The Seven (Fist of Light Series) by Derek Edgington

it was high time to break up the party. I waited for Em to extricate herself from the window and Jas to exit the side door before rolling it up and getting out. Then I closed the driver’s door possessively before locking it behind me. I shoved the keys into one of my front pockets due habit born through pangs of paranoia; I didn’t want to lose them to some average school pickpocket, or accidental misplacement. I knew it seemed an absurd statement to talk about thieves in a school filled with the rich and successful, but it appeared to me that the affluent were even worse thieves than the poor. Where those left without anything but the clothes on their back were reduced to stealing the bare essentials or begging for their lives, the rich stole from others just because they felt like they deserved your stuff.
    Jas threw me a wave before ambling off. “See ya later, boss.”
    I returned the gesture before pivoting toward Em. “Ready for a new day?”
    She gave me a winning smile from over her shoulder. “Of course, silly. I’m always prepared for everything.”
    I voiced my curiosity over Em’s previous comment. I didn’t see why it needed to wait ‘til after school. “So, what’s this thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
    The look she gave me was intense, and direct. “Oh, I think you know, Caleb. We need to have a little chat about the abilities you’ve recently acquired. I think you’ll find yourself Enlightened, after I show you the way. Meet me in the stadium.”
    I didn’t respond, mostly because I didn’t have even the fragmented pieces of an appropriate response. But she took my non-response as an admission of acceptance. She nodded to herself before her smile appeared once more.

    Fifth period came and went in the blink of an eye, and I was in front of Coach Sanders, with Jas, shortly after I had changed into my P.E. clothes. We were in Sanders’ office, and it was a modest affair, severely lacking in the trophies one would expect to accumulate over the passing of years. When Jas and I entered, we found Mr. Sanders lounging in a black leather chair, feet propped up on an industrial desk. It was a cluttered mess occupied with photographs of family members, though there was one picture of a past championship, trophy held aloft in one of the coach’s powerful hands.
    A gleeful smile lit up his face when he noticed our arrival. “Jas, my boy, it’s great to see you. Caleb, glad you came. Still interested in taking me up on my offer?”
    I shifted from foot to foot restlessly, butterflies tingling relentlessly. I wasn’t sure how Mr. Sanders would take rejection and wasn’t keen on having yet another teacher who wished me ill. “Yeah, well, about that. A lot has happened, and I don’t think it’s possible to join the team. I’m going to have to devote a lot of my time to other pursuits, and I wouldn’t want to join the team without putting forth a full effort.”
    I thought it was quite the eloquent speech. For a millisecond, the coach’s smile turned to ash and something close to exasperation replaced it, but it passed so quickly that I thought it was but my imagination that had conjured the image. A firm, whiter-than-white smile replaced it, and everything returned to normal. This was a kind, understanding person, not capable of being angry with me because it wasn’t in his nature.
    His tone was ponderous when he responded, but light-hearted. “Caleb, that’s quite all right. I could have used someone like you, of course. We are going to the playoffs, and every advantage counts. I wish you luck in whatever you feel is necessary. If you ever need anything, just call.”

    After finishing up my last class, P.E., I remembered with a start the meeting with Em.
    “Oh hey, Jas, I’ve gotta go talk to Em. I’ll meet you later at your mansion.”
    From my position, two lockers down from where Jas stood, it was clear he wasn’t sold on the idea. Maybe he wasn’t as oblivious to the way Em