Good Nerd Hunting (Nerds, Inc. Book 1) Read online

  “How long does it have to be?”

  “A thousand words.”

  “That’s cute. I have to write a two-thousand-word essay on what I did over the summer. In Spanish. And I have to read it to the whole class on the first day of school to get a passing grade.”

  Blake looked up from his paper. “What do you think Seven Hills will be like?”

  “Judging from the summer homework? Difficult as fuck. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. I mean, kids do enroll in this school instead of skipping a grade. They’re even letting me take four AP classes…”

  “No,” Blake interrupted, “I mean the people. What do you think they’ll be like?”

  “Who knows? Only one way to find out.”

  Blake looked out of his window. They were tailing the moving vans and their parents down a busy highway. Rascal had his head out of the opposite window. Phoenix, his phone hooked up to the car stereo with an aux cable, flipped through his playlist until he settled on a rock song that Blake recognized was by Bloc Party, Phoenix’s favorite indie band.

  A heart of stone, a smoking gun

  I can give you life, I can take it away…

  Phoenix bobbed his head and tapped the steering wheel to the lively beat. They looked so peaceful, content. Maybe this mood would follow them to Mirallegra. Maybe the usual warmth would return to their new home.

  I wanted to bite, not destroy

  To feel her underneath…

  Blake clutched his textbook to his stomach, calming his anxiety. He could start fresh in this new city. He wouldn’t be hated or hunted in a place where no one knew his name. He could keep to himself and live a peaceful life. He’d never have to use his slingshot again. Mirallegra was the city of miracles, after all.

  ‘Cause I’m on fire

  ‘Cause you know I’m on fire when you come

  ‘Cause you know I’m on fire

  ‘Cause you know I’m on fire, so stub me out…

  7

  It's a Trap!

  Blake stirred. He tried to open his eyes, but the sunlight blinded him, forcing him to shield them with his hand.

  “Wake up,” said Phoenix. “We’re here.”

  Blake sat up, knocking his notebook to the floor. He saw that he’d gotten halfway through his chapter three outline when he picked it up. Phoenix got out of the car to join their parents and the movers. After he’d stretched and yawned, Blake gathered up his papers and returned them to his bag before he and Rascal followed.

  They stood on a street lined with houses sporting manicured lawns. Cars came and went. Blake grinned at the sight of his new home. It was as big and handsome as the others, with a walkway paved with flagstone and a driveway leading to a garage made for two. He’d seen the house once before in the pictures that his parents had taken when they’d gone to see it in person earlier that year. It’d looked amazing then, but it didn’t compare to seeing it in person.

  He followed his family up the porch steps and into the house, Rascal trailing behind him. In the foyer, an elegant crystal chandelier dangled overhead. Phoenix appeared next to him.

  “You know the floor plan by heart, right? Lead us to our rooms.”

  “This way,” said Blake, pointing to the stairs.

  They climbed the polished wooden staircase to the second floor. Blake looked over the railing to see the foyer below, the movers carrying boxes, his parents instructing them on where to put them. He entered the first room on the landing, a large bedroom. “I want this one,” he said. He walked across the carpet and opened the window. “I think it has a better view of the city.”

  “And a walk-in closet,” Phoenix added as he opened a second door. “Mine has one, too, right?”

  Blake nodded. “And we can sit on the roof from our windows if we want. We have to share a bathroom, though. It’s right in the middle of our rooms.”

  Phoenix rolled his eyes. “There’s always a catch.”

  After all the furniture and boxes were placed in their respective rooms and all the essentials were unpacked, the family called it a night. Rascal followed Blake upstairs to his room, where he fell on his bed, exhausted. Blake’s outstretched arms throbbed; they weren’t made for strenuous exercise, only launching marbles. He closed his eyes. He needed to rest them, just for a moment…

  * * *

  Knock, knock, knock!

  Blake woke with a start. Sunlight crept through the curtains of his window beside him.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  Blake shook off the grog that threatened to keep him in bed and answered his door. There stood his brother, fully clothed.

