New Arrival

"Do you see that kid?”

The three sophomore boys standing in the hall of Gulinger Private Academy turned their heads with their pal Tom and peered down the school hallway where he had pointed out a reddish-brown haired boy no older than thirteen who was standing in front of the school office doors, scuffing his new leather shoes on the linoleum like he hated the very feel of them. He didn’t look comfortable in the school uniform either. His hair stuck up some as if no bit of combing would do to make it neat. His eyebrows were also on the bushier side. And he was frowning.

“Yeah. I see him,” Matt replied. The fifteen-year-old leader of their group ruffled his own hair in wonder, which completed his devil-may-care look—especially with how he always wore the white button-down shirt to blue-and-white uniform with two buttons open and the tie untied, stuffed somewhere in his pocket.

“We got a new one,” said Tom, a tallish, platinum blond boy with a similar devil-may-care attitude as Matt. He grinned crookedly, watching the thirteen-year-old through classy black sunglasses, a gray hoodie over his uniform, the hood hanging down. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, his smirk crooking up higher.

Their other two pals, Troy and Randon, nodded together. Dark hair and blue eyes. Nearly identical, those two could have been brothers—though they weren’t even related. Most at the school could barely tell them apart, except Troy always wore a turtleneck underneath his school uniform and often clenched his neck on one side.

“So who’s taking bets?” Randon asked, taking out his lucky hot pink rabbit’s foot to rub it.

Troy, who wore a brown turtleneck underneath his school uniform that day, dug up a five dollar bill and held out. “This five says he’s a ghoulie.”

“I vote for mafi.” Matt cast the newcomer a glance. The new boy had peeked at them, drew in a breath and exhaled, hanging his shoulders. “The kid seems normal.”

“I say ghoulie,” Randon peeked at the new boy also, shaking his head. “Outward appearances can be deceiving.”

“So what do you say?” Matt turned to Tom. “Mafi or ghoulie?”

Taking off his sunglasses, Tom revealed a pair of orange eyes. He closed one as he screwed up his mouth in thought. “I dunno. His imps are pretty weird. He has to be ghoulie.”

“What are they saying?”

Smirking, Tom glanced at his pal and replied, “They’re telling him to bite us.”

Randon broke into laughter, poking Matt. “See! I told ya! Now pay up!” He slapped his palm, waiting for the money.

Troy chuckled.

“Not yet.” Matt lifted up his hands and walked away from their group towards the thirteen-year-old.

The newcomer himself had been watching them, waiting for them. He stiffened the moment he saw Matt head towards him in the hall, bracing almost as though he had expected an attack. Holding up his head, he squared his shoulders. Matt smirked at the thirteen-year-old’s posture, having seen many like it before.

“Hi, I’m Matt. Matt Calamori. You’re new to this school, right?” Matt smiled genially, attempting to be anything but intimidating to the boy who stood about a foot shorter than him, meeting this boy’s peculiar gray eyes. “What’s your name?”

Blinking at Matt, the new boy hesitated before speaking then cocked his head to the side. “Rick. Rick Deacon.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Matt took a step back from the boy. He shook his head, his eyes opened wide in a stare. “No, you’re not. You’re Howard Richard Deacon the third. Your old man…he—”

“I know,” the new boy replied sourly, his sullen expression deepening. “He practically owns the school. My grandpa was one of the founders. But why’d you ask my name if you already knew it?”

Giving the thirteen-year-old boy a once over, Matt murmured, “I didn’t know. Not until you spoke. I can tell when people lie.”

“I wasn’t lying.” The new boy’s eyes narrowed at Matt. His voice bordered on an impolite growl. “I’m going by my middle name now, Richard. But call me Rick.”

“So what are you here for?” Randon asked, sticking his head in between them to peer at Rick also. The others had followed him, gathering around them.

Rick grimaced at him then turned away towards the wall. “None of your business.”

The four boys pulled back together, sharing looks.

“Well that’s not very nice,” Tom said. He took off his glasses again, stepping closer to Rick. “He was only asking you a question?”

The boy’s gray eyes quickly fixed on Tom’s orange and almost immediately Rick hopped a foot away. “What are you? Get away from me!”

“And that’s not very nice either,” Tom said, putting his glasses on again. He squared his shoulders. “You should be asking ‘Who are you?’ at least.”

“Fine!” Rick straightened up, staring the tall blonde in the face with bold defiance. “Who are you?”

Smirking, Tom glanced to his friend Matt, ignoring Rick. “I think we ought to teach this pipsqueak a lesson. What do you suggest?”

But Matt still watched Rick carefully, entirely puzzled. He folded his arms slowly across his chest while shaking his head even slower. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to mess with Mr. Deacon’s son. Obviously I was right. He’s a mafi in hiding. I win the bet.”

“Bet?” Rick looked from Matt to the others, now ostensibly offended. He threw his head and chest back, blustered while his face turned red with the clear desire to kick them all in the shins. “What? You took a bet on me?”

“We take bets on every new kid that comes to our school,” Randon replied with a mildly amused shrug towards what he thought was a snotty little kid. “Only two kinds of kids come to Gulinger High, as we like to call it, and both are here for protection from the outside world. The ghoulies and the mafis.”

Rick blinked with a squirm, his bluster all gone. “The what and the what?”

“Ghoulies and mafis,” Tom said, grinning at him as he lowered his sunglasses a millimeter to show his orange eyes once more. “I’m a ghoulie.”

“All four of us are ghoulies.” Matt shoved between them so Rick would not be so intimidated by his blond friend’s freaky eyes. “People with unique problems having to do with the supernatural world.”

“All of you…are like that?” Rick gestured to Tom with his thumb, having made plenty of distance between them. But the way he peered at the boys in the hall was more like he wanted to see them clearer rather than he was intimidated by them.

Randon answered, pointing each of them out. “We aren’t all like Tom. Only Tom and Matt are born weird. Troy and I are cursed weird.”

“Cursed weird?” Rick peered at Randon, taking in first his dark hair and eyes with a peek to Troy. “How?”

Randon shrugged, glancing to his other friends. “I don’t know if

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.09.2014
ISBN: 978-3-7368-4015-7

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Widmung:
For those who don't know the meaning of 'normal'.