Dead Hunt

CHAPTER 1 – Friends

The Cougars’ cheerleading squad ran excitedly onto the gymnasium floor for their final routine. The Cougars had already taken home the gold at the regional and provincial competitions, but this last competition was the illustrious Cheer Expo, the big daddy of cheer comps.

Tension and excitement filled the Halifax arena, and when a few hundred high-spirited teenage girls are thrown together into a competitive sport, things have a tendency to get a little nasty. Dirty looks were exchanged between some teams, while others were more vocal in their disapproval of their competitors. The sport may have been called cheerleading, but some of the girls were not exactly cheering each other on. There was plenty of nervous tension to go around as the undefeated Glace Bay Cougars took the floor for the final routine.

The Cougars’ music blared from the massive DJ speakers as the girls performed stunt after stunt practically flawlessly. Double twisting with lots of high-flying aerial tosses to please the roaring crowd.

The gym was alive with excitement and thunderous applause as the Cougars executed a superb routine.

The announcer read the judges’ final decision and dubbed the Cougars the “Triple Threat.” They had won all three major competitions.

Lucy and her two best friends, Lauren and Emma, anxiously packed their duffle bags as they talked about the grueling event and some of the rude comments the losing teams had made.

Lucy’s perfectly proportioned figure and extraordinary beauty often left men yearning in wanton desire and women thoroughly envious. Her silky brown hair framed her strikingly beautiful face perfectly, accentuating her deep green eyes and a breathtaking smile. Her soft, smooth skin tanned with just a hint of sun.

Lauren was a year older and a couple of inches taller than Lucy’s five foot frame. Both Lucy and Lauren were flyers and thoroughly dedicated to the sport of cheerleading. Although Lauren often considered herself rather plain looking, her girl-next-door good looks made her anything but average. A smooth cape of midnight colored hair hung over her shoulders and down her slender waist. Her chocolate brown eyes sang of sweetness and seduction, a song that captivated the wants and desires of many teenage boys.

Emma was quite simply the lovable one. Where Lucy looked like a runway model and Lauren had the whole girl-next-door thing happening, Emma was delightfully adorable in her own perky, innocent and naïve way. She was the same age and height as Lucy but slightly heavier due to her overly large breasts that looked entirely out of place on her petite frame. Her natural, wavy blonde hair and baby blue eyes made her an easy target for typical cliché comments: Blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs and brainless.

Emma was naïve about a lot of things, but brainless she was not. She managed to keep an A minus average with very little effort.

Typically, cheer teams had the larger girls on the bottom with the smaller, lighter girls on top, but Emma was unusually strong for someone her size, and that landed her a spot on the team as a base instead of a flyer. That and the fact that she did not particularly like being tossed up in the air because it scared her.

The three girls walked to the spot where Lucy’s boyfriend, Paul Connors, said they had parked the van. Lucy was pleasantly surprised that Paul, Wade Adams, and Michael Blackwood had made the six-hour trip to watch the competition.

Paul, the high school football hero, made no qualms about the fact that he did not think the girls were real athletes because he did not consider cheerleading to be a real sport. Whenever Paul made one of his “Cheerleading is not a real sport” comments, Lucy would tell him that athletes lifted weights, but cheerleaders lifted athletes. She enjoyed reminding him that football players could easily hold someone her size over their head with one hand, but so could Emma. The difference was Emma had the strength and the balance to hold them up there a lot longer.

“Cheerleading is about strength, balance and skill,” Lucy often told him. “Football is nothing more than a bunch of smelly boys knocking the crap out of each other and patting their teammates on the butt.”

That aspect of sports always amused Lucy; women were known to hug each other at the drop of a hat, while men always stayed a macho-safe distance away from each other. But, when it came to sports, you never saw girls patting each other on the butt, yet in every male dominated sport the men did exactly that.

Cheer competitions bored Paul and he rarely attended them, so Lucy had been pleasantly surprised to see them there. Of course, the boys had spent more time drooling over the other cheerleaders, but at least they had made the trip. Lucy, Emma and Lauren could have crammed themselves back into the small, smelly school bus with their team mates, but the opportunity to drive back with the boys was a welcome diversion.

