The Mars Project by Julie Steimle (english readers TXT) 📖

most cases I would have, except Bradley only picked on him because he was with me.” She grabbed a ketchup packet, biting off a corner and squeezing the contents out onto the chicken.

Still shaking his head, Jeff closed his eyes. “Which is why I think you should choose another tactic to discourage him. I think Brad has a Narcissus complex.”

“A what?” Zormna asked, putting more ketchup on her chicken.

“A Narcissus complex. You know, a guy who thinks he is wonderful—thinks he can claim any girl he wants….” he explained.

“That’s not Narcissus,” Jennifer cut in before taking a bite of her last corn chip. “That guy just stared at his reflection until he wasted away and died.”

Jeff glanced at Jennifer only slightly as he endeavored to ignore her intrusion in what had been a private conversation. He said to Zormna, “You know what I am talking about. That story about that man who thought he had everything. He wanted the girl too, and in the process accidentally hurt her. You know it.”

“I never heard of it,” Jennifer interjected still, brushing off her pants and standing up. Kevin silently rose with her, keeping his distance from Jeff as he never quite reconciled with Jeff’s threatening him and Darren to keep quiet about Zormna’s secret.

However, Zormna nodded. “I know it. Only his name wasn’t Narcissus.” She stood up also, giving up on the chicken which couldn’t be improved by ketchup after all.

Jeff rose with them. “But you know what I am talking about.”

Zormna nodded. “But he can’t hurt me like that guy hurt that girl.”

“It isn’t that.” Jeff shook his head, not so sure. “Think about it. You are in a sticky situation. The FBI are watching.”

“…Just over there, I know.” Zormna completed his thought with a little wave to the front parking lot. “And all around campus, I’m sure. We have a new janitor, among other things.”

He leaned closer to her. “Zormna, this is serious. Until we can go Home, you are going to have to be a bit more discrete. That means no beating up football players and wrestlers.”

“What a shame. You might miss it,” Zormna turned her eyes to the branches overhead.

“I’m not joking,” Jeff growled through his teeth. “Be a little girly, would you? You might think this is just a stupid game, but those people are out there. Those people that killed your great aunt will probably come back to make sure the job is done.”

Zormna nearly said something to stop him in protest, but he beat her to it.

“—And I am positive they might have a link with the FBI, because up until the FBI found her, your great aunt was living safely undetected for many years. Now you don’t want that to happen to you, do you?” Jeff folded his arms and waited for her response. His eyes fixed darkly on her face.

She sulkily averted her gaze.

“Do you?” he asked again.

Cringing, Zormna closed her eyes. “No. Of course not.”

He nodded then picked up her broken book bag and handed it to her. “Then be careful, and play nice. You have already drawn enough attention.”

Taking the bag, she slung it under her arm in a huff. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Since the start of the school year, all her freedom had gone, and she hated playing like a kid for those around them who were watching. And though Jeff was used to playing a part, she hated it with all her soul—and that made her cranky.

She briskly turned to go to the school building.

“Jennifer’s parents slit your bag on purpose, didn’t they?” He walked with her up the hill to the front doors of the school.

Refusing to answer, Zormna pulled on the handle to let herself inside.

But Jeff stopped her, setting his hand against the door with his full weight. “They did, didn’t they?”

Taking in another breath to contain her temper, Zormna ground out, “I don’t need to be reminded how much I am hated, Jafarr. So get out of my way.”

He stayed there. “You’re going to have to deal with this one way or another.”

She leaned closer to him so that they stood practically nose-to-nose, though he was nearly a foot taller than she was. “Don’t make me break my promise about fighting wrestlers, Jafarr.”

Jeff closed his eyes and painfully smiled, taking his hand off the door. He stepped back.

“Thank you.” Zormna pulled the door open then walked through.

“Thank you,” someone else replied, following Zormna in, and other students entered as well. Jeff saw Adam and Sam walk through with smirks on their faces. His face went hot, but he bit his embarrassment back and walked inside after them.

*

“Sometimes I think she doesn’t take her situation seriously,” Jeff muttered mostly to himself though also to those who were with him, while lifting a box of detergent off the shelf and placing it in the grocery cart.

‘Eric’, the redheaded man who was a known ‘renter’ with the Streigle family, living above the garage with another fellow smiled and set the fabric softener inside the cart with the detergent. “Well, it is possible she just doesn’t want to think about it. I don’t think she would purposefully sabotage herself. Perhaps she’s under too much stress. Maybe she is overworked.”

Jeff huffed first then coughed on a laugh. “No. She’s just plain Zormna. So…proud.” Then sighing, he continued, “I nearly told her, you know.”

Eric looked up. “You couldn’t do it, could you?”

Jeff shook his head. “How am I supposed to tell her? She’s been in a bad mood all week. The McLennas have been really hard on her. And I didn’t think more bad news would help.”

‘Aaron’, the twenty-something blonde with a light smackling of freckles across his face who also ‘rented’ from them walked into their aisle. “I found it.”

