Relic by Steve Whibley Page B

“Oh, yeah?”
    â€œFor one,” he said, speaking just above a whisper, “Rylee’s mega hot, so you’d be the luckiest guy in ninth grade. And for two…him.” He nodded across the circle and I followed his gaze to Eric Feldman, the biggest jerk in our grade. Eric glared daggers at us from across the circle and Colin gave him a mocking little wave.
    â€œWhat does Eric have to do with it?” I asked.
    â€œAre you kidding?” Colin said. “He’s obsessed with her. I bet he has a giant I LOVE RYLEE tattoo on his back.” He smiled. “Making him jealous is icing on the cake.”
    I hated Eric, and making him mad would be excellent—Rodney Palmer, Eric’s best friend, on the other hand…I wasn’t interested in making that psychopath angry. I shook my head. If Rylee liked me, it was as a friend. Besides, it’s not like I could do the whole boyfriend thing and still manage to deal with my visions.
    It was fun to think about, though.
    I didn’t realize I was smiling until Lisa stepped past me and whispered, “You’re pathetic.” I dropped into the seat beside her and she added, “But I think she might like you too.”
    â€œYeah, right,” I said.
    â€œLet’s get started, shall we?” Dr. Mickelsen said. He had on a blue dress shirt and a tweed coat, which was odd since it was so hot and everyone else in the room was wearing shorts and t-shirts. He started the session the same way he always did: by going around the room asking everyone to share their feelings. You could say “pass” if you didn’t want to share, which was something Colin, Lisa and I used pretty much every session. But this time, when he got to me, and I said, “Pass,” he didn’t move on.
    â€œAre you sure?” he asked.
    I felt my eyebrows rise. “Um, yes. Very sure. Thank you.”
    â€œNothing you’re interested in talking about?”
    I took another look at the therapist and realized he had a newspaper under his clipboard. My face suddenly felt warm. I swallowed and repeated, “Pass, sir.”
    â€œFirst he kills an animal with a fork,” Eric said from across the circle, “and now he’s attacking peaceful monks at libraries.”
    â€œIt was at a museum, you dolt,” Colin said.
    â€œOh, well that makes it all better, then,” Eric added. He looked around the group and stopped when his gaze landed on Rylee. “It’s okay to beat up monks, just so long as it’s at museums.”
    The rest of the students in the group shifted in their seats in anticipation of what was to come. There was a tiny part of me that wanted to punch Eric. I’d done it before—right in the middle of group therapy too—and I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t felt awesome. But another, larger part of me didn’t care one bit what the little dweeb had to say. There was going to be a museum robbery and at least two people could die. I was pretty sure Archer would help us deal with it, but it put things in perspective a bit. I had way bigger issues than Eric Feldman and Rodney Palmer.
    Colin glanced at me, and gave me a look that asked, “Are you going to punch him again?” I shook my head and leaned back and then stared Dr. Mickelsen right in the face and said, for the third time, “Pass.”
    Eric snorted and shook his head at me. If he did like Rylee, and he thought she liked me, he might redouble his efforts to make my life miserable. I’d have to watch out for that.
    Dr. Mickelsen nodded and moved on to Colin, who said, “Pass,” as did pretty much everyone else. Then he launched into a discussion about the stages of grief, and then death in general. I actually thought it was a creepier discussion than the usual creepy discussion about our exploded teacher.
    â€œWhat about you, Dean?” Dr. Mickelsen asked.
    I blinked. I’d missed the question.