Girl Incredible

Chapter 5: New Girl

The Prime Minister of Great Britain shakes my hand, his still chill with cold sweat as his MI6 agents and local police surround us. I ignore the explosions from behind me where the attacking assassin's van takes out half a city block, the semtex explosives chain reacting.

Good thing I got him out in time.

"The British government is in your debt, Ms. Ore," he says, voice shaking. J.J. grins over his shoulder, as cocky and handsome as ever, though there's dust in his hair and a smudge of ash on his cheek. Not like he was much help, getting himself knocked out like that. Leaving me to save the day, as usual.

"All in a day's work, sir," I say, backing away with a short salute. "The CIA is always happy to help our friends across the pond."

***

"-ten sixty six. Kit MacLean?"

I look up from my doodling, grinning at the expression on J.J.'s face at Kitalia's little speech, and realize Ms. Zipple is looking right at me with a strained smile. Her thin fingers clasp the chalk in her hand like she's ready to use it to defend herself against some kind of attack. Which gives me the answer I'm looking for.

Everyone is staring. I glance at the question on the board to confirm I have it right and bob a nod. "The Battle of Hastings," I say. Ms. Zipple's smile eases, hands falling to the folds of her plaid skirt, and she nods.

"Very good, Kit. Nice to know someone is paying attention."

Yup. I'm just that incredible. Saving Prime Ministers and coming up with the right answer? Snap. Good thing I love history and read ahead this summer. A girl can never be too prepared for grade eleven epic awesomeness.

I just wish classes weren't so boring. I'd love to be able to ask a ton of questions and maybe direct the lesson toward more interesting things, but I discovered a long time ago teachers don't appreciate questions. Mind you, I think being told I h****k class is a bit harsh, considering the fact when I do pay attention, things are always much more interesting.

Not that it really matters. I have tons of things to keep me occupied. But, as the bell rings for lunch, I happily let Kitalia return to CIA headquarters on her own in favor of catching up at last with my buddy, Jimmy.

I find him in his usual place in the corner of the cafeteria. I wish sometime he'd relocate, maybe up closer to the front where some of the other kids hang out. I worry he's so alone all the time. At least he has me. I settle quickly next to him at the narrow table and pull out my lunch from my messenger bag.

"Smells like tuna." The slippery plastic reveals I'm right. And, though my tummy is rumbling in protest, I grin as I slide the deliciousness across the sticky, cracked surface toward Jimmy's right hand. He doesn't look at me, just takes the sandwich and opens the bag. The faint strains of some thrash metal screaming echoes from the earbuds he wears while I bite into the firm flesh of my deep, green apple.

Granny Smith. My favorite. Thanks, Mom.

"How were your first two classes?" I pause in chewing to check in with Jimmy. "I had geography and history. Sounds like it's going to be an exciting first semester, right?" My laugh turns to a tiny snort I've always thought adorable. Jimmy clearly agrees as he stuffs half a side of sandwich in his mouth, big teeth masticating the tuna. I take particular joy in watching him eat, if only because I've been doing it for the last ten years. I have no idea if Mom is even aware of the fact I've never had one of her bagged sandwiches at school. From the moment we met, from the first time I realized Jimmy came to school empty handed, without a lunch of his own, I've been offering up mine for him to eat.

He never complains if it's canned ham, even devours bologna if Mom runs out of the good stuff. I nibble the corner of my granola bar while he completes the decimation of the sandwich with one more huge bite and wonder if I should start asking Mom for two from now on. He's a growing boy, isn't he?

I'm just finishing catching him up on my morning-and filling him in on the rest of my summer-when I spot the new girl, Tate, sitting alone by the exit. Now, don't judge me or anything. Jimmy and I are great friends and I would never abandon him. But, I just know she needs someone to talk to, and he has his iPod. Besides, he's had my company for a good fifteen minutes now. That will hold him over until I see him again on the bus.

The garbage from my lunch returns to the brown paper bag in a flash, including the sandwich plastic as I leap to my feet. "See you later, Jimmy! Have a great afternoon." I leave him, beelining toward Tate, absently pausing to toss my trash into the big bin. I have to turn back-have to-because someone missed the garbage with their chip wrapper and soda can. Honestly, some people have the worst aim! The only problem, when I return to my original trajectory, I realize Tate is gone.

Well, bummer. I glance at my giant watch, the fluorescents overhead flashing on the surface. I still have ten minutes before the bell. Might as well see if I can track her down.

Turns out I don't have far to go. As I pass a group of cheerleaders, calling out hellos to them while they hunch over their compacts and ignore their food, I spot Tate leaving the room through the back entry into the hall behind the stage. She obviously doesn't know where she's going. A tour is definitely in order. I hurry after her, my boot slipping on a patch of spilled something while one of the boys at the table next to it snickers.

He must have slipped on it, too. Shared jokes get me every time. I grin at him and hurry on.

It's dark behind the swinging door, but not completely. Just a big change from the huge windows in the cafeteria to only a few flickering bulbs overhead. I spot Tate going around the corner at the end of the hall and pick up speed, one hand holding down my bag so it doesn't bounce so much. Sure, she can get to the main part of the school from here, but there are way better paths to take.

She has so much to learn.

I round the corner with a good head of speed on, my boots thudding on the floor. When I turn, I spot Tate and realize she's not alone. The grungy hall is kind of crowded, actually, a bunch of bigger boys standing around her outside the washroom. I wave at the stink of cigarette smoke and other, more powerful scents and do my best not to think about what goes on in there. I don't come this way very often, on purpose.

Boys are gross about their personal spaces.

I almost turn around. Tate clearly has people she knows here who are willing to show her the ropes. Until I realize just who these boys are. I recognize them, know their reputations. Sure, I might be a little on the optimistic, glass always full side, but even I'm aware of the fact bullying happens in Rimtree High. Embarrassing, shameful and absolutely unacceptable. But, it happens.

From what I've been told, anyway.

Not the kind of people Tate should be hanging out with her first day here. Someone has to tell her she's falling in with the wrong crowd. And I'm the only one around to do it.

A tingle of fear traces down my spine. They haven't seen me yet. I could just walk away. Wow, where did that come from? I'm shocked by my reaction, clutch at my chest when it rises. Listen here, Kit Maclean. You've made it your mission to face your fear since you were little, remember? I don't recall why, or what makes doing so feel so important. Just that the thought of walking away while Tate is in any kind of risk of being bullied makes my stomach clench.

My dedication to eradicating anything resembling fear from my life has led me to the awesome amazingness I am today. And I'm not about to let a new girl who doesn't know any better hang out to dry because I was nervous of some boys.

Besides, what would Kitalia do? She'd march in there and save the day.

Consider it done.

With a smile plastered on my face and Tate's safety in my heart, I stride into the fray and poke my nose in where others would fear to sniff.

***