Kryptonite , livre ebook

Kryptonite
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Kryptonite
Lesley Choyce
Copyright © 2018 Lesley Choyce
All rights are reserved, including those for text and data mining, AI training and similar technologies. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Choyce, Lesley, 1951-, author Kryptonite / Lesley Choyce. Issued in print and electronic formats. isbn 978-1-4598-1656-5 (softcover).— isbn 978-1-4598-1657-2 (pdf) .— isbn 978-1-4598-1658-9 (epub) I. Title. Ii. Series: Orca soundings ps8555.h668k79 2018 jc813'.54 c2017-904489-3 c2017-904490-7
First published in the United States, 2018 Library of Congress Control Number: 2017949675
Summary: In this high-interest novel for teen readers, Jackson gets in over his head when he tries to save a girl from her drug-dealer boyfriend.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Tanya Trafford Cover image by iStock.com
Orca Book Publishers orcabook.com
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Chapter One
Mr. Carmichael, my high-school philosophy teacher, held my essay in his hands and just shook his head. “Jackson, I can’t believe you plagiarized an essay on plagiarism.”
“I think that’s an unfair accusation,” I snapped back.
We were sitting in the staff room, just the two of us. He glared at me for the third time since we had sat down. Then he slapped the essay down on the table and started typing away on the keys of the laptop in front of him. Without looking up at me, he continued, “I asked you to write this because you had plagiarized twice already. Your first essay, you simply printed off the Internet.”
“I regret that,” I said. “I really do.” What he said was true. I had been sloppy.
“The second essay, you paid one of your classmates to write for you.”
“I just asked Davis for some help on it.” Well, actually I had conned him into doing it for me. Davis was smart when it came to school stuff but stupid when it came to most everything else. I didn’t know how Carmichael had found out. Most teachers wouldn’t have bothered investigating.
“But this, Jackson, this was your masterpiece,” Carmichael said, turning the laptop screen toward me so I could see it.
I leaned forward and tried to focus on the screen.
“The highlighted parts are the ones you copied. Underneath each, you’ll see the sources I tracked down.”
Very little of the essay was not highlighted. And he had found every chunk I had cobbled together from various Internet sources. It must have taken him hours.
“I apologize. I guess I forgot to document those sources. I spent a lot of time doing research for this essay. I was trying to prove to you that I could be a good writer.”
“Bullshit,” he blurted out.
I kept my cool even though I could see Carmichael was losing his. I knew I was in a tough spot. But hey, it was only an essay. I tried to look hurt.
“Jackson, why didn’t you just write the damn essay yourself?”
I blinked and pretended to be confused. “I don’t know. I just thought…” I let my words trail off. The truth is, I’d thought I could outsmart this guy because he was just a high-school English and philosophy teacher. But he had nailed me good.
“There’s a word for you, mister.”
Carmichael closed the laptop and wrung his hands. I didn’t know why this plagiarism thing had pissed him off so much. I was thinking he might actually hit me. In fact, I was hoping he would. I could definitely work with that.
I looked him in the eye defiantly. “Go ahead and say it.”
He stared at me for a second and then ripped my paper into pieces and threw them in my face. Then he picked up the laptop and left, slamming the door behind him.
But he didn’t say it. He didn’t say the word. I was left wondering if he had really found out.
Chapter Two
Maybe he was going to call me a cheater. Maybe that was all there was to it. I didn’t think he was smart enough to really figure me out. All my life I had known I was different. But then I saw this documentary and started reading stuff on the Internet. And that’s how I learned there were plenty of others like me. And there were labels, but none of them fit quite right. Besides, I hate it when people label you.
I’m just different, okay? And I’ve known that since I was a kid. I am smart, and I do everything, everything , for a reason. I just don’t like following rules.
The first time I ever got in real trouble at school was over lunch money. Other kids had money to buy a cafeteria meal, and I only ever had a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich made for me by one of my father’s girlfriends. The sandwich was a real loser (and so was the girlfriend, but I forget her name now). So I would convince some kid with lunch money to buy it from me. This worked for a while, and when it stopped working, I found other ways of convincing kids to give me their parents’ money. I guess you could call it a hobby.
Eventually I got busted. But it didn’t seem fair to me that I didn’t have my own lunch money. So even after I was asked to stop, I found ways of getting some cash from other kids. It wasn’t that hard. I think it was because I was a good talker. And likable. Almost everyone liked me. Until they actually got to know me, of course.
So flash-forward to me at sixteen, walking out of the staff room after being harassed by Carmichael. I was a little pissed off. He just didn’t understand me or my situation.
I felt that I needed to do something to recover my self-esteem.
I decided to take the rest of the day off. I felt restless and annoyed and knew the only way to break that mood was to take action. As I walked out of the school, into the sunshine, I looked down at my feet. I took stock of my old running shoes. It had been a while since I had new ones. I saw what the other guys at school were wearing. And I was mad that I couldn’t afford what they had. My father had money. He was just too cheap to keep his son in the appropriate footwear of the day.
My father almost never gave me money to buy new stuff. I pretty much had to look out for myself. Fortunately for me, that usually wasn’t a problem. I had my ways. You see, one of the differences between me and most other guys my age is that they think about doing what they want to do but end up not doing it. I think about a thing I want to do and I do it.
Today was one of those days.
Striker’s Sports store had a good selection of the latest Nike Roshe running shoes. It was a pleasant twenty-minute walk to get there, and as I thought about those new shoes, I found myself smiling.
I expected the usual old dude at the store to be there when I walked in, but instead I saw some new faces. I’d stolen from here before, of course, but I’d never been caught, so I didn’t have any real worries.
I wandered around for a bit, checking out the hockey gear and the sports clothes, and then finally made my way to the shoe section. Right away I spied the Nikes I’d seen this kid Damon wearing. The price was over $200. No problem. I found a box with my size and sat down to try them on.
That’s when the girl came over. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Just wanted to check these out,” I said. As I said it, I couldn’t help but check her out as well. I’d never seen her before. I would have remembered. “You new here?”
“Just started last week. Things working out?” she asked.
I looked her straight in the eye and held the eye contact for quite a few seconds. I guess you could say I was flirting with her, something I was really good at. “So far, so good.”
She spotted an older couple looking at some snorkeling equipment. “I’ll be right back. Just yell if you need anything.”
As soon as she turned away, I slid both shoes on, not even bothering to lace them up. Kicking my old dirty sneakers under the chair I was sitting in, I casually got up and started walking toward the front door. The girl never turned to look my way, and there was no one at the cash register. This was almost too easy.
But as I walked out the front door, an alarm went off. I hadn’t taken the anti-theft device out of the shoes. No problem. I now had a most excellent pair of shoes for running, even if they weren’t properly laced.
And run I did. No looking back.
Chapter Three
It’s funny how a pair of shoes can set wheels in motion. Those stolen shoes proved to have a real impact on my life. Well, n