The Demon Conspiracy (3 page)

I’d been an eighth grader at Franklin Middle
School in Chantilly, Virginia, for a whole month, so there were
plenty of kids I didn’t know yet. But for someone to hate me
already, well, that didn’t seem fair. I was sure if they knew me
they’d realize I wasn’t the kind of person people hated. Maybe they
were thinking about some other Kelly and got the last name
wrong.

If I could just find out who it was, I’d
talk to them, maybe even be friends. Of course to do that I’d have
to tune in to their thoughts. I decided to start with three of the
more popular and pretty girls in the next row.

Brandy Barnette:
Anthony’s so cute. I wish he’d go out with
me.

Heather Hoskins:
If Anthony looks at me I’ll die! How come he
won’t look at me?

Ann Bockman.
Should I invite Anthony to my pool party? He’d
probably say no.

Okay, the only person
those girls cared about was Anthony Mall, the tallest and cutest
boy in the eighth grade. Since Anthony was in such big demand I got
curious about which girl
he
might like. I peeked into his thoughts from
across the room.

I bet I failed that science quiz. I’m gonna
play pro football some day. I really like cheese pizza.

I fought off a major
chuckle. I shouldn’t have been surprised though, after all
he
was
a boy. I
wiped the drool off the desk with a tissue and spent the rest of
the period trying to track down the
thinker
who despised me. Minutes
before the bell I still had no idea who it was.

I first knew I could read minds when my
younger brother, Travis, was just a toddler. Whenever he got upset
I could enter his thoughts like a light breeze and sing him to
sleep, or just speak to him inside his head. He talked back to me
that way, too, but he’s not telepathic. As far as I knew, I could
read the thoughts of just about anybody, except crazy people and my
older brother Jon. Crazy people were on a different wavelength so I
couldn’t tune into them. And Jon, well, I could read his thoughts
just fine until he sensed something was going on, then he’d
completely block me out. Travis and I kept my ability a secret. Jon
must have known, too, since he blocked me all the time, but we
never talked about it.

Travis wasn’t telepathic but he had a
special skill, too. He could feel emotion in other people like it
was his own. Usually it was a good thing, but it took him a few
years to get it under control. There was this time when he was
seven and we were standing on a sidewalk waiting to cross the
street. A whole line of cars went by with headlights on. It was a
funeral. All the sadness of the people in that funeral procession
literally knocked Travis to the ground. He started bawling
uncontrollably and couldn’t stop until the cars were way down the
road. I just stood there, all embarrassed, and looked at him like
he was crazy. Good thing I could read his mind and figure out what
the problem was.

My brothers and I had been orphans ever
since the accident. I shivered every time I thought about it. A
judge made us live in separate state homes or with different foster
families for seven years, which kind of sucked. The foster families
I stayed with were nice enough and I made plenty of friends at the
children’s home. But I hardly ever got to see Jon or Travis,
usually only at Christmas or on our birthdays. It was the loneliest
time of my life until last month when Angie and Chris McCormick
took in all three of us. They’re two of the nicest people I’ve ever
known.

The school bell rang and I gathered my
things. I pulled on my backpack and followed the rest of the class
out the door. Along the way somebody shoved me into the doorjamb. I
lost my balance and nearly tasted floor wax. Without looking back I
figured it must have been my fault.

“Sorry,” I said. But abruptly I sensed
something was terribly wrong. I turned.

Donnivee Fox glared back at me with fierce
green eyes and a sneer on her face that would have scared a
pit-bull. I didn’t have to scan her thoughts to know she wanted to
start a fight right there.

“
What’re
you
lookin’ at?”
Donnivee clenched her fists.

“Nothing,” I said, trying
to walk away from her. Though we were nearly the same height,
Donnivee was heavier than I was and probably stronger, too. She’d
been in fights before and whether she’d won or not didn’t matter. I
didn’t want to fight her.
Ever
.

“That’s bull crap!” Donnivee pushed me into
the wall. Students gathered around us to watch. I realized I might
have to fight just to stay alive. That would get me a black eye,
maybe a broken nose and a three-day suspension. What would Angie
say about that?

