The Cost of Being Special (Survival of the Fittest Book 1) Read online

  She did her best to ignore him most days, leaving behind any prior connection they had. Being ‘known’ by him could be social death for her. But this time, she caught his eyes and flickered a smile his way.

  Well, that’s weird. But I’ll take it. He flashed his own smile back.

  To one side, a red-head named Laura who was always hanging around with Danielle nudged her. Not in a mean way. More like a reminder to be careful.

  It was too late. The acknowledged leader of their clique, a snarky blonde by the name of Chrissy, hissed under her breath, “What are you doing, Danni?”

  That set off a chorus of fierce whispers back and forth. Kyle didn’t linger to hear. Trouble in paradise? Must be because the term is ending. All of this is going to break apart unless they come back for another term. He wondered how many of them would trade another year of their life to come back here and keep this false-extension of their high school glory years going?

  Leaving Danielle behind with her so-called friends, he next came across ‘the studious’ group taking up the other side of the first rows. They shied away from him, as if touching his clothes could transmit the ‘lack of success’ disease he was carrying around. Despite their reluctance to make nice, Kyle could respect them. Half were immigrants to the country, and the other half had other sorts of early-life troubles they were trying to leave behind. They were here to learn. Every distraction was a threat to that. Kyle knew he wasn’t exactly a rocket aimed at the moon. Maybe they were better off treating him like the plague.

  He rolled his eyes at the next posse. Or better to call them groupies? Bottom feeders is more like it.

  They were ruled by their alpha male, the captain of the hockey team. Wasn’t he also the key receiver on the football team? And… some other sport. Didn’t matter. Kyle appreciated sports. Hell, his step-father was about the most die-hard Portland Orca fan there was since the expansion team had broken onto the scene of professional football. It had been a great way to find common ground with the man.

  But there was a big difference between high-quality athletes kicking ass on the professional gridiron and these idiots in his classroom. He had been a victim of similar cliques that formed around school superstars all through his life. Not physically; no-one knew he could fight, but bullies could sense when a target wasn’t as weak as he might look on the surface. He had been left alone for the most part. Nah, instead they just shunned me. So much better!

  Maybe a real university would be better. He had no idea. But this community college was a free ticket for guys like this to extend their teenage hero years for a while. The GED program had so many of the same faces. This particular alpha male was named Trevor Winestead. He had a group of four lackeys hanging on his every word relating a story from their last game. Trevor had been from a rival school growing up. He was always pushing a little harder than the others, as if to make up for lost time. He fed Kyle a sneer, then ignored him.

  Yup, same bullshit. Different pile.

  Insults died in his throat. He wanted to call them losers going nowhere. But then again, neither was he. The real world was about to smash these idiots in the face unless they scrambled above the minimum grades they needed to get sport scholarships. But that same freight train was blaring its horn and heading right at Kyle. He didn’t even have the fragile hope of being saved by his football throwing arm or hockey hand-eye coordination. How much was being an outcast paying off for him? Not much.

  At least I have the moral high-ground, right? Right? Sigh. Probably not even that.

  He shook off the dark thoughts.

  Focus on the good.

  Like his friends.

  Even outcasts like him had their own little ring of protection. The back of the class was his. His ring was exactly three people strong (other than him), so they were more of a square. But he had failed advanced geometry, so who cared?

  Nathan Erling had been hanging around him since they were kids. They had shared the same neighborhood, went to all the same schools, and flunked all the same classes. The last was probably partly due to their friendship. Pulling pranks together and gloating over the acquisition of the latest RPG book had often been more important than schoolwork. Nathan had saved up for their Europe trip right alongside Kyle, and the two of them had had a blast tromping across ten different countries, checking out the sights and staying mostly clear of trouble. They never seemed to argue, which made the whole friendship effortless.