Michael, or ‘Mikey’, as Paul often called him, secretly had a crush on Lucy. Everyone did for that matter, but Michael tried to hide his feelings, especially around her extremely jealous boyfriend. Sometimes Michael just could not take his eyes off her. When Lucy climbed into the van wearing a tiny pair of shorts that would make Daisy Duke envious, and a belly shirt that revealed just enough flesh to make you want to see more, this was one of those times when he could not help but steal a look or two.

Michael was a walking cliché of the high school nerd. He was president of the science club, the computer club, the chess club, and every other club where brain was preferable to brawn. His thick, Buddy Holly glasses were forever sliding down his nose, and he was always carrying a heavy stack of books that looked like they weighed more than he did.

Michael’s feelings for Lucy were not what you would call a well kept secret. Even Lucy knew he had a major crush on her since they were twelve. She did not particularly like Michael, and she had to make sure she did not do or saying anything that he might take the wrong way and interpret as flirting, especially around Paul. Michael had enough problems with Paul as it was. For the longest time those two hated each other. Not disapproved or disliked; it had been pure, unbridled hatred. It was Wade Adams, the foreign exchange student from Australia, who eventually brought the three of them together.

Paul was one of the popular kids at school, especially around the hordes of girls who went all gaga over his muscular six foot seven frame. Paul wanted to be on the wrestling team, but there was no one big enough or brave enough to compete against him. The coach suggested he try football and that was where Paul made his mark. Of course, his mark usually came in the form of bruises, dislocated shoulders and the occasional broken bone that he inflicted on the opposing team when he steam-rolled over them. More than once local newspapers labeled him as “240 pounds of pure mean”.

Paul also had a mean streak off the field. It was a cruel side of him Lucy did not like, and there was nothing she could do about it. The mean side of Paul came in the form of being a bully. If some unsuspecting kid rubbed him the wrong way for any reason, Paul made that kid’s life a living hell, humiliating him in front of the entire school body every chance he got. He did not pick on people for the sake of being a bully; in that regard, he was a bit different. "It’s only people who deserve it," Paul would say, and as far as he was concerned, Michael deserved it.

The bullying rarely got physical because nobody had the balls to stand up to Paul, but it was not all that long ago when that changed.

Paul decided he wanted Michael’s seat in the school cafeteria and told him to move. No one knows if something just snapped in Michael’s brain, if he was high on drugs or if he simply decided life was just not worth living. Michael stood up, as usual, but instead of picking up his food tray and moving to a different table, he looked up at the goliath and said the one word Paul was not accustomed to hearing from five foot seven, one hundred and thirty pound science geeks.

“No,” Michael said defiantly.

“What did you say to me, you little piss ant?” Paul blinked in disbelief…

To his credit, or sheer stupidity, no one really knows for sure, Michael stood his ground.

“You find somewhere else to sit. I was here first,” Michael said, his voice cracking slightly, but his resolve unwavering.

Walk into any high school cafeteria and the several dozen conversations happening at any particular time build to a numbing roar, but on this particular day, the instant silence that filled the cafeteria was far more numbing than the conversations could ever be. Jaws dropped in astonishment; anticipation hung thick as they waited for the beating that was soon to follow.

Not a fight. A fight would imply that the other person had a chance, maybe even a slim chance at best, but a chance just the same. The wide eyed teenagers stared at the massive Paul and then at Michael. No, this would not be a fight. It would be a beating. Paul was going to beat the crap out of Michael, and everyone knew it.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” Paul growled.

“No,” Michael repeated, his determination resolute.

Paul’s hand snapped forward and pushed Michael. To Paul it was only a push, but to Michael it was more like having a wrecking ball slam into your chest. The force of Paul’s push sent Michael flying backwards. He was airborne for five or six feet before crashing hard onto the cafeteria floor, sliding another few feet before skidding to a humiliating stop.

As the students roared in laughter Wade got up to help Michael and quickly noticed that even with the wind thoroughly knocked out of him, Michael was still trying to get up.

“This kid must have a death wish,” Wade thought.

