B005N8ZFUO EBOK (15 page)

Authors: David Lubar

BOOK: B005N8ZFUO EBOK

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T
he next Friday, right after classes. I was sitting in detention once again. It was Miss Nomad’s turn to play zookeeper. But she wasn’t paying much attention to us. Her desk was covered with leaning towers of papers and file folders. She was busy cleaning out one of her desk drawers when she knocked over a file folder, spilling a stack of papers.

“I got it,” I said.

“Thank you, Martin.” She smiled at me, and then went back to sorting through the drawer.

I guess I still felt sort of bad about some of the things I’d said to her. Maybe I could say something nice about one of her poems. I walked over to the front of her desk and started gathering up the papers. But it wasn’t a pile of poems. The folder was labeled ALTERNATIVE EDUCATION COMMITTEE. When I saw that the sheet on top was a memo from Principal Davis, I couldn’t help reading it. I skimmed the memo, and then the next piece of paper. It was a copy of a letter from the state Board of Education. There was a bunch of other stuff: memos, letters, even some copies of newspaper articles. I didn’t look at all of it, but I saw enough to know what was going on.

After detention, I rushed upstairs. I reached the room at the same time as Cheater.

“Wait till you hear my news,” he said.

“I’ve got news, too,” I told him.

“What is it?” Torchie asked.

“The state might close this place,” I explained. “They’re having this big inspection at the end of the year.”

“Why would they close Edgeview?” Torchie asked.

“I guess some people don’t think the school is doing any good.” It felt strange to realize that there were people arguing over what was best for me—people who had never met me, people who had never bothered to ask my opinion.

“Well, it isn’t, is it?” Lucky said.

“I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered what I thought. There wasn’t anything any of us could do. We didn’t have that kind of power. The adults were going to make the decision. And June was far away. “What’s your news?” I asked Cheater.

“Check this out,” he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “It was in yesterday’s newspaper.”

“Pinball tournament!” I said, reading the ad. “Hey, it’s tonight at nine.”

“So what?” Trash asked. “They won’t let us go.” He looked around the room at us. “Hey, what are you all grinning about?”

“You’ll see,” I told him. “I just hope you aren’t afraid of high places.” It was time for a road trip. And so we added Trash to our Friday night gang and headed off that evening for MondoVideo, our pockets filled with quarters thanks to Lucky and his endless supply.

The Edgies never had a chance.

I thought for sure Flinch would win the tournament. I hadn’t counted on Trash’s telekinesis. He kept giving the ball a little nudge here and there. Just enough to keep it in play and make it hit the highest-scoring targets and bumpers.

In the end, Trash took first place, Flinch took second, and I took third. I figured my third place was just as good as a first, since I was the only player without any special advantage. We all got little plastic trophies, and some angry looks from the Edgies.

I didn’t think it would go any further than that. But they were waiting for us outside the arcade. Ten or twelve of them. “Get out of here,” the Edgie at the front of the pack said. He looked like he was at least sixteen. He was wearing a varsity jacket—the kind you get when you play sports, with a big E for “Edgeview High” in front that had a picture of a football in the middle of the letter. He was the biggest one in the crowd.

“We’re going,” I said. I started to cross the street.

“Yeah,” Flinch said. “No reason to stay. We got our trophies.”

The guy with the varsity jacket swore and said, “Don’t come back.”

The others followed me across the street and we headed toward the school.

As we reached the wooded hill that led to the pipe, Cheater said, “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Is anyone here thinking about kicking the crap out of me?” he asked.

“Not me,” I said.

“Me either,” Lucky said.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Flinch told him. “But not at the moment.”

“I sure ain’t,” Torchie said.

I had a sudden bad feeling. “Do you only pick up stuff from people real close by?” I asked Cheater.

“As far as I know,” he said.

“What if a bunch of people had the same thought? You think it might carry farther?” As I said this, I looked behind us.

Half a block away, we were being stalked by a mob of Edgies.

“Should we make a run for it?” Cheater asked, glancing toward the woods.

That didn’t sound like a bad idea to me. The end of the pipe was masked by bushes. If we headed right into the woods, we could be out of sight before the Edgies caught up. On the other hand, I hated to run away. I waited to see what the others did.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Lucky said, “but I’m tired of everyone treating me like garbage.” He stopped walking and turned to face the Edgies. “Nobody’s pushing me around.”

“Yeah, no more,” Flinch said. He stopped walking, too.

“No more,” Cheater said.

Torchie nodded. He moved next to Cheater. So did I.

The varsity jacket guy stepped out from the mob as the rest of them stopped about ten feet from us. “I don’t want to see you around here again. Got it?”

Lucky moved toward him. “Then keep your eyes closed, jerk.” Varsity swore again and pushed Lucky with both hands.

