[This is a sample chapter from The Amazing Adventures of Hobb ‘n Dobbs, Book 2: The Gambler's Gambit By Kyote King (A.K.A. Gary Lee Parker)]
Chapter
1
It was the
end of his second week in high school and Jason Hobb was still frustrated.
Running his hands through his messy crop of dark hair, he growled under his
breath, then snatched up the lock hanging stubbornly from his closed locker. He
desperately spun the little blue wheel one more time, hoping against hope that
this time he’d feel the thus-far unfamiliar click of the latch letting go. No
such luck.
“Aaargh!”
he cursed at the ceiling. “Why-won’t-you-open?”
But no one
heard his plea above the chattering, crashing, jostling din that filled the
hall. For five minutes between each class the school’s hallways became a war
zone. People shoved, ran, leapt, scarfed down snacks, grabbed books, slammed
lockers, and slammed each other.
In exactly
four minutes, ten seconds, with a final swish of feet and the final click of
second period class doors, the halls would be at peace, with nothing to show
for it but a few stray scraps of wadded paper, and perhaps an errant candy
wrapper or two.
But until
then, the war was on.
Hobb
stepped back and kicked the locker as hard as he could, but he only managed to
dent the door slightly and hurt his foot in the process. Throwing a fit seldom
solves a problem. But sometimes it’s all you can do.
“Nice
technique,” said the girl to his right, standing on her tiptoes while
attempting to extract an oversized textbook from the top shelf of her own
locker. “Not very effective, but the yelp at the end was a delightful touch.”
Hobb
glowered at her through hooded eyes, but she just smiled brightly back as
though she’d paid him a genuine complement.
“You’re one
to talk, Addie. I’m surprised you can even reach your lock. Or do you have to
jump up and hang on while you spin the dial?”
At just
five feet tall, Addie Aymes had heard every short joke in the book, and most of
them twice. They rarely fazed her. She just flipped her straight black hair and
grinned, filling her face with those big puppy-dog eyes and those cute little
dimples that no one could resist.
“That’s a
new one, Hobb. First new short joke of the school year. You get a kiss.” And
she popped up on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Now, tell me
your combination and I’ll solve all your problems.”
She pushed
him aside and took hold of his lock, waiting for the numbers. There was nothing
for it, she wasn’t going away, so Hobb gave in and rattled off the numbers under
his breath, looking furtively around to make sure nobody else had heard. As
though he kept some great treasure in his locker others were greedy to steal,
and not just a stack of schoolbooks his classmates would like nothing more than
to avoid forever.
“17-32-12.”
She spun
the lock and it almost immediately sprung open.
“There you
go,” she said, “problem solved. Now you owe me a favor. Hmmm, I’ll have to
think of something good.”
She winked
at him, turned on her heels and pranced away through the thick crowd of
students, threading her way through her classmates as though the halls were
empty and she were simply, happily, dancing. Addie was his favorite
cheerleader, cute and punchy like a cheerleader should be, but also smart as a
whip, with a dry wit that both amused and impressed him. He smiled in spite of
himself.
Then he
turned and pulled open his locker door, and a cascade of books, papers, and
notes promptly came crashing out around his feet.
“Ow!” he
yelped, as a particularly large tome smacked his shin hard. “Crap.”
The hall
filled instantly with laughter, and a tall boy with a short crop of fiery red
hair and a face full of freckles pushed through the crowd and bent to help,
chortling as he handed a stack of books to Hobb.
Justin
Dobbs, Hobbs’ best friend since the first grade, was tall and lean, and strong
as an ox. A rising star on the football team, the Jovial Dobbs couldn’t have
been more opposite from Hobb if he’d tried. Hobb was wiry, Dobbs was muscled;
Hobb had dark, straight, messy hair, and Dobbs had curly red hair; Hobb liked
science, debate, and reading, and Dobbs liked cars, sports, and eating.
But best
friends they were anyway, and they were rarely seen apart. Which is why no one
called them Jason and Justin. They were Hobb ‘n Dobbs, and had been forever.