Suddenly, a smallish, pale
girl dressed entirely in black stepped between us. I’d seen the
girl before in science class, but we’d never spoken to each other.
The girl stood before Donnivee with a tilted head and bulging eyes.
Her lower jaw hung slack. She looked positively
psycho
. Was she going to start
drooling next? I don’t read emotions like Travis, but it was clear
as crystal that Donnivee was afraid of that girl.

Luckily, Mrs. Cecere, my last-hour teacher,
happened to walk by.

“Donnivee Fox!” said Mrs.
Cecere sternly. “Go to your next class.
Now!
”

Donnivee never looked at the teacher. She
tried to glare at me, but her gaze kept darting over to the girl in
black. “Yes, Mrs. Cecere.” She shot me one of those
I’ll-get-you-later looks, then stomped down the hall.

“Are you okay, Kelly?” asked Mrs.
Cecere.

The fear must have shown in my eyes or maybe
she saw my hands shaking. It’s kind of hard to explain, but
whenever I almost get the crap beat of me I get pretty scared. I
can’t lock away my fear the way Jon does.

“
I’m fine.” Thank God my
voice was steadier than the rest of me.

“If you have a problem with her you’ll let
me know, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The girl in black looked normal again and
winked at me. She went down the hall as if nothing had happened. I
thought about winking back, but I couldn’t close just one eye. I
don’t wink, I blink. It’s kind of embarrassing, like having dust in
both eyes.

I shook badly well into my next class and my
stomach felt like it was tied up in squishy knots. From that day on
I tried to keep mentally tuned in to Donnivee whenever she was
within range.

***

When I got to life science class at the end
of the day Mrs. Cecere had moved the girl in black to the vacant
seat beside me. The classroom didn’t have desks, just these black
tables with shiny tops where you could cut up crayfish or frogs or
other gross stuff and the juice wouldn’t soak into the furniture.
Each table seated two people and since I was the last person to
join an already even-numbered class I had sat alone. But not
anymore. The girl in black introduced herself.

“I’m Melissa,” she said, grinning with
perfect, ultra white teeth. “Melissa Godwin. Since we sit at the
same table now I figure we should get to know each other.”

“Kelly Bishop,” I said. “Thanks for helping
me.”

“No problem. You’re the one Donnivee hates
so much.”

“Why does Donnivee hate me?”

“Because you’re way prettier than her.”

“No, I’m not. She’s got that gorgeous blonde
hair.”

“She’s cute for a
thug
. But most boys are
afraid of her. That’s because she’s beaten most of them
up.”

“She beats up boys?”

“Or girls. Sooner or later Donnivee hates
you. And when she hates you, she beats you up. Your last name is
Bishop, huh? That’s a good name for a chess player. It’s not as
good as King or Queen or even McQueen. But it’s still pretty good.”
As she spoke Melissa reached into her backpack and took out a
brochure. She passed the brochure to my side of the table. I read
the heading out loud.

“The Halloween Classic Open Chess
Tournament? Why’d you give me this?”

“If you’re really good at chess you’ll want
to play in that tournament. There’s scholarships and prize money
and stuff. Even if you’re not sure how good you are, you should
still find out.”

I lightly explored Melissa’s thoughts, but
she suddenly looked me right in the eye. “What?”

I stopped the scan and backed off. Had she
detected me inside her mind? “How’d you know I play chess?”

“Easy. I’m gonna be a detective. And if you
need a body guard I’m your girl.”

I sized her up from head to foot. Melissa
was possibly the skinniest girl in our class. “Why is Donnivee
afraid of you?”

“She thinks I’m crazy
and
nobody
messes
with a crazy person. If I’m around you all the time, Manson
Stanfield won’t bother you either.”

“Who’s Manson Stanfield?”

“Donnivee’s only friend. Manson isn’t tough,
but she likes to watch fights, so she hangs out with Donnivee
‘cause sooner or later Donnivee will get in a fight with somebody.
But not with you, if I’m around. I’m your only hope.”