Lucky staggered two steps away, then lunged forward and returned the shove. Varsity went back hard. He plowed into the Edgies behind him, and a couple of them went down. I would have been amazed at Lucky’s strength if I hadn’t been standing next to Trash. His grunt told me what had really happened—he’d given Varsity a little extra push.

A couple of the Edgies slipped toward the back of the mob. We were still outnumbered, but the odds were getting better.

“You asked for it,” Varsity said as he scrambled to his feet. He pulled off his jacket and threw it to the ground. It landed where I could read the name written across the back.
Walden
. I guess that was his last name.

“Kick his butt, Walden,” a kid in the mob said.

“Yeah, stomp on his face,” another kid shouted.

I still didn’t like the odds. If Lucky won, the rest of the kids might jump him. If he lost, they’d probably jump us. If we ran, they were close enough to catch us. It was time for a show of force.

As they told us in school:
Act like a criminal and people will treat you like one
. I stepped up next to Lucky and spat out the first lie that came to mind. “Hey, I’m already doing time for assault. What’s a few more years?” I figured, with our reputation, they might think I really was dangerous. I did my best to look mean.

“Gonna have your hands full,” Flinch said, stepping next to me. He
leaned forward, putting his face close to Walden. “But I don’t think I have anything to worry about. You probably punch like a little old lady.” He turned his head away from Walden and grinned at us.

Walden threw a sucker punch, trying to hit Flinch when he wasn’t looking.

Needless to say, Flinch’s head was nowhere near Walden’s fist.

“Missed, granny,” Flinch said as Walden spun halfway around in his attempt to smash what wasn’t there.

Torchie headed for the woods. Oh man, if he ran, we were doomed. Any sign of weakness and the mob would rush us. I was about to call after him when he returned, clutching a thick stick. He stepped next to Flinch, holding the stick at both ends. I could see a glowing spot in the center on the side nearest Flinch. I had no idea what he planned to do with a burning stick. He turned to his right and nodded to Cheater.

“What’s he doing?” I whispered to Lucky.

Lucky shrugged.

Walden looked over his shoulder. His buddies were all hanging back. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s kick some butt.”

None of them moved.

Cheater stepped next to Torchie. He threw up his hands like a karate master. I thought he was going to chop the stick, splitting it with his hand. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he paused, glanced at Trash, then at Torchie, and pointed up in the air over Torchie’s head. Trash smiled and nodded.

Torchie raised the stick, holding it high over his head, still grasping it with one hand at each end.

Cheater crouched, then leaped. Trash grunted again, pushing Cheater higher in the air. As Cheater flew up, he shouted, “Hiyaaaa!” and snapped out a kick. The stick split with a sharp crack, breaking right where Torchie had burned it. As the pieces twirled through the air, two of the kids in the mob ran away.

Trash leaped forward, slashing out with the edge of his right hand. He hit one of the pieces as it fell. The piece flew like it had been blasted
from a cannon. It shot across the street in a high arc, sailing over the cars that were parked along the other side of the road.

The night fell dead quiet as everyone watched. Nobody moved or breathed until the stick crashed through the front window of a house across the street. The sound of breaking glass is one of the few things on earth that can send any kid scurrying.

The Edgies took off.

Walden was right there with them. He didn’t even stop to grab his jacket.

Between the performance we’d put on and the fear of getting blamed for the window, I guess they’d decided it was a good idea to leave the scene. So did we. As the porch light went on in the house across the street, we raced to the woods and headed into the pipe.

“We were awesome,” Flinch said. “What a team.”

“That was so cool,” Torchie said. “I knew Cheater would figure out what I was thinking about chopping the stick. But I never would have thought up the kick part. That was so great.”

“Yeah, nice move with the stick,” Lucky said. “You, too, Trash.”

“Nice and stupid,” Trash said. “I almost broke my hand when I hit it. But it was worth it to see their faces.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t think we’re going to get any more trouble from Edgies.”

We pushed aside the manhole cover and climbed up to the school yard. I never thought I’d view it as a safe harbor. At the moment, I was glad to be back.

Between our victory over the Edgies and our smashing success at pinball, we were one happy crowd as we went toward the back wall.

“Me first,” Cheater said, rushing to the ladder.

“Sssshhhh,” I warned. “Someone will hear us.”

“Who cares?” Torchie asked. “We’re the champs.”

“Champs!” Lucky shouted.

“Alters forever!” I yelled.

We all rushed at the ladder and started wrestling, getting wet and
white and half frozen in the remaining snow. We ended up in a laughing, hitting tangle, with nobody trying seriously to go back up to Lucky’s room. Finally, we all collapsed on the ground.

“We’d better get back inside,” I said when I’d caught my breath.

“Winners first,” Flinch said, pointing to Trash.

Trash shook his head. “No, that’s okay. You take the lead, my man.”

