Jenny Pox (The Paranormals, Book 1) Read online

  “Oh, thank you!” Veronica threw her arms around Ashleigh’s waist. Ashleigh tried not to look grossed out when the girl buried her snotty, wet face in Ashleigh’s breasts. Ashleigh returned the hug, smiling to hide her revulsion. The girl’s nose was really dripping.

  “I love you, Ashleigh!” Veronica cried.

  “We all love you, too, Veronica,” Ashleigh said. “Right, everybody?”

  The rest of the girls applauded or shouted that they loved Veronica, too, and a few of them got up to hug Veronica. Ashleigh touched several of their bare arms or faces, spreading the energy around. She couldn’t help it. The energy gushed out of her whenever she touched another person. Sometimes, Ashleigh wished she could keep it inside.

  ***

  After her encounter with Seth, Jenny had trouble concentrating on anything. Her mind kept drifting to Seth, how kind he’d been to her, talking to her like she was a normal person. She thought back, and couldn’t remember having trouble with Seth until he started going with Ashleigh freshman year. Even when Ashleigh spread the rumor in tenth grade that Jenny’s doctor made her wear gloves because she was addicted to masturbation, Jenny didn’t remember Seth talking about that. And everyone had been talking about that for a couple of months. Maybe Seth wasn’t so bad, but had a bad influence on him from Ashleigh.

  For the first time, Jenny attended the school football games on Friday nights, dressed in long sleeves and a pair of tan-and-yellow Porcupines gloves from the school spirit catalog. She sat among parents instead of students, since there was a lot less jostling and touching, and a whole lot less interest in picking on Jenny Mittens.

  She liked watching Seth take the ball and crash his way down the field. It also thrilled her when the Porcupines switched to defense, because then Seth would go to the sidelines, take off his helmet and splash water on his head. She liked to watch that. She also liked watching him help his teammates, in a secret way only Jenny knew about.

  During the first game, Porcupine quarterback Tycus Williams had been sacked hard in the second quarter and twisted his ankle. He’d limped off the field leaning heavily on Coach Humbee, while the crowd applauded politely.

  On the bench, Seth slung an arm around Tycus and talked to him, gesturing toward the cheerleaders. Tycus laughed, and Seth touched the back of Ty’s head and whispered something in his ear. Tycus nodded and grinned. After halftime, the quarterback was in the game again, repaired and full of energy, and led the team to victory over the Barlowe Bears.

  Seth did the same for any injured player on his team—shaking their hands and gripping it while he spoke to them, or giving a playful noogie, or leaning his forehead against the injured boy’s under the pretense of giving him an up-close pep talk in the noisy stadium.

  Jenny liked the games because she could watch Seth for hours and get away with it. She couldn’t approach him at school, with Ashleigh and friends close by and always ready to tear Jenny apart. At the games, she could at least look all she wanted. The only sour notes came at halftime and the end of the game, when Ashleigh would push herself against Seth to kiss him, and his hand would slide down toward her khaki skirt. For all of Ashleigh’s religious posturing, when she’d become cheer captain, the cheerleaders’ skirt hems had risen by several inches, and their tops had shrunk to leave their stomachs bare.

  After the games, Jenny would go for a walk in the woods by her house. She would end up sitting on a certain large boulder in one of the little valleys that dimpled the hilly woods. Lying on the flat top of this boulder, her head against smooth stone, she would think about Seth.

  In her mind, she replayed the time he’d stopped to help Rocky, but she made things happen differently. Instead of driving away to meet Ashleigh, he took Jenny’s hand and led her into the woods. He pushed Jenny against a massive, gnarled old tree, and kissed her, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth. His lean, strong body pressed against the front of her, while her back rubbed against the rough bark. Then he would take the straps of the tank top she’d been wearing that day, and slide them down along her shoulders and arms, pulling her shirt down and turning it inside out at the same time. Then he laid his warm, healing hands on her bare chest.

  Usually, that was all Jenny could take. She would lie on her back on the big rock, breathing hard, feeling ashamed of herself. Then she might go again, making Seth do different things in her imagination.