I wasn’t sure if this girl was serious,
kidding, or just plain weird. But I liked her just the same. I
played along. “Okay, you’re hired.”

“You’re safer already.”

Mrs. Cecere started class then and we didn’t
get another chance to talk until after the bell rang. But when
science class was over, I decided that I’d stumbled onto my newest
best friend. I really liked this strange girl. We traded phone
numbers and planned to go to the mall together that Sunday.

“I don’t have a cell phone,” I said. “I live
with foster parents. I don’t think they can afford to get us cell
phones.”

“That would be rather pricey, three phones,
for you and your brothers.”

I looked at Melissa sideways. “Seriously,
how do you know so much about me?”

“Maybe I’m not really going to be a
detective. Maybe I’m a stalker.”

***

I’d hate living with neat freaks. I’ve never
had a lot of clothes and stuff, but I like to keep what I do have
in its proper place on the floor. I’ve had dressers and bins and
closets, but never used them. It probably seems odd, but hey, it’s
my system.

The first time I saw where
Chris and Angie McCormick lived I figured they
had
to be neat freaks, and that
could mean trouble. Their house was an ordinary two-story with a
double-car garage. But they kept it in flawless, apple-pie order.
The lawn and shrubs were trimmed like a golf course and the
country-style front porch was so clean you could eat off the
decking. Not that I would, of course. I prefer plates. Generally
speaking, the place was so perfect I never saw a single cobweb in
the house. When I showed up the very first time I just knew they’d
yell at me for walking on the lawn, or dropping crumbs, or even
sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch. I could almost
hear them.

Stay off the grass! Pick
up your crumbs!
Don’t rock, you’ll scratch
the decking!

Fortunately, Chris and Angie weren’t like
that at all. They were neat, but not OCD. To prove it, all anyone
had to do was look in their basement. It was jammed with boxes, old
furniture and other junk all stacked from floor to ceiling. We
couldn’t even find space to play down there. I guess everybody
needs at least one junky looking room. Of course, after I moved in
they had two.

I think somebody ought to do a case study on
Angie and Chris about opposites attracting. They’re both forty, but
Angie seemed way younger and looked it, too. Maybe if Chris had
more hair and lost a little weight it wouldn’t have been so
obvious. Yet as different as they were, I knew their love for each
other was true. They sort of reminded me of my real parents. I
could tell they were in love.

Chris taught English at Chantilly High
School, the same school where Jon had started his junior year.
Chris was your typical guy—average height, build, paunch and
receding hairline. He wanted everyone to think he was laid back and
easy-going, but I knew he was a worrier. That man worried about
everything from the economy to whether he should become a
vegetarian to the possibility of UFOs existing. He even had a deep
down fear of becoming a zombie, which might be why he’d lost so
much of his hair. But there wasn’t a cruel bone in his body and he
got along with kids. I liked him a lot.

And Angie? Well, Angie was
special. She was
so
pretty with her slim body and short cut, auburn hair. Her
large, dark eyes could stare a sarcastic hole right through
somebody when she was annoyed with them. She did it often with
Chris, but I figure he probably liked the attention. It took a lot
to get that woman bothered; she had a sort of philosophy of calm.
In her own words, “Why worry? Action beats fear almost every time.”
I liked that.

Angie worked out a lot too. She did yoga,
lifted weights and walked for miles and miles, but nobody ever
walked with her. Anyone who did would have to run to keep up. She
was a fitness freak.

Since living with them I’d
even heard the A-word pop into their thoughts every so
often.
Adoption
.
The McCormicks hadn’t spoken to each other about it yet, but the
possibility was on both their minds. I tried not to think about it.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.

Like I said, the
McCormicks kept a neat place, but unfortunately the house next door
to them was a real dump. It was vacant and no wonder with a sagging
front porch, broken windows, and a desperate need for paint. Both
houses were settled side by side in a quiet cul-de-sac with the
next nearest place over a mile away. Talk about privacy! There
wasn’t even traffic noise. Everything around them was just
trees,
lots
of
trees.