think he likes you.

No way! Angie is way prettier than me, and she has her claws in him. Amber gestures down at her baggy jeans, loose gray t-shirt, and beat-up white tennis shoes as if to make her point, and then fidgets nervously with the dark blue sweater over her shoulder.

Amber, looks aren’t everything, says Karen. She leans in closer. "I heard his brother is a genius, and he moved up a grade this year to be with Seth. So, if it runs in the family, Seth probably has some