  “Mom’s making pancakes. You better hurry and tell her what you want in them or she’ll cook yours plain.”

  “Could you tell her I want strawberries and chocolate chips? I’m not ready yet.” He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. He’d be lucky if he got any pancakes at all if his mother found out that he’d slept in them.

  “Sure.” Phoenix left.

  Blake took a quick shower, changed into a clean shirt and shorts, and hurried downstairs with Rascal. The smell of his mother’s cooking hit his nose before he’d reached the kitchen. He found his brother and father at the breakfast nook. His mother stood over the stove surrounded by fumes. He grabbed a clean plate from the island and piled it with food. “’Morning,” he said as he took his place next to his brother at the breakfast nook.

  “Good morning, son,” his father said, smiling through his short black beard.

  Blake looked up at the sound of his mother’s heels clicking against the linoleum floor. At the sight of the steaming plates of pancakes she held in either hand, his stomach rumbled.

  “Chocolate strawberry, right?” she said, setting a plate down in front of him.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  The family ate without a word. Blake would’ve found it easier to enjoy his breakfast if it weren’t for the excruciating silence. So, he decided to break it before it broke him. “When do you start your new job, Dad?”

  “In a few weeks,” he answered.

  “I guess you’ll be packing with us until then, huh?”

  “That’s right,” he agreed.

  “We’ll be done in another week, though,” Phoenix interjected. “What’re you gonna do when all the packing’s done?”

  Their father shrugged. “Read, I guess.”

  “You could always get to know Cleo,” Blake offered. “She’s sweet once you get past all the crying.” He let out a soft laugh that screeched to an awkward halt when he realized that no one was laughing with him.

  Everyone stopped chewing for a moment before resuming. His mother caught his father’s eye for just a second before he broke the connection and stared down at his eggs. A certain palpable awkwardness hung in the air, and Blake felt a heavy rock of guilt settle at the bottom of his stomach.

  Why’d you mention the baby, dumbass?! his Inner Critic demanded.

  I don’t know, Blake thought. It just came out.

  You know it’s a touchy subject, so why would you bring it up?

  I… I just—

  I’ll tell you why! ‘Cause you’re an idiot, the biggest one in this whole damn city!

  Am… am I the only one who even likes Cleo?

  What do you think, Brainiac?

  A heavy sadness flew in and settled itself on his shoulder, causing him to slump over his plate. Once breakfast was devoured, they gathered their plates into small piles.

  “Who wants to do the dishes?” his mother asked.

  “I will!” Blake answered.

  His parents and brother left the kitchen while he stayed behind and carried the plates to the sink. He ensured that they were as bright and clean as the day they were bought. He put away the jars of jam and butter, along with the jugs of juice, and wiped down the counters and breakfast nook. When he was done, the kitchen was clean and orderly.

  You saved your family this time, his Inner Critic said, but make it a habit and your family will fall ap
art.

  The heavy sadness occupying Blake’s shoulder shifted its weight.

  After Blake emptied all the boxes in his room, he announced that he wanted to explore their new neighborhood.

  “If you’re taking your bike, wear a helmet,” his mother instructed.

  “I will.”

  “And make sure your phone is fully charged.”

  “It is.”

  “You know the address in case you get lost, right?”

  “Yes, but I never get lost anyway.”

  “Julia,” his father scolded, “Blake can take care of himself.”

  “Can I go now?”

  “Of course.” His mother bent down and kissed his forehead. “Stay safe.” She left the dining room.

  “Have fun, son.” His father ruffled his hair as he passed and followed his mother.

  “Keep Rascal from burning down the neighborhood, would ya?” Phoenix said, tailing their parents.

  Minutes later, Blake mounted his bike outside, Rascal sitting in the basket.

  “Ready?”

  Rascal barked his response. Blake started down the street and rounded the corner to find more houses lining the road. He made his way to a busy street. He crossed and peddled into the bike lane.

  Wow, never seen one of these before, he thought.

