Sophomore Freak (Reject High: A Young Adult Science Fiction Series Book 2) by Brian Thompson Page B

over her glasses. She, too, was dressed the same way Courtney and Hughes were. “Camuto is not joking.”
    Three months ago he’d shot at us, nearly hit me with a car, and tried to choke me to death. I believed her.
    Sasha scooted to the end of the table. I tried to help her down. “I got it,” she said, shooing me with her hands. “It’s two feet to the floor. I’ll be fine.”
    I snapped. “What’s your problem? You told me to leave and I left.”
    “I didn’t know where you were going or with whom!” she shrieked. “Seriously, her over me?”
    Sasha obviously meant with Rhapsody. “You should shut up. Now,” I told her.
    She slapped me across the cheek too quickly for me to drop my powers. Sasha cursed and shook her hand in pain.
    “I helped Rhapsody say goodbye to George,” I said over her grumbling.
    Still massaging her right hand, Sasha gazed over at Rhapsody. She must have finally noticed the pain in Rhapsody’s eyes that had been there for the past hour.
    “Alright,” she said, still wincing. “I’ll shut up now.”
    The awkward silence among the three of us stretched on for hours. Okay, it might have actually been a minute or less, but no one said a word, not even our hosts. Hughes monkeyed around with a piece of equipment. Camuto disappeared behind the curtain. From her demeanor, I could tell why Rhapsody started calling Camuto “Sour Lemon Face” behind her back. The woman couldn’t smile. And Courtney, for some odd reason, watched us interact like we were experiments in a Petri dish. Hadn’t she seen teenagers before?
     
     

 
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    pink is the color of danger
     
    Still silent, Hughes left us alone with Courtney in the giant circular room. She flashed us a weird, toothy grin. Were we a joke to her?
    “Hungry?” she asked.
    The aroma of the apple pie and cinnamon flashed in my memory, making my stomach clench in anticipation.
    Rhapsody’s must have, too. She licked her lips. “Totally,” she said.
    “I could eat,” Sasha chimed in.
    “Hughes likes to cook more than the rest of us do. He’s very thorough, though, so it’ll be a while before we actually sit down and get a chance to talk. You can hang out here.”
    She disappeared behind the beds, wires, and medical equipment. I spotted a double-sided, ten-foot-high cabinet back there that I hadn’t noticed before. “Incoming!” she yelled.
    Courtney tossed food to us – bags of chips and cheese crackers, toaster pastries, breakfast bars, trail mix, and gummy fruit snacks.
    “How did you know?” I asked her, sounding dramatic on purpose.
    “Eat up,” she said. “Don’t be shy.”
    Rhapsody barely hesitated before opening the bags in her hands. Neither did I. Even after using her powers Sasha picked at her food in a steady, nonstop stream instead of gobbling it down, like we did.
    “Give me that.” Rhapsody snatched a bag of fried onions from my arms. She replaced it with honey roasted pretzels.
    “Hey, Rhapsody, I’m sorry,” Sasha said. Her apology sounded sincere. “If there’s anything I can do, just. . .”
    “I’m good, Sasha.”
    Did she just call Sasha by her name and not some sarcastic nickname? I don’t think Rhapsody was blowing her off, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it.
    Sasha scrunched her brow and pointed to the two of us. “What was that, Goth Girl? Why did you just take those onion things from him?”
    “Mmm,” Rhapsody mumbled while chewing a candy bar. “He hates them. I thought it was a breath thing, but you’d know about his dragon mouth better than anyone else would.”
    I think I should have been offended, but Rhapsody’s joke was a sign she was feeling better. “And don’t call me Goth Girl,” she added. “Lamey Lame here can’t come up with something better to call me.”
    “Lamey Lame?” I opened my mouth and breathed in Rhapsody’s face. “Rawr!”
    She giggled and held her nose. “Your breath smells like rotten meatloaf!”
    I laughed.