  Nathan was also an uncompromising, totally unapologetic geek. Sporting a “Radar Man” superhero t-shirt over comfortable black jogging pants, he looked like he was daring a bully to pick on him. He’d had a rough childhood, often sneaking into Kyle’s house to escape his drunk father and abusive brothers. Nathan had emerged from all that with a good heart while being tough as nails underneath. Kyle was pretty sure he could beat his friend in a fair fight, but it would be closer than he liked to admit, even after all his training. Nathan was a gutter fighter; his family had taught him to be.

  Then there was Riley Marks, who couldn’t be more opposite. They had only known him since the start of college. He’d transferred over from Lionsgate Tech, deciding for whatever reason that he needed a change of scene. Fashion smart, clean, and far too obsessed with his looks to get good grades. He was the male equivalent of a bimbo, and was perfectly happy with his lot in life. He was hooked up with an inheritance, and was paying his penance: he had to go to college for as long as required to get access to his trust fund. He had told the group that the requirement was to go to college, not succeed at it. All he needed was passing grades and he was set for life after one more year.

  That worked out well for Nathan. He had visions of becoming a video game designer. He didn’t have the money to get into a school that taught that sort of thing. So, he was trying to succeed freelance-style. That didn’t pay well. But the two of them had fallen madly in love, and now Nathan was set for life as long as his boyfriend kept his grades above a certain line. Riley would pay Nathan’s way through whatever school he wanted, after which Nathan (hopefully as a famous game designer for one of the biggest game labels) could support them both if Riley’s money ran out. Nathan bugged Riley just enough to keep him passing. Riley dragged Nathan away from playing video games to get better at coding his own. Then, they spent the rest of the time knocking boots with each other.

  Last in the group was Debra Simmons, though she insisted on being called ‘Dazz’. She’d floated into their orbit in middle school. It was difficult to get close to her. Porcupines would envy her spikes. It was like she’d been told about teenage rebellion, and she’d instantly realized what her true calling was. Her hair was punk-cut, pixie shaped and mixed between swoops and spikes. It was purple where it wasn’t flashy pink, forming color patterns that were actually quite beautiful in Kyle’s humble opinion. She wore a black leather collar with glaring silver letters that read ‘I’m my own bitch’, with a looping chain that led right back to the collar without a handle on the ‘leash’ for anyone to grab onto. Her tank-top (a style she wore even in deep winter) displayed the logo for the glam-rock band Nailed to the Wall. Black cut-off jean shorts, bare legs and gladiator sandals completed her look. Most wondered why she didn’t wear boots that were the trademark of many punk girls. She flashed scathing looks at such people and told them, “I don’t like boots. Fuck off.”

  Peeking out from around her meagre amounts of clothing, Kyle could see a few dozen tattoos scattered across her back, neck, shoulders, arms and legs. Most of them were hidden, but the ones on her arms and legs showed an eclectic mix: spiraling flower patterns, Asian-style characters, a verse from an ancient Celtic poem, and even a ferocious pair of tigers grappling with each other. She had added more each year they had known each other. For some reason, Kyle had never felt comfortable asking about her choices. Maybe because she has smacked the last guy to ask. Then again, that guy has asked to see the ones under her clothes, wondering how far they went. I’d nearly decked him on her behalf.<
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  But she didn’t need protecting. She had kicked him hard in the balls and then again on the ground. The guy had taken it badly. He’d ended up in the hospital drinking through a tube for a while. Jaw wired shut. Beautiful. Dazz had done two years in juvvie for assault. Now, she was locked up in the college trying to close out the school she’d never finished while inside.

  They were Kyle’s people, for better or worse. None of them fully understood each other or agreed with each other’s choices, but that never seemed to matter. ‘No judgement’ seemed to be their rallying cry, and it worked for them.

  His friends were chatting quietly in the back of the class, and each gave him their own version of enthusiastic greetings as he came closer. He missed them. Most days, he shared a couple classes with at least one of them. Mondays were a long, dry, boring day without any of their company until the very end.