  All around, he saw strangers entering and exiting restaurants, coffee shops, and stores, purses slung over their shoulders and pastries in hand. At the sight of a smoothie shop—They have those?! he thought—he hopped on the sidewalk and stopped in front of the outside seating. He dismounted, and Rascal jumped from the basket. Blake reached into his bag and pulled out a leash. “You’d better put this on.”

  Rascal growled.

  “Come on, we’ll get in trouble. I’ll buy you a smoothie,” he added when Rascal appeared unconcerned.

  Rascal tilted his head to one side and wagged his tail.

  “Yes, really. Well, come on.”

  Rascal walked forward and sat at Blake’s feet. Blake fastened the leash to the dog’s collar. He held up the piece with Rascal’s name. “We’ll have to change the address, too.”

  Rascal cocked his head again.

  “I know you can find your own way home, but you know how Mom is.”

  He tied the leash to one of the tables. Rascal growled in protest. “I know, but you’re not allowed inside. You know that.”

  Rascal whined.

  “I’ll be back in just a sec,” Blake said, unfastening his helmet and throwing it into the basket. He walked into the shop and was greeted by a cold breeze. Soft pop music played overhead. Apart from the teenage girl behind the counter, there was only one other person there: a boy who looked to be about Blake’s age.

  “Mixed berry, please. And could you add extra strawberries?” the boy asked the cashier.

  “Sure thing,” the girl replied. “I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.” She walked from the counter and began gathering ingredients.

  “Hi,” the boy greeted as Blake approached the counter. He had neatly cut hair and a friendly face.

  “Uh, hi,” Blake answered.

  It’s a trap! his Inner Critic informed. It’s a goddamn trap!

  You sure? Blake thought, eyeing the golden cross that dangled from the boy’s neck.

  No, I just bother you for shits and giggles. Of course, I’m sure!

  Blake reached for the slingshot in his back pocket, concealed by the tail of his shirt, but did not draw it.

  The boy stared. “Hey, you look familiar.”

  Blake froze.

  What? he thought. There’s no way. Rosewood’s two hours away…

  Code Red! his Inner Critic screamed. Fucking Code Red!

  Blake gripped the handle of his slingshot and grabbed a marble from his other pocket.

  “Do you know anyone named Finn McCracken?” the boy asked.

  Whatever you do, said his Inner Critic, do not tell the truth.

  I don’t know, Blake thought, loosening his grip on his weapon. He doesn’t look untrustworthy. Plus, he’s wearing a cross.

  Father Demonic wore a cross, too!

  “Yeah, that’s my cousin,” Blake answered. “Why?”

  What part of ‘Fucking Code Red’ do you not understand? his Inner Critic countered.

  The boy grinned. “You’re Blake, right? I’m a friend of Finn’s. He said you were moving here this summer. Wow, your family genes are really strong. You and Finn could be brothers!”

  So much for going somewhere where no one knows my name, Blake thought.

  “Yeah,” he said, “we just moved in yesterday.”

  “Cool. Must’ve been a long trip, huh?”

  Blake nodded. “My hometown is two hours away.”

  “Are you homesick?”

  Blake shook his head. “No way.”

  The cashier returned with a chilled foam cup in hand. Blake couldn’t believe he’d actually had a normal conversation with someone his own age. But his heart sank at the realization that their meeting was over, now that this kid had received his smoothie. To his surprise, however, the boy stayed rooted to the spot.

  “You gonna order?” he asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Can I have strawberry kiwi?” he told the cashier.

  “Sure, be back in a sec.” The cashier left.

  “I’m Quentin Hale, by the way, but you can call me Quen.” Quen took a long sip from his cup, during which time Blake let go of his slingshot and let his hand fall to his side. “Where do you live?”

  “The corner of Appleby and Foster,” Blake answered.

  What the hell are you doing?! his Inner Critic protested. Don’t tell him where you live!

  Shut up! Blake retorted. I can take care of myself.