  She’d heard the word “crush” before, but never realized it was something so powerful it filled your head and body, and made it hard to eat and sleep. She felt extra stupid because she was probably the hundredth or thousandth girl to crush on Seth Barrett. She could not have set her sights any higher. But she couldn’t help it.

  Jenny also harbored another, less physical fantasy about Seth. She imagined that after she discovered his healing power, Jenny had eagerly spilled to him about her own awful power, the Jenny pox. In her fantasy, Seth was totally understanding and happy to finally be with someone like him. He said he could love her even if he couldn’t touch her. That was the truly dangerous fantasy, Jenny knew, the one that could only cause profound grief and suffering—but again, she couldn’t help it.

  She started jogging through town late at night, when she wasn’t likely to encounter anyone as long as she stayed away from McCronkin’s Irish Pub. Fortunately, Rocky had lost all taste for paved roads and wouldn’t go near one, so she didn’t have to worry about him, but she did have to run alone. She never worried about getting attacked when alone at night. Nobody had ever tried anything like that, but if they did, she would just give them a quick and horrible death.

  Jenny lived south of town, and Seth lived on the east side. For a week, she jogged past Barrett House every night on reconnaissance. It loomed on top of a hill, surrounded by a tall, spiked wrought-iron fence that dated back to the Great Depression. White brick columns topped by stone lions flanked the front gate. Through the gate, you could see some of the three-story stone and brick house, which looked very old, much hidden behind huge ancient trees thick with Spanish moss and purple wisteria. The driveway was brick and ended at the house with one of those hey-I’m-rich turnarounds with a fountain and garden in the center island. Vines had overtaken the fountain and much of the garden. The more she jogged past Barrett House in the moonlight, the more it looked like the country retreat of a crumbling dynasty, from a kingdom gone to ruin.

  She never saw Seth outside and didn’t pick up any clues about how to talk to him without his friends around. She’d considered slipping a note in his locker or backpack, but with Jenny’s luck, Ashleigh would find it first. She’d considered calling him at home, but the number was unlisted. Anyway, that seemed awkward, since he hadn’t given Jenny his number, and Jenny didn’t have much practice talking on the phone, aside from bill collectors threatening to shut off the power. All her thoughts led to dead ends.

  Strangely, her inspiration eventually came from Ashleigh Goodling.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ashleigh sprang up on her long legs, high into the air, and swatted the ball as hard as she could over the net. On the other side of the court, the ball cracked into its intended target—the center of Jenny Mittens’ stupid, ratty face. Jenny cried out and fell to one knee. She covered her face with her batting-gloved hands. The ball skittered out of bounds, a point for Ashleigh’s team.

  “Oh, gosh!” Ashleigh said. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Did I hurt you, Jenny Mittens? Are you bleeding? Are you crying?”

  “Nice save, Jenny Mittens,” growled a girl on Jenny’s side.

  Coach Humbee sat on the indoor bleachers. He looked up from the sports section of the South Carolina newspaper The State. He glanced briefly at Jenny Mittens, then at Ashleigh Goodling, then went back to reading.

  A sophomore girl entered the gym and showed the coach a slip of paper. Humbee nodded and pointed to Ashleigh.

  The girl ran over, smiling at Ashleigh with all her teeth, and held out the note to her. Ashleigh did not move to accept it.r />
  “Yes?” Ashleigh said, raising one eyebrow.

  “Uh, hi, Ashleigh Goodling! Uh, Principal Harris wants to see you.”

  Ashleigh rolled her eyes. She knew what this was about. She took the note and glanced at it. The sophomore girl bobbed on the balls of her feet, awaiting instructions from Ashleigh.

  “Oh, great,” Ashleigh sighed. She waved to Coach Humbee, who waved and nodded back. Ashleigh headed for the gym door, the anxious sophomore in tow.

  “So what’s it like being the president?” the sophomore gushed. She was clearly awed at actually having a chance to talk to Ashleigh.

  “Fantastic.” Ashleigh crumpled the note and threw it in the wastebasket as they left the gym.

