Shadow Mutation (Book Seven) [UNDER MAJOR EDITING]

Chapter 9: Losing Himself

When did school become Casey's worst nightmare?

He keeps his head down as he moves through the halls, hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket. He tries to avoid bumping into people, swerving around them when they come too close, just trying to get to his locker without any trouble.

He used to not mind the attention he received, back when he was loud and uncaring and shot hockey pucks in the hallway. He would almost say he craved it. It's foreign to so desperately wish for invisibility.

He reaches his locker, unlocks it, and pulls it open. Old papers from last year fall out, shoved in haphazardly next to his backpack and homework binders. He still has his old schedule from last year taped to the door, a mass of scrawled lettering.

He grabs his math textbook and his homework binder, slams the locker shut and heads off to class. At least he doesn't have to be here eight hours a day like before.

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His brain feels like mush, swimming with more numbers and calculations than he cares to count, and he drags himself down the hall. Just get it done, get it over with.

He passes a group of guys from the hockey team. The people he's used to playing with have all moved on to better things and now it's all the old benchwarmers who have moved up the ranks. For a second, Casey lets himself miss the fun of being able to goof off with his buddies before practice, even if their friendships didn't go far past the ice. After all, Casey was too busy busting bad guys in his free time.

He reaches up and tugs his hood down further as they laugh and taunt each other.

"Hey, Jones!"

He ignores them. He knows that voice and he doesn't want to speak to its owner.

"Jones! What, you're just gonna ignore me?"

Yes. Yes, that's exactly what he's doing. The hallways have already started to fill up with students moving between classes and Casey tries to lose himself in the crowd, but then he hears a whoop and a rush of footsteps.

He doesn't have time to defend before someone kicks his legs out from under him. Casey hits the ground hard, cracking his head on the floor, and for a second he sees stars. He tries not to show it on his face as Brayden Anderson appears above him, guffawing like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen.

He cups his hand around his mouth. "Woah, timber! Clean up on aisle one, we've got a wipeout!"

A few of the other guys come closer, laughing their stupid asses off as Casey pushes himself into a sit, his tailbone aching almost as much as the back of his head. Fuck, he just got past the concussion from the accident, and now this?

Brayden leans over, hands propped on his knees as he leans closer to Casey, feigning a sad pout. "Aw, what's the matter, Jones? Did you break a hip?"

More laughter from the peanut gallery. Casey reaches for his math binder, biting his tongue harder than he ever has in his life. Ms. Somerset made it clear that he couldn't have another fight go on his record, not with where he's at. The school will just cut him loose if he proves to be more trouble than he's worth.

He gets to his feet and tries to walk around Brayden, but he steps in front of him.

"Ope!"

Casey tries to get around him the other way and again, he's blocked.

"Ope!"

"Move," Casey growls.

"Or what?" Brayden asks.

Casey looks up at him, at his stupid face. He's got a classic hockey boy look—broad-shouldered, square-jawed, dirty blond hair and a smile with one tooth missing and another one chipped. He still has a bruise on his cheekbone from their last encounter.