  “Hey, you’re right down the street from me,” said Quen with a smile. “I’m on Appleby at Perry. That was your moving truck yesterday, right?”

  Blake nodded, returning the smile.

  “Cool, we should hang out sometime.”

  Okay, this has gone far enough, his Inner Critic declared. Walk away while you still have the chance.

  Why? He seems sincere to me. Plus, he knows Finn. This can’t be a trap.

  But—

  Shut up, already! I may never have this opportunity again, and I won’t have you fuck it up for me! Now go crawl back under your rock and leave me alone!

  “Blake?” said Quen, bringing him back to the smoothie shop.

  He blinked. “Yeah?”

  “Your smoothie.” He pointed to the cashier, who was holding a large Styrofoam cup in her hand. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He paid for his drink. “Wanna sit outside? My dog is waiting for me.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They walked out into the heat and sat at the table to which Rascal was tied. Quen reached down so that the beagle could sniff his hand.

  “His name’s Rascal, huh?” Quen said, reading his collar. “Does he cause a lot of trouble?”

  “More than you know,” Blake replied, looking down at his healed forearm. He took off the lid of the Styrofoam cup and poured much of its contents into it. Then, he set it down at his feet. Rascal attacked it without hesitation.

  “He really likes smoothies,” Quen commented.

  “Yeah, he’ll eat just about anything. I just give him what he wants. Otherwise, he’ll figure out a way to get it himself.”

  “By the way, Finn told me you got into Seven Hills. Congrats!”

  “Thanks.”

  “I go there, too. Eighth grade, same as you, right?” Blake nodded. “My elective is Business. What’s yours?”

  “Acting.”

  “That’s cool. You wanna be an actor?”

  Blake shrugged. “I just chose it ‘cause I’m good at remembering things, so memorizing a script shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Is it true you have photographic memory, like Finn?”

  “Yeah,” Blake answered, looking down at his half empty cup and fiddling with the straw. “To say it runs in the family is a s
tretch, though. Me and Finn are the only ones who have it.”

  “That’s so cool!” Quen enthused.

  Blake looked up from his cup in surprise. “Really? You think so?”

  “Why not? It must make school super easy, right?”

  Blake gave a small smile. “It helped me get a scholarship to Seven Hills, too. I can’t wait to go.”

  “We can’t wait to have you!”

  Blake beamed. His first day in a new city and he meets someone who doesn’t think he’s a freak for having perfect memory? Mirallegra really was the city of miracles!

  “Why don’t you come hang out with us tomorrow?” said Quen. “I think you’ll really like my friends. We all go to Seven Hills, like you and Finn. You can tell us all about your adventures in Rosewood.”

  Blake’s face fell. “Adventures?”

  “With your sling shot,” Quen clarified. Blake paled. “It’s Finn’s favorite subject. He’s always going on and on about how great your aim is. He really admires you.”

  Really, Finn? Blake thought. You told them about Nerd Hunting Season? They know about me putting out eyes and popping tires? What if they see me as a threat and wanna take me out before I can stir up trouble? Fucking Code Red! It’s a goddamn trap!

  “You ok?” Quen asked. “You look kinda sick.”

  “I should get going,” said Blake, standing. He reached down to untie Rascal’s leash. “My mom wants me home soon, so I can help unpack.”

  Quen stood up, too. “I’ll bike with you. It’s on the way, after all.”

  Blake nodded, unable to find an excuse to go alone. The boys strapped on their helmets and mounted their bikes, while Rascal reclaimed the basket.

  I told you so, his Inner Critic whispered as they pedaled down the street.

  They stopped at the corner of Appleby and Foster.

  “I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Quen said. “It’ll be so much fun.”

  “Actually, I don’t think I can hang out,” Blake answered as he dismounted and Rascal leapt from the basket. “I have a lot of work to do at home, so I don’t think I’ll have the time.”

  Quen’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he shrugged. “That’s ok, we’ll figure something out. And if you do find the time, I’m leaving at noon tomorrow to round everybody up.”