CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kyle marched up the steps to the local high school, squinting in the sun, not knowing why it was hurting his head so much as he approached the front doors. He felt stronger than ever, yet also pained by the sun, eager to get inside. He bounded up the steps, taking them ten at a time, shocked at his speed and strength. In just three steps, he reached the top, and he stood there before the astonished security guard.

“Sorry, school’s in session,” the guard snapped. “Are you a parent?”

Kyle looked him up and down. The guard was a huge man, at least six-five, nearly as wide as Kyle, with a square jaw and a belligerent look on his face.

Kyle shook his head.

“Do I look like a parent to you?” Kyle retorted.

Kyle walked past him, heading for the doors, and he felt a beefy palm on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Don’t touch that door,” the man said. “You don’t get in without a pass.”

The guard shoved Kyle, sending him stumbling back a foot, and Kyle, enraged, suddenly lunged forward and tack