To everyone who was watching, which just happened to be the entire school cafeteria, it looked as if the Australian was helping Michael up, but with the slightest of movements that only Michael could see, Wade shook his head “No”; his hand was restraining Michael.

“You’re outmatched, Mate,” Wade said, barely louder than a whisper.

With a defeated look, Michael blinked knowingly, and Wade effortlessly pulled Michael to his feet. What happened next was even more unexpected than Michael’s infantile attempt at defiance.

Wade faced the laughing football player, his Australian accent grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Oy! I’m impressed. You knocked the little bloke down,” Wade said as he walked towards Paul, fists clenched. Paul’s laughing faded to a smile. “Why don’t you try knocking ME down?” Wade challenged.

Now Wade would not be considered a small guy at five foot eleven and sporting fourteen inch biceps, but even his muscular physique seemed dwarfed next to the bulk of Paul’s massive frame. Paul laughed and snapped a right-hook so fast it caught Wade flush on the jaw, spinning him in a vicious circle.

Wade was no stranger to fighting and expected Paul to swing, but even he was caught off-guard at how fast the big guy was; people that big were rarely that fast. Paul was, however, and the punch left Wade bent at the waist and spitting blood.

What was more surprising to everyone in the cafeteria, Paul included, was that Wade did not go down. Sure, he was bent at the waist and he had to use one hand to steady himself, but the son-of-a-bitch was still on his feet.

Paul stared in disbelief.

Wade shook the cobwebs from his head, straightened up and faced Paul.

“You hit like a Sheila,” Wade smirked, wiping the blood from his lip.

Infuriated, Paul threw another vicious punch, but this time Wade was prepared for Paul’s speed and sashayed away from the punch with the grace of a dancer, and crashed his own fist into the side of Paul’s jaw.

Paul didn’t even blink.

He threw another punch at Wade, a straight left, and Wade ducked that punch equally as impressive. He threw another crushing blow to Paul’s temple. He thought he saw Paul wince but could not be sure because Paul grabbed him in a crushing bear hug, then slammed him hard on the cafeteria floor like a child discarding a broken toy.

It doesn’t matter if it is a high school fight or a bar fight, most people lack the skill of professional boxers and rarely stay on their feet for more than a few minutes; this fight was no different. Both boys rolled around the floor in something that looked more like a wrestling match than a fist fight as the cafeteria chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

The chanting brought the school principal, Mr. MacIntyre, and a few male teachers racing into the cafeteria to break up the fight.

“That’s it, Connors,” the principal barked at Paul. “You’ve finally got yourself expelled! And you,” he turned to face Wade, “you just might find yourself on the next flight back to Australia. Who started this?”

“I did,” Michael volunteered.

The principal turned and stared at Michael in disbelief.

“Show’s over!” MacIntyre finally said, ordering the crowd of students back to their seats.

“Office!” MacIntyre ordered. The three boys turned silently and headed towards the principal’s office with MacIntyre following close behind.

The cafeteria broke into a multitude of excited conversations as soon as the three teens and the principal exited the room. They were pretty sure the fight between Paul and Wade would resume after school, and what a fight that was going to be. They remembered the last time Paul was in a fight. Some big guy from the rival high school had decided that Paul was not all that big and had challenged him to a fight. He quickly learned, the hard way, that Paul was freakishly strong and hit like a tank. That fight lasted one punch, leaving the challenger unconscious and missing three teeth. But this Australian guy had not only taken Paul’s punch, he didn’t even go down, not to mention he was fast, and he had gotten in more shots than Paul did!

It was going to be one hell of a fight after school.

“Ok Michael, what happened?” The principal demanded as he closed the office door hard and plopped in the chair behind his desk.

Mr. MacIntyre knew his students, some better than others, but the students also knew him. If the principal used your first name in these types of situations, that meant he was mildly upset or maybe even a little pissed. If he used your last name, he was really irritated, and if he used your full name, then you were pretty much toast.

For some reason he always referred to Paul by his last name. Paul always managed to get under the principal’s skin regardless of the circumstances.

“I punched Paul,” Michael explained in a dead-pan voice as if the answer was obvious. “He only swung back in self-defense. I ducked and he hit Wade by mistake. Wade was only defending himself. It’s not their fault, sir. It’s mine. I started it.”

