The Secret of Zormna Clendar by Julie Steimle (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

shirt. Though Mark muttered to Jonathan it was a pity Jeff hadn’t just pulled it off for kicks. Brian punched him for saying that. And as the boys advanced to their next spot up the line, Alex looked back in wonder.

 

Chapter Sixteen: School Olympics

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Man is the only animal that blushes—or needs to.”—Mark Twain—

 

Just as Zormna had predicted, most of the homerooms prepared for the Olympics in advance. So it was fortuitous that they had scheduled practices themselves. Practices which Darren would watch from his house.

When the FBI had approached him after the whole Zormna-crashing-into-Jeff-Streigle (a.k.a. Jafarr) Darren knew his chances of getting anything out of Zormna were gone. The girl would be vigilant thereon. And he would never find out who the Streigle brothers really were.

Oh, he tried to fit them into the grand story Zormna’s late great aunt had told him about Martian society. But Jeff just didn’t fit the picture. Alex did. Oh yeah, Alex looked the part perfectly. Pale, blonde, yet quietly blending in like a normal Joe. No attention drawn to himself. Alex didn’t even bother joining in the teasing those jocks dealt out. But Jeff…he was something else.

To be honest, Darren had bought the whole abused-kid-from-Chicago shtick the moment he had set eyes on the dark-haired junior. The guy was freaky. Haunted. Tormented. And all those scars? He really looked like a guy running away from something awful.

Yet Zormna Clendar had known him right away. She knew his voice, even.

Which led to two conclusions. Either she really had stayed at an Irish military facility for a while and bumped into Jeff. Highly unlikely. Or Jeff was someone she had dealt with on a regular basis in her military patrols. The latter had to be true. Only…a black-haired Martian? Darren could have sworn her aunt said they were all fair-haired and fair-skinned, like from Norway or the British Isles, only not so tall.

Yet, Alex was pretty tall.

Darren frowned, looking out the window into the deceased lady’s yard. Zormna’s class was currently practicing some of the sillier games, like the egg-carrying races and the obstacle courses. Mrs. Ryant stood on the back porch, watching while giving commentary. A coffee mug was cradled in the teacher’s hands. Zormna went in and out among her classmates like a coach, giving incredibly useful pointers. And they were improving, and gaining confidence. Darren could also see from his vantage point the FBI agent inside the alleyway concealed by a tall hedge. Zormna would frequently shoot dirty looks that way. 

Then she shot him a sharp look.

Darren pulled back from his window.

Yep, she was vigilant. There would be no way to break past her barriers now.

*

Finally it was the school Olympics. Jennifer hopped out of bed with excitement. Homerooms versus home rooms. Students versus teachers. Freshman versus seniors. And lots of junk food, sun, and partying. And it was Friday, which meant a long happy weekend would come after it. So lifted in anticipation, Jennifer almost forgot about the whole freaky deal between their house-guest, Jeff Streigle, and the FBI.

Almost.

Jennifer went to check in on Zormna, tiptoeing to the girl’s room in pajamas. The small door was always unlocked when Zormna was not in, and it swung freely from the catch when Jennifer pulled on the little knob this time.

Empty. And Zormna’s room was sickening neat.

Sighing, Jennifer shook her head. Zormna was probably getting in more practice time at the school swimming pool.

Then again, Jennifer thought to herself as she walked to the bathroom to get ready for the day, Zormna was probably at the school early preparing for the day’s event. Jennifer had seen the blonde’s class practicing together at the crazy lady’s house. They had caught the same focused attitude Zormna had and were making what should be a day of fun into something way too major. People really needed to lighten up.

Todd had gone ahead with his pals when Jennifer was still having breakfast. Mark had called out loudly from Alex’s truck, “She’s already gone?”

“Of course she is,” Jeff had snapped back, both of them riding in the back, even though they weren’t supposed to.

And they zoomed off, with Alex driving.

Brian had also stopped by, peeking around for Zormna on his way from seminary. Joy waved timidly at Jennifer with a peek also.

Jennifer walked to school alone that morning.

Everyone met at their homerooms.

“Hi,” Jennifer rushed into Mrs. Guyver’s classroom up to their class president who was handing out their team shirts and their props. “Am I late?”

Ingrid Gillis shook her head, looking mildly peeved. “Not yet. But people are already claiming bleacher space so you’d better get dressed and get out there. Did you bring the drinks?”

Jennifer hefted up the cooler handle. Luckily the large thing had wheels and she was able to drag it to school. It was full of ginger ale, cola, root beer, and a few favorite sodas that the others requested. The ice had not quite started to melt yet.

“Good.” Ingrid handed Jennifer a parasol. “Don’t forget sunscreen.”

Another classmate ran up in her tennis skirt, reaching out for her pink shirt while dropping off bags of chips. The pink lace-trimmed shirt said Guyver’s Guys and Gals on the back. On the front was this drawing of a late 1800’s corseted top. The boys got blue shirts with bow ties and top hats.

“Did you see Ryant’s class?” The classmate leaned in to Ingrid conspiratorially.

Jennifer listened in.

Ingrid rolled her eyes petulantly. “I know. Totally in bad taste. I mean, with all the school shootings. It’s that stupid Zormna’s fault.”

“Why? What are they wearing?” Jennifer asked.

