Super Nobody (Alphas and Omegas Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

very first day of
sixth grade, just as he knew it would. The Trent legacy wasn't
forgotten. Of course not. He just had to wait until it came and poinked him in the head. Only in sixth grade, he wasn't
going to be stupid about the whole thing. He went out at lunch
recess that day warily, watching the skies for incoming dodge balls
and sneaking Trent shadows.
    Looking around the playground, he was
surprised to find that nothing had changed. It was one of those
wonderful things about school; the first graders were swarming the
place, and they looked smaller than ever. Second graders were
engaged in the beginnings of cliques. Clusters of girls could be
seen here and there, talking and giggling. Boys scrabbled around on
all fours or threw themselves off the monkey bars recklessly. The
older kids were playing four square, lined up and talking about
strategies. They were dodging and shooting hoops as well. Other
groups were looking at cards or comics. A few, he knew, were in the
library drawing or reading books.
    And nobody came over to him. None of them
launched a dodge ball at him, or made an obviously horrid pass with
a basketball to whack him in the chest. In fact, when he finally
meandered over and around the playground, he got the distinct
impression that people were watching him. Nobody would stare at
him, of course, not full on. But there were a bunch of times he
could have sworn people kept looking away as soon as he turned to
look at them.
    The fact hit home just as soon as he sat down
on one of the courtside benches. The four girls who were sitting at
the other side immediately got up and left. He had the whole bench
to himself.
    The very idea that people were scared of him
made him laugh. Which made more of them stare at him. And that, of
course, made him laugh harder. So he went and sat in the mini
section of bleachers at the opposite of the court. It was like in
Panetti's art class, when they dropped rubbing alcohol on
watercolor. One second there was vibrant color, and the next second
there was a perfect circle of white, the color retreating.
    He couldn't stop laughing for a whole week.
By the end of that week, he was sure everyone thought he was
completely insane. He wasn't sure they were wrong, but boy did it
feel great to be free of Trent's long reach.
    Speaking of Trent, where exactly was he?
Michael had lived in a sort of bubble for the first eleven years of
his life, not really considering where other people were, or what
they were doing. More than that, he was never sure if Trent was
punished for breaking one of the bones in Michael's hand, or why
his family hadn't called and been outraged. The whole thing had
just disappeared.
    The conclusion was that Trent had gone over
to the Marcus Patterson wing, which wasn't actually a wing. It was
a squarish building, dirty and ominous, a football field away from
the LADCEMS. As far as he knew, it was a prison and the eighth
graders never had any sort of break at all. They just vanished.
    The nice scars on his hand hadn't
disappeared. He hadn't imagined the whole thing. They were puckered
craters, lighter than the skin on the rest of his hand. There were
a couple of others on his palm, from where the glass had cut into
him. As the weeks went by, he liked to pretend that they were
bothering him, and stretch his hand out while hissing loudly.
Everybody got the message.
    Michael’s former friends from grades one
through four stayed gone. So what if they’d had good times in
grades one through four. Good riddance, Michael thought. He was
better served traveling to some far distant land, where people
landed on solid clouds and met pirates who collected lightning.
These were his friends. They didn't demand anything of him, and he
controlled when they came and went.
    He spent the first semester studying hard,
because there wasn't anything else to do and because his mother
demanded nothing less than perfection. Once, at the beginning of
the first semester, his science teacher