  He slid into his seat. He bumped fists with Nathan, settling back into their normal routine instantly. He flipped a wave over to Riley, who wasn’t a fan of being touched by anyone except Nathan. Riley wiggled his fingers in a small greeting, then was back on his phone set on mirror mode, adjusting some small bit of his hair that was apparently out of perfect alignment. Lastly, Kyle gave a soft kick to the back of Dazz’s chair, one of the few acceptable greetings she allowed. Being nice to her tended to piss her off; she thought it meant you were being fake. “You would not believe the day I’m having.”

  Nathan smirked. “Yeah, you drifted in here like you sucked down a few helium balloons. You still haven’t touched the ground. Feeling alright?”

  “Not sure. Reality was on pause for a while this morning. Still not sure I’m back.”

  Dazz snorted, waving at the classroom around them. “I think this dull box we’re trapped in is a good clue, don’t you?”

  Riley let out a theatrical sigh. “We should lash him to his chair before class starts.”

  Nathan played into the obvious joke being set-up, “Why’s that?”

  “Because if he’s floating already, what’s he going to do when she shows up? Ahh, here she is now…”

  Kyle tried not to look. He knew they were goading him. Friendly teasing was one of their favorite hobbies. He was opening himself up badly if he turned around.

  The door clicked open, and a brisk yet velvety voice greeted the room, “Hello, everyone. Welcome to your last week of classes.”

  As sure as gravity, Kyle turned and looked.

  Ms. Megan Clarke entered the room with measured, confident steps. Her stylish heels click-snapped on the tile. As he so often did, that’s where Kyle started. From there, he swept up her shapely calves and strong thighs sheathed in dark silk stockings. He knew they ended in lace bands near the top of her thighs. She always wore them like that. On rare occasions, her short, business-style skirts rode high enough to give away that secret. Above her waist, she wore a trimly cut, white blouse with silver buttons opened at the collar. The shirt was half-covered by a suit jacket tailored to hug her statuesque figure. She was no wilting flower; indeed, she had a bold physique and voluptuous figure that reminded Kyle of amazons or female wrestlers. He figured her for being in her mid-thirties, but the touch of maturity only added to her allure. She was all woman.

  Kyle practically whimpered. A sexy brush with the college nurse wasn’t enough to wash away a year of mooning after this untouchable woman. “Not that obvious, am I?”

  Nathan whispered, “Oh no. You’re good.”

  Riley amended, “Except that you might as well be on your knees licking her legs.”

  Dazz snickered. Then, one of her eyebrows tugged upward. “Though to be fair, on the right day, I might join you. Damn, she’s looking good today.”

  Kyle had to agree. Their teacher’s dark hair was floating around her head in a jumble of wavy curls. She’d hit the precise right balance with her make-up; her lip gloss glowed under the lights while the tasteful yet bold black of her eyeliner added enough punch to her smoldering, dark eyes to floor him.

  Ms. Clarke was carrying the leather folder she always used when taking notes at meetings. She placed it on her desk, then paused to activate the SmartScreen on the forward wall. It flashed up with the graphic she intended to use for her lesson: at the moment, merely a typical two-dimensional representation of the world.

  She strolled around to the front of her desk, starting the discussion a little differently than normal, “Congratulations for making it this far. I’m pleased to say that all of you are within reach of a passing grade. I’ve submitted the last of your quizzes and project scores. They are banked and in the system. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the rest is out of my hands. As mentioned in your course syllabi, the state-administered exams next week are worth fifty percent of your final grade. They are scored by contractors and computers without any input by me. As such, for the rest of this week, I am here to get you ready. The gloves are off. We’re going to cover as much ground as possible, hit all the high notes and rehash the most important details. If you have an idea of what else I can do to prepare you, let me know.”

  Trevor held up his hand. “How about giving us the answers, Ma’am?”

  Handling his mockery in stride like the seasoned professional she was, Ms. Clarke quipped back, “Short of cheating, I guess I should add. Most of the class figured that out.”

  The reversal worked. The whole class laughed as she scored the point instead of Trevor.

  Rolling with the advantage, she asked them, “Honestly, I couldn’t give you the answers if I wanted to. They are developed and administered by the state. So, how about we get on with reviewing material that I know for sure will be on the exam.” She tapped her fingernails on the desk, then asked, “If I asked you what was the most important historical emergence in the last hundred years, what would it be?”