Ingrid looked surprised. “You don’t know? Doesn’t she live with your family?”

Jennifer shrugged. “Zormna never showed me any of it. And we’re still not quite talking.”

“Yeah…about that,” Ingrid looked at Jennifer sideways. “I heard a rumor that you saw something weird at the crazy woman’s house. Darren Asher’s been going on about you finding proof that she’s an alien.”

The derogatory tone in Ingrid’s voice made it easy for Jennifer to roll her eyes back and say, “Yeah, Darren is a weirdo. Don’t listen to him.”

“I wasn’t.” Ingrid snorted and went back to handing out fluffy pink and blue tee shirts. “But that girl isn’t normal. He said he saw Zormna knock you out and drag you back into the house.”

Jennifer blinked. Somehow that felt ages ago. She said, “He was mistaken. I tripped and fell. She helped me back to the house to treat my cuts.”

It was a lie. And Jennifer didn’t know why she did it.

Tommy Fuller strolled up, swinging his PVC pipe cane, grinning. “Are we ready to do this?”

Jennifer nodded back, glad for a change of topic. “Ready!”

The entire school gathered together in the football stadium where the opening ceremonies would take place. Jennifer wandered in with some of the kids from her class to the wooden steps, claiming their spot on the bleachers. They had their class banner up. Kenny Hilton braced the pole between the slats. Like most of the others in the school, her class had planned to make a grand entrance together, and that meant dressing up and practicing their cheers before going. But territory had to be claimed before it was entirely gone. Clearly Zormna’s class was doing the same, though Jennifer had to wonder what kind of entrance Mrs. Ryant’s self-paced English course would make since she could not figure out who was saving territory for them on the bleachers.

“Hey Guyver’s Goobers!” one other class cat-called to them.

Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“Ignore them,” Penny Louis whispered to Jennifer. There were only four of them in the stands, marking their territory. And they were one of the early ones. Zormna’s class was nowhere to be seen, Jennifer decided. Neither was Todd’s or Jeff’s. But Alex sat with those from Auto Shop. The Roadsters.

Jennifer’s mind still had questions about the Streigle brothers. But they had all congealed into the fact that Zormna hardly knew the brothers at all. Theirs had been a short European trip, and the only reason Jeff hated Zormna was because she had humiliated him, not once, but several times. That’s what Todd said when Jennifer bugged him about it. Jeff stories corroborated with Zormna’s almost exactly—minding P.O.V. of course.

Jennifer finally saw Jeff walking in with Mr. Keller’s AP Biology class. White tee shirts with red blood-splotches on them, the class carried aloft a gray and red spray-painted banner than said Keller’s Killers. Ugh. They also chose the combative theme. Jennifer wondered how they got away with it. Some of them carried rubber knives and neon squirt guns. Jeff carried a large green and orange one, marching next to Tim Hutchinson who was on the track team. Both were laughing as they chanted a theme song Jennifer thought she may have heard from a video game. He didn’t even notice her watching him.

 “Ryant’s Retards are planning something.” Jennifer’s classmate, Lucy Tobler walked up the steps. Her pink parasol was up to keep the sun off. She looked like a dainty Shirley Temple, except for her short white shorts. The morning sun streaked around her, rosy, as more people marched into the stadium. “I just saw them gathering on the redtop—looking all conspiratorial.”

Tommy shrugged, uninterested. “Who cares? They’re losers.”

“That Irish chick was leading them,” Lucy said.

Tommy’s head perked up. “Zormna’s in Mrs. Ryant’s class?”

Jennifer nodded.

Tommy stood immediately up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “I wonder what she’s wearing.”

Penny whopped him on the head with her parasol. “Don’t be a pervert!”

The fervor on the field steadily rose as more classes streamed into the stadium. Mitchell’s Marauders marched in wearing old 1940’s soldier-esque uniforms. That is, they had dog-tags and hats and wore military green and khaki cargo pants with their tee shirts. Then Brown’s Bomb Squad came. They wore helmets and pretended to be demolitions experts rather than people preventing bombs from going off. They carried water balloons in their coolers, and their flag had the old TNT box drawn on it. Milder groups like Miner’s Miners (with their trusty ‘pick-axes’) and Sylvania’s Superheroes (where every student was dressed in individual hero costumes) gave way to Vobula’s class William’s Werewolves and Zimmerman’s group which just called themselves The Undead. The zombie makeup was a bit much. Someone had fun with the gore.

Everyone came in a party mood. Lots of joking around with bags jammed full of chips, sodas, and snacks of all kinds—lots of kids were already high on sugar. Cheers on lips, laughs in throats, grins miles wide with suntan lotion smeared across cheeks and noses. The fervor revved Jennifer’s spirits into raging excitement. This day heralded the beginning of summer and marked the end of the year way better than Prom.

Then Zormna’s homeroom marched into the field to the home stands. And boy, did they get a reaction.

“Holy cow! Zormna is with the geek class!” from the junior section, Jeff’s voice cried out with mischievous delight.

The collection of intellectuals and out-of-place students marched over the track to the small gate that let them into the bleachers. All of them were dressed in khaki shorts with camouflage print tee shirts and face paint. They hardly looked geeky. Marching proudly at the head of them, as her teammate hoisted a green flag with the words Ryant’s Renegades printed in black