“What are
you tryin’ to do, Jason? Get out of class for a paper cut?”
“Shut up,
Justin,” said Hobb, grinning and shoving a jumbled mass of books back in the
locker. “Hey, I’ve been thinkin’...”
“Not
again,” said Dobbs.
“Whatever.
You’ll like this. I think we need to buy a generator and put it in the creek
below the treehouse. That way we can put in a couple of lights, and maybe a
plug for a computer or something.”
The two
friends had spent the final weeks of their summer building an elaborate
clubhouse high in a massive oak tree above the creek that divided their two
properties. Since then they’d spent every spare moment at the clubhouse,
avoiding Dobbs’ little sisters and other responsibilities. Improving the place
had become a priority.
“And a
heater wouldn’t be a bad idea either,” said Dobbs. “It’s gonna get cold this
winter.”
“Exactly,”
said Hobb, and his voice rang loudly through a suddenly silent hall.
The place
was still crowded with teens, but where before there’d been a raucous madhouse,
now it was more like a morgue. All was still, but for one lanky boy with
stringy dark hair, a worn gray tee shirt, and faded jeans, who walked
purposefully through the mess. Blushing through acne scars, and keeping his
focus straight ahead, he ignored the shocked looks on the faces of classmates
as he strode to a locker at the end of the hall and began stowing books and
other supplies.
Suddenly
the air was full with whispers. What’s he
doing here? Why would they let him out? I heard he went crazy. I heard he
killed his cat. I heard he killed himself. No, he was too stupid for that. He
should’ve though.
“Seth
Jenkins?” mouthed Dobbs.
Hobb
shrugged and said, “Looks like it.”
“Wow. I
can’t believe the principle let him back in.”
Two years
before, Seth Jenkins had gone crazy. Loudly, and publicly, crazy. At first it
was just the normal bad attitude and after school fighting. But then he
suddenly started wearing long sleeved shirts, even on hot days, and the rumor
he’d become a cutter slipped through the school like ink in water.
Soon he was
spending more time in detention for fighting than he was spending in class.
Everyone said he was doing drugs, and everyone knew it was true. And everyone
hated him, even his teachers, and said so out loud.
He was
finally pulled out of school for good after beating a classmate so severely the
classmate spent three weeks in intensive care and nearly died. No one had seen
him since, and no one wanted to.
Apparently
he had come back.
The
one-minute warning bell clanged through the school like an alarm clock in the
middle of a hard dream, and the hall again burst into a frenzy of life. Hobb
grabbed his math book and slammed his locker shut, but left the lock hanging
unlatched from door. It had become more bother than it was worth.
Then he and
Dobbs rushed off to Mrs. Haney’s class, where, like all of Mrs. Haney’s male
students, they planned on spending fifty minutes dreaming they were each named
Mr. Haney.
*****
The massive
yacht plied the heavy gray waters of the Puget Sound like an alien war machine,
splitting them in a jagged seam, leaving a wide open wound gaping behind as it
crushed its way along. An early autumn chill, intensified by sea-spray and
conspiracy, bit the skin and mind of the gray-eyed man in the business suit
standing on the prow, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded his
head.
He was
desperate. He knew he was desperate. And in desperation he hung on every word
said. His marriage, his position in the community, maybe even his life; it all
hung in the balance. So he listened as the tall, lean, athletic man with the
long, droopy face of an ex-fighter and the pitbull eyes, outlined the plan,
throwing words like daggers above a colorful, blustering silk tie.
If they
could pull this off, the gray-eyed man thought, all his troubles would end. If
they could win this one, this one last gamble, he could save himself. Maybe he
could save it all. Maybe he could even keep his position on the school board.
Hell, why not? Who was to know?
It was the
perfect plan. It couldn’t go wrong. It would plow through his troubles like the
yacht plowed through the bay, inexorably cutting a way out for the man at the
helm; inexorably cutting a breach for his escape.
And soon it would also plow through the lives
of Jason Hobb and Justin Dobbs.