  The receptionist, Ms. Dottie Langford, who displayed plush and porcelain kittens on her desk, smiled when Ashleigh arrived. Ashleigh complimented her shirt, with its embroidered image of a basket of kittens. Mrs. Langford buzzed the principal, proudly announced Ashleigh’s arrival, and sent Ashleigh into the principal’s office.

  Principal Harris was a reedy man, with much bald on his head and a salty, peppery mustache. His glasses magnified his eyes so much that he looked like a cartoon character when he was wearing them. The effect was especially noticeable when he was trying to be serious. When Ashleigh entered, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Close the door and have a seat, Ashleigh,” he said.

  Ashleigh lowered herself into one of the chairs across from him.

  “Goodness, you look exhausted, Principal Harris,” Ashleigh said. “Are you ill?”

  “No more than usual.” He replaced his glasses, and his eyes doubled in diameter. “Ashleigh, we have a problem.”

  “You have a problem, sir?”

  “We do. You and I. And I’m sure you know why.”

  “I don’t know what it could be, Principal Harris.”

  “This abstinence program?”

  Ashleigh cocked her head and looked puzzled. “I don’t understand, sir. Christians Act! got written permission from you to promote abstinence at school. I thought everyone agreed it was a good idea.” Since there was a large membership overlap between Cool Crusaders at church and Christians Act! at school, Ashleigh had naturally used the flagpole prayer group to carry the campaign into school.

  “We did give you permission to put up some posters encouraging abstinence. We are not opposed to that.”

  “Then what could the problem possibly be?” Ashleigh asked.

  Principal Harris stared at her in disbelief for a minute. Then he said, “Let’s have a look. These are examples I personally removed this morning.” He placed a stack of four full-color, glossy posters on his desk. Neesha had done the photography, since she had the equipment and the talent.

  The top one depicted two students, a boy and a girl, in bathing suits by the pond behind Ashleigh’s house. The boy had his arms around the girl’s waist. Both of them were soaking wet. The caption read: ABSTINENCE IS POWER.

  “What is this about?” he asked.

  “Clearly, it’s about how couples must work together and agree on abstinence, even though they’re tempted,” Ashleigh said. “I mean, obviously.”

  “And what about this?” Principal Harris slid the top one aside, revealing a portrait of Neesha’s boyfriend Dedrick, shirtless to show off his muscles, his underwear slung very low, his pants even lower, his belt unbuckled. He made a ‘peace’ sign, his head slung back. Again, the caption: ABSTINENCE IS POWER.

  “Or this?” The next picture depicted senior Ronella Jones, topless, her back to the camera. She wore tight, low-slung jeans, and had Egyptian hieroglyphs tattooed on her lower back. The picture had the slogan ABSTINENCE IS POWER.

  The final picture showed Alison Newton, a senior cheerleader, with her jeans unzipped. She covered her panties with both hands, as if saying “No.” ABSTINENCE IS POWER.

  “Ashleigh,” the principal said, “What on you Earth made you think these would be acceptable?”

  “Principal Harris, I think I understand kids today better than you,” Ashleigh said. “They know sex is tempting. If we don’t admit that, then they won’t believe the rest of our message. You know?”

  Ashleigh considered reaching out to touch the principal’s hand, infect him with some of that special Ashleigh-energy, but she never used it on him. Principal Harris was too much fun to torture.

  “And how would I explain to parents why my hallway looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog?” Principal Harris asked. “Why we have pictures like this of their children?”

  “Just send them to me, and I’ll explain,” Ashleigh said.

  “I want them all taken down. Today.”

  “Principal Harris?” Ashleigh drew herself up to her full height in the chair. She gave him a sweet smile. “Do you want people thinking you’re opposed to teen abstinence?”

  “I am not opposed to—”

  “Do you want people in town asking why you’re so anti-abstinence? Do you want people at church wondering why you encourage premarital sex among your students?”

  “I certainly do not—”

  “Do you want this all over the media? I can go back on the True Word Radio Hour any time I want.”

  “Ashleigh, don’t be ridiculous—”

  “What about parents calling you at home all night? Death threats on your front door? I can make it all happen again, Principal Harris. You saw how wild they got over kids and witchcraft. Now imagine it’s kids and sex.”