Flinch smiled, got up from the ground, shoved his trophy under his belt, and grabbed the ladder. He was more than halfway up the side of the building when he froze. An instant later, I froze, too, as I saw a head pop out from Lucky’s window high above us.

“Look what we have here,” Bloodbath said, his grin gleaming in the moonlight like a dagger of ice.

NEWSPAPER ADS IN MR. LANGHORN’S DESK DRAWER

A DECLARATION OF WAR

T
he most awful part for me, standing on the ground, was watching Flinch as he tried to scramble down the ladder. I knew he must have seen what was going to happen before it happened. But there was nothing he could do. He was too far up.

“Have a nice trip,” Bloodbath called. He leaned back and lifted his foot.

A loud snap shot through the winter silence. My stomach lurched as I realized Bloodbath had broken the stick that held the ladder in the window. Unlike when Cheater had broken the branch, this wasn’t a harmless trick. The ropes, stretched tight a moment before, turned limp and useless. Flinch fell. The fall seemed to take forever, but for that whole dreadful stretch of nightmare time, I couldn’t move. In my mind, I tried frantically to think of some way to help, to catch Flinch or break his fall. In front of my eyes, he tumbled away from the wall, his hands out in front of him like someone trying to hold off a monster. But the monster was the Earth. And nothing he did could hold it off.

The sound Flinch made when he hit was hardly more than a dull thump, muffled by the snow. But it jolted through me from my groin straight up to my guts.

We rushed over.

Flinch was sprawled on the ground. Oh man—he looked like a football player who’d just been hit so hard you knew he wasn’t getting up.
I knelt next to him, but I had no idea what to do.

Torchie reached out and touched Flinch’s shoulder. “Flinch. Hey. You okay?”

There was a faint sound. Crazy as the thought was, it reminded me of a chicken clucking. I listened more closely and realized it was Flinch, swearing quietly, saying the same word over and over.

“Flinch?” I asked.

He turned his head toward me. “Hurts …”

“Don’t move,” Torchie told him.

Flinch shook his head. “Freezing …” He reached out with his left hand. I grabbed it and held still, letting him raise himself. I was afraid I’d hurt him if I pulled. Flinch staggered to his feet, pieces of the broken trophy falling from his belt. His right arm dangled at his side, the hand twisted at an angle I didn’t want to think about.

I looked up at the window. “We’ve got to get you taken care of.”

“Don’t want you in trouble …” Flinch said, gritting out the words through what must have been a terrible amount of pain. “They find out … no more trips …”

“Don’t worry about it.” I helped him walk around the building. Torchie went to grab the ladder, then caught up with us.

Trash tried to open the front door. It was locked. There was no way we could get in without waking somebody.

“We have to knock,” I said.

Trash shook his head. He stood there for a moment with his fists clenched. I heard a soft click. Then Trash reached up again and opened the door.

We got Flinch inside and up to the second floor. “Lie here,” I told him. “I’ll say you fell down the steps going to the bathroom. The rest of you get back upstairs.”

Flinch nodded, then gasped something.

“What?” I asked, leaning closer to him.

“Snow,” he said, pointing to my pants.

I brushed myself off, then got as much snow off Flinch as I could without hurting him. I was about to go for help when Flinch spoke again.

“Jackets,” he said.

“What?” I asked. Then I realized what he meant. I took off my jacket, then helped him with his. As careful as I was, I knew I hurt him when I slipped his right arm out of the sleeve. I tossed the jackets up toward the top of the steps. Then I rushed to see who had night duty.

It was Mr. Briggs. Before he could start thinking I’d come by for company, counseling, or a pleasant conversation, I told him, “Flinch fell down the stairs.”

As soon as Mr. Briggs saw Flinch he said, “I’d better stay with him. Go back to my room and call an ambulance.” He knelt next to Flinch, put a hand on his shoulder, and told him, “Hang in there … .”

When I got back from Mr. Briggs’s room, I saw Lucky watching from the top of the steps. He ducked away when the men came with the stretcher.

After they took Flinch to the hospital, I went back to the room to tell the others what had happened. None of the rest of us could sleep. We sat in the room and waited. All of us were pretty wound up, but Lucky was the worst. He kept pacing back and forth. The way he acted reminded me of my dad every time he tried to quit smoking. After about an hour of pacing, Lucky dashed out of the room.

“What’s up with him?” Torchie asked.

“No idea,” I said. Though I had a suspicion.

Lucky returned a couple minutes later. He stopped pacing, but he looked really strange. Nobody asked him what was going on. Nobody said much of anything.

Early the next morning, Flinch got back from the hospital. His arm was in a cast.

“Broken?” I asked.

He nodded.

“This is war,” Lucky said.

“Yeah,” I agreed with him. “It’s time to pay Bloodbath back.”

“How?” Torchie asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But sooner or later, we’ll get a chance.”

That chance came sooner than I’d expected.