Jeff looked up and eyed the can. “Spam?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. And I’m telling you, it’s a bit salty, but it is almost perfect if you mash it up and mix it with the gravy. We’re having a real meal tonight.”

Eric laughed. “Aaron, when did you learn how to cook?”

Shrugging as he pointed at Jeff, Aaron said, “It’s his aunt’s recipe. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

He put it in the cart.

Smirking at the can, “What’s next on the list?” Jeff asked.

Eric looked down at a folded piece of notebook paper and read off the many scratchings on it. “We got toilet paper, detergent, shampoo…. Hey, you could get the eggs and milk while we go get the eight pound bag of granola.”

Jeff laughed. “Do they sell them in eight pound bags?”

Aaron shrugged as Eric responded. “Nah, it just feels that heavy. Your Aunt Mary may be quite the cook, but I still think she should do the shopping.”

Aaron laughed. “Better not let her hear you say that.” Mimicking her voice, “I do the cooking and you do the shopping. That way it is all fair.”

Jeff laughed at the good impersonation. “I’ll go get the eggs.”

He strolled down the aisle, watching his shoes and then the signs above, reading them as he passed through the store towards the diary section. There was a sale on pork n’ beans in aisle seven. A woman was also handing out free samples of the new Polish sausages covered in Ranchero barbecue sauce. Jeff snatched a toothpick full as he passed. Licking his lips, he stuffed the toothpick into his pocket. Once he passed the corn chips and ready-packaged dip, he turned to the dairy case near the frozen foods section opening one of the clear doors. Shoppers passed, hardly giving him notice, though someone peeked at his scars.

One of the courtesy clerks walked by with the dust mop, humming to his own tune that was quite off from the store’s music. Jeff smirked at the small headphones dangling out of the worker’s ears and running under his shirt, hiding the radio he obviously wasn’t allowed to have. Jeff lifted two cartons of eggs out of the refrigerator and then went over to the milk where he opened that door. Taking one quart jug of milk out of that, he turned to close the door, carefully balancing the eggs. As he walked back to join the other two, Jeff overheard a pair of voices in conversation an aisle over. One was so disturbingly familiar that he stopped abruptly. His heart thundered involuntarily. He could tell they were coming nearer. And though he was not afraid of who was speaking, he really didn’t want a confrontation with him either.

Stashing the eggs and milk in the nearest open freezer compartment, Jeff quickly hurried away from the owner of the voice, toward the other end of the aisle. The conversation passed out of his hearing by then, but the pounding in his chest didn’t stop. He carefully rounded the corner to the end of the aisle then casually peered into the next. At the end, he saw whom he thought he had heard. It was Agent Palmer—the FBI agent he had met at summer camp. He was with some other man, one he didn’t recognize. The other man was intriguing, though. There was something about him that piqued Jeff’s interest.

Getting a better look at him, Jeff memorized the new man’s coloring, shape, height and face. Dark hair, almost like his old pal Dzhon’s, it also had a reddish sheen to it. This man was dressed in a basic business suit, pushing a mostly empty grocery cart. The bottom was covered in frozen dinners and instant coffee. Apparently this man did not get out much and he wasn’t a healthy eater even though he was lean and reasonably tall.

Nodding to himself, Jeff walked absently to the aisle over where he browsed down that way to the end. He peered carefully past the chip bags and dip to see if the men had moved any, though he went closer, banking on the possibility to hear what they were saying. The earlier conversation had been unintelligible.

“…long do you expect before they come looking for you?” Agent Palmer asked, still standing there and peering at the man’s frozen dinners. “Her memory is phenomenally healing.”

The man he was speaking to didn’t seem to be paying attention at first. However, as Jeff watched, he changed his mind. His manner was more pensive than Jeff had encountered among the FBI. As Jeff observed more, he realized that the man with dark hair was also exhausted. There was also something familiar in his bearing, though Jeff could not pinpoint what it was.

“I’m not so sure they want to come looking. They seem more occupied with protecting themselves than with retaliation against us.” The man placed a frozen broccoli and fettuccini casserole into the cart.

Agent Palmer sighed. “I’m sure that may be true about the girl. But we know nothing about the boy. I think he is more dangerous than he comes across.”

“Than a punk kid from Chicago who had been in a gang?” The other man chuckled. “Don’t worry, Palmer. We’re taking care of it. He is being carefully watched.”

The men started to round the bend toward the other freezer section. Jeff stepped back to be farther behind the chips.

“And where is he now?” Agent Palmer asked, a little testier than normal. “Because he was supposed to be at the annual scoliosis testing the last hour of school, but he ditched. The student teacher reported him missing.” 

A student teacher as an agent… The final hour? Jeff wondered which one that was? Not that he and Zormna hadn’t been careful, but there were so many new teachers and aides that year that it was difficult to see who was real and who was a plant.

The new man turned to face the agent. His tired blue eyes showed that he was trying to keep positive. “Please keep calm. He’s probably just avoiding people making a fuss about the scars on his back.”

Which was true. Jeff had snuck off campus rather than endure a bunch of adults fussing over the burn barks