  Principal Harris glared at her now, his jaw flexing as if chewing an extremely gristly piece of meat.

  “Okay, I get it,” he said. “You want me to oppose you. You want another media storm, with innocent little you as the victim again.”

  “Not at all, Principal Harris. That’s silly.”

  “Why do you do these things, Ashleigh?”

  “Because I care so much about the community, Principal Harris.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” he said.

  “Then think of it this way.” Ashleigh stood and stretched her hands high over her head, as if cramped from two minutes of sitting down. She tried to be a little seductive about it, letting her gym shirt crawl up her stomach, and Principal Harris averted his eyes and scowled at the floor. “I’m graduating this year. You decide if you want peace and quiet, or if you want to go to war with me. Personally, I like war.”

  He looked up at her again, undisguised hatred on his face.

  The bell rang. Ashleigh gathered the confiscated posters and rolled them together.

  “I have another class,” she said. “I’d better get out of these sweaty gym shorts, don’t you think, Principal Harris?”

  “Go.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

  She opened the door and stepped into the reception area, leaving it open behind her. Then she turned back and sang out, “Good-bye, Principal Harris! I’ll return these posters to the hall! Thank you!”

  The principal didn’t respond. Ashleigh winked at Mrs. Langford.

  “Oh, would you like a lollipop, dear?” Mrs. Langford said.

  “Oh, gosh, thank you, ma’am. Lime, please.”

  Mrs. Langford passed her one from a kitten-shaped glass bowl.

  “Have a nice day, dear!” Mrs. Langford said. As Ashleigh stepped into the main hall, she heard the receptionist mutter to herself, “Such a sweet young Christian lady.”

  In the hallway, Ashleigh saw two boys from Christians Act! and gave them the posters. She told them to hang them prominently in the main hall, right away.

  The rest of the abstinence posters stayed where they were, displayed up and down the main hall.

  ***

  In the locker room, Jenny splashed handfuls of cold water onto her face where Ashleigh had slammed the ball into it. She rinsed the blood from her nose, but it was still swollen and tender.

  When the bell rang, Jenny moved slowly, letting the rest of the class leave ahead of her. As she left the locker room, she looked o
ver at Coach Humbee on the bleachers. As far as she could tell, he remained absorbed in his newspaper.

  Jenny bent down, plucked the crumpled note from the trash can, then hurried out the gym door. She concealed the note in her fist as she jogged along the gravel path to the main school building.

  She was alone on the path when Ashleigh Goodling returned from the principal’s office. Ashleigh had a bright, triumphant gleam in her eye and walked with a little extra bounce, obviously fresh from some victory or other.

  Jenny kept her eyes on the ground and tried to avoid her, but Ashleigh, dozens of feet from any witnesses, couldn’t resist. She pulled the green lollipop from her mouth and sang a verse from an old song, one Cassie had invented when she was nine years old. There was a hand-clap game that went with it, which had been quite a hit in Jenny’s fourth-grade class.

  Jen-ny Mit-tens,

  Drownin’ kittens,

  She’s so stupid,

  So says Cupid…

  A deep, primitive anger rose in Jenny, and she fought to squelch it. She didn’t dare do or say anything, especially not with the filched note burning in her fingers like contraband. She kept her eyes down as Ashleigh passed by. Behind her, Ashleigh cackled as she opened the door to the gym.

  Inside the main building, Jenny ducked into a bathroom stall and locked the door. The girls in the next stall were sharing a cigarette, and she held in her urge to cough. She spread the note out between her fingers.

  It was 5” x 8” paper, torn from a pad. The Porcupines logo and the school’s address and phone number were printed in brown and yellow on the top. Mrs. Langford had written in all caps: ASHLEIGH GOODLING TO PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE ASAP.

  Jenny folded the note and zipped it into an interior pocket of her bookbag. It was just what she needed, the magic ticket that gave any student the power to pluck another out of class, since Mrs. Langford foisted the notes onto any kid who happened by in the main hall whenever she needed one delivered. Jenny began to sweat nervously as she made her plan.