Both teens looked at Michael with stunned looks on their faces.

“You…punched…Connors?” the principal asked in slow, steady syllables, equally as stunned.

“Yes, sir,” Michael said rubbing his hand. “It was like punching a tree.”

The other two boys chuckled. The principal shot a dirty look their way. Mr. MacIntyre had a weird looking vein on his forehead that was just below his receding hairline, and whenever he got mad, the vein seemed to stick out a little further and grow a little longer. Right now it looked as if the vein was throbbing.

The boys stopped laughing.

The principal looked from Michael to Paul and back again. He said nothing for what seemed like an eternity before turning to Wade.

“What do you have to say, Mr. Adams?” When he used 'mister' you could tell he was pissed, just not necessarily pissed at you.

“It’s like my mate said, Mr. MacIntyre, self-defense.”

The principal was not buying it.

“Care to explain why you hit Connors?” he asked Michael.

“I don’t like him.”

Paul and Wade tried to hide a smile. It didn’t work.

“Something funny, gentlemen?”

“No, sir,” they replied in unison.

“Listen, Michael,” the principal took on a more understanding tone, “just tell me what really happened and he is out of here. You do not have to be afraid of Connors.”

Michael looked directly into the principal’s eyes.

“If I was afraid of him, I wouldn’t have hit him.”

Paul hid a laugh behind a cough; Wade turned his head to hide his smile. Michael was making it real hard for the two of them to not burst out laughing. If that vein in MacIntyre’s head throbbed any more it might explode.

Michael could be cocky when he wanted to be, and it was obvious he was not the least bit intimidated by the principal’s cold stare.

MacIntyre leaned back in his chair and stared at the three boys. He did not care how good a football player Connors was, he was a bully and he wanted him out of his school. He finally had his chance to expel him, but Michael was making it difficult. He did not want to expel a top student like Michael because he finally had the courage to stand up to a bully, and there was no way he was going to send Wade back to Australia for defending himself.

The problem was that, if he left those two off the hook, he had no choice but to give up his chance to expel Connors.

“Well, Connors,” he finally announced, “looks like you got a Get Out of Jail Free card.” He paused as he stared hard at Paul. “This time.”

He stood up and walked to the front of his desk, looking at Michael.

“I trust you’ve got that out of your system and are through punching students?”

“Yes, sir,” Michael replied.

“The three of you report to detention, now!” MacIntyre ordered. “And Connors, I trust there will be no retribution on your part.”

“Nope, I’m good.” Paul answered with a smile.

Everyone doubted that answer.

“What about you?” the principal asked, looking at Wade.

“No worries, Mate.”

“Good. If I hear that the three of you decided to resume your little shenanigans, you are all suspended. Do I make myself clear?”

They nodded.

“Don’t think for a minute that you are fooling me with this ridiculous story,” MacIntyre told them, “So all three of you can consider yourselves on probation. That means I don’t care if it’s on school property or not, if I hear you were fighting, you are all expelled. Got it?”

All three nodded again as MacIntyre growled, “Now get out of here.”

They left the office and one of the teachers who helped break up the fight escorted them to detention. When MacIntyre was sure they were out of earshot he let out the laugh he was suppressing.

“Michael punched Connors! I would have paid to see that!”

Detention hall was empty and all three boys sat, arms folded, without saying a word. Eventually the teacher grew bored with the silence and stepped out of the room. They always did.

“Why?” Paul asked in a flat, monotone voice.

The other two looked at him.

“I can understand Outback Jack there picking up for you,” Paul explained, “But why did you take the heat?”

“You may not give a shit about getting expelled,” Michael answered, “but there is a whole student body, and a football team, that does care. They want to win the championship this year, and, as much as I hate to admit it, they probably can’t do it without you. I did it for them, not you. And I wasn’t about to let this guy get deported for helping me.”

Paul leaned back and said nothing. A few minutes later he mumbled, “I can respect that.” Another long pause later he added, “Thanks.”

“For what?” Michael asked.