  “One of the wars?” guessed Thomas Kim, one of ‘the studious’; his family were fairly new arrivals to the country.

  “A little general, but a fine suggestion. Some might agree, even despite more recent events. We should never forget the impact war has had. Everything from the world wars to the recent trend toward localized conflicts. Anyone else?”

  “The rise of terrorism?” answered Chrissy. Normally ‘the elite’ clique only spoke up to score points with the teacher. Apparently, Chrissy wasn’t about to let that role die even though Ms. Clarke wasn’t in charge of their grades any more.

  Kyle rolled his eyes. Though I wouldn’t put it past her that she wasn’t even listening at the time. This is Chrissy we’re talking about here.

  Ignoring any effort to suck up, Ms. Clarke took her answer at face value. “Indeed, that caused extensive shifts in modern life. It changed air travel. International border crossings. Immigration laws. What else?” She was clearly fishing for an answer.

  Dazz raised a bored hand, deciding to cut off the game with the right answer. “You mean Persterim, don’t you, Ma’am?”

  “Indeed, I do. Both of the other answers might be correct. Arguments exist for both sides. But Persterim is the most recent and still has the potential to end our civilization.” She clicked a button on her remote. Bold text appeared at the top of the SmartScreen:

  Persistent Sterility in Men

  “Having appeared only ten years ago, the disease spread rapidly over the entire globe. Do you remember why that was possible?”

  Another of ‘the studious’, Rachel Warren was home-schooled by negligent parents and struggling to catch up now. She had been rejected by every college in the world and needed real grades to turn that around. “You said its infectious rate was high.”

  “Incredibly high. That, and it has no outward telltale. This is incredibly rare. Most diseases cause some additional negative symptoms. A rash. Hair loss. Bloodshot eyes. Anything at all so you can tell when a person is infected short of a lab test. Persterim doesn’t have any that we can tell. By the time the government noticed the birth-rate dropping, penetration of the population had reached effectively
100%. It was, for want of a better term, already too late.”

  Kyle fell into the trance of her teaching style. Oh, he was completely charmed by her body, but she had an easy-going manner as well. He often wondered if she dressed as she did knowing it would make her the center of attention. She had to know she was a living sex symbol to many of them. Perhaps she thrived on it. Kyle could imagine she enjoyed the power of being lusted after yet unattainable. His eyes devoured every inch of her curves, lingering on the flex and play of her legs as she strode back and forth in front of the –

  “Mr. Hutchings?”

  Oh, crap. She’d asked him something. What was it what was it what was it… think think think…

  Behind him, Nathan snickered under his breath. The teasing would continue later. For now, he left Kyle at the mercy of his own idiotic libido.

  Ms. Clarke took a step closer. The measured extension of her leg toward him didn’t help his concentration at all. “I asked if you remembered where the fertility rate among men leveled off?”

  Kyle grasped hold of the life-line. “Wasn’t it 0.5%, Ma’am?” Score one for the brain, coming to my rescue!

  Ms. Clarke carefully hid a smirk at his triumphant smile. “Glad to see something hung around long enough for the state exam.” She turned and marched back behind the desk and toward the SmartScreen.

  Kyle watched her go, her beautifully rounded ass bobbing inside the short, tight skirt –

  – he chopped off his own thoughts. Was he trying to flunk the class? Using all his willpower, he forced his eyes back up to her (damnit, her beautiful!) face and struggled to concentrate.

  Their teacher gestured at the depiction on the SmartScreen. It was now showing the contagion spreading as flares of bright dots around major cities. “At first, we cared about tracking the spread. When we realized it was too late, it became more about tracking those who weren’t affected. Mr. Hutchings was correct. There is an immunity rate of about half a percent. Scientists are still attempting to piece together the genetic profiles of those who are immune, which may lead to a cure. Progress has been frustratingly slow. As science tries to provide us with a permanent solution, the government has enacted some extraordinary measures to prevent our birth-rates from falling too rapidly.”