Paul ignored his question and turned his attention to Wade, “You’re one tough, friggin’ Aussie. That punch would have knocked out a lesser man.”

“I saw bloody stars, Mate.” Wade laughed. “That would have been bloody humiliating, to stand up to you and get knocked out with one punch. No worries about deporting me, I would have swum all the way back to Australia in shame.”

They all laughed.

Paul rubbed his jaw, “You gotta mighty mean hook yourself.”

“I didn’t think you even felt it,” Wade said with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I felt it,” Paul smiled.

“For the record,” Wade told Michael, “hitting him is like punching a tree. What the hell do you have in your head?” he asked Paul.

“Just concrete and stuff,” Paul answered with a grin.

They all laughed again; more awkward silence followed.

“Everyone probably thinks we are going to finish this after school,” Paul finally said, and Wade nodded in agreement.

“I think it’s safe to say,” Paul continued, rubbing his jaw, “if we go at it again, we’ll both probably land in the hospital.”

“Bloody oath, Mate.”

“What?” Paul asked.

“True enough.” Wade explained, “So…we good?”

Paul nodded, “We good.”

And, from that point on, they became good friends. It wasn’t every day that Paul met someone who not only stood up to him, but would have actually given him a run for his money. He wasn’t afraid of Wade, but he knew it would be one a hell of a fight, and win, lose, or draw, he would have been hurting for many days. Wade was tough and stood up for someone, and Paul respected him for that.

He still disliked Michael, but he did respect the fact that even though Michael knew he didn’t have a prayer against him, he still stood his ground. And more importantly, Michael could have easily had him expelled but had been willing to take the blame for the better of the entire school. He had to respect someone who put other people first. Michael still got on his nerves, especially when he caught him staring at his girlfriend, but he respected what Michael did and decided to leave him alone.

Wade and Michael also became good friends. Wade started to attend Paul’s football games and always invited Michael.

Over time Paul learned to tolerate Michael, and though he would never admit it, he occasionally enjoyed having Michael around. They still disliked each other for the most part, one good deed was not about to undo years of torment and hatred, but they could at least be civilized to each other.

Paul still made the occasional dig at him, but it was more in jest than to be mean. Paul learned that Michael was pretty quick with the come-backs and wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion.

Paul jokingly challenged Michael to a game of ‘knuckles’, fully expecting Michael to be wincing like a little girl within a few minutes, and quickly learned that Michael had more than just a quick mind; he also had reflexes like a cat, because it was Paul who was getting the sore hands from the game. Even Wade tried, and Michael beat him at the game too. What Michael lacked in physical size he more than compensated for with quick wit and lightening-fast hands.

Paul and Wade started teaching Michael how to defend himself, not that Michael would ever need protection when he had those two around, but they both insisted he learn how to defend himself and start lifting something other than school books. It took some doing, but they finally managed to get his nose out of the books and into the gym.

“If he ever decides to put those fast hands of his in a pair of boxing gloves,” Wade told Paul, “he’d be bloody dangerous.”

“He already is dangerous,” Paul answered on one of those rare moments he was actually being serious. “The rest of his body just doesn’t know it yet.”

Other than that one, brief interlude of giving Michael a compliment, Paul constantly complained about Michael to Lucy. He told her that if Wade insisted on dragging that geek along, he at least had to try to make him less ‘geeky’; he had his own reputation to protect. Lucy just laughed.

An outsider might have believed those two were actually becoming friends, but Lucy was not an outsider, and she fully expected that little house of cards to come crashing down.

Lucy knew how much Michael irritated Paul, especially when Paul caught Michael staring at her. She didn’t like the way he sometimes looked at her either, but she would be the least of Michael’s worries.

Paul had a nasty jealous streak, and even Wade would not be able to stop him from stomping Michael into the ground if Michael did not learn to keep his eyes to himself.

Paul and Michael’s friendship, for the lack of a better term, was putting extra pressure on her, and she did not like it one bit. She had to be constantly aware that she did not say anything to Michael that Paul might misinterpret.

It was all quite exhausting, and even though she was glad Michael was no longer subject to Paul’s constant bullying, her life was a hell of a lot simpler when he was.