Michael Vey

by Richard Paul Evans

  “It’s better to be lucky than good.”

  He looked at me for a moment, then laughed. “You’re all right, little dude.”

  “Hi,” Ostin said.

  “Hey, what’s up, Houston?”

  “Nothing,” Ostin said, trying to sound cool. “Just hanging.”

  “Houston, we have a problem,” Drew said, then burst out laughing at himself.

  Just then a mountain of flesh named Corky walked up behind Drew. Corky was the size of a small planet and had an entourage of girls who moved around him like satellites. I knew who Corky was only because he was always being called up onstage at the school assemblies for winning some award or another. The last thing he’d won was the State Heavyweight Wrestling Championship. He took Drew in a choke hold, then released him. “Drew-meister, what gives?”

  “Just hanging around the oasis with my little black-belt friend.”

  Corky looked me over. My head barely came to his chest. “This isn’t the guy you were talking about.”

  “He’s the man,” Drew said. “Little Chuck Norris.”

  “He’s a shrimp.”

  “Only on the outside,” Drew said. “On the inside he’s a powder keg of pain, just waiting to explode on someone.”

  Corky laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? I could crush him like a bug.”

  “I’d like to see that,” said Drew. “Battle of the Titans.”

  Corky pointed a massive finger at me. “You’re talking about the little guy?”

  Drew put his arm around me. “This is exactly who I am talking about.”

  He looked at me incredulously. “C’mon, little guy,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “Let’s go outside and spar a little. I want to see what you got.”

  Drew laughed. “He’ll mess you up, dude. I’m not kidding.”

  “I’ve got to see this,” one of the girls said.

  “I really can’t. I’ve got to get Taylor a drink,” I said.

  “She won’t die of thirst,” Corky said. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you. We’re just playing around.”

  Just then Taylor walked up. “Hi, guys. Hi, Cork.” She looked around. “What’s going on?”

  “Corky wants to engage the little dude in hand-to-hand,” Drew said. “Called him out.”

  Taylor looked at me, then back at Drew. “What?”

  Ostin translated. “He heard about Michael’s fight with Jack and he wants to see what Michael can do.”

  “Black belt or not, I’m going to crush him,” Corky said.

  Taylor glanced over at me with a look that said: How do you get yourself into these things? Then, to my surprise, she said, “Awesome. Let’s do it.” She looked around, then shouted, “Everyone outside! Michael’s going to take down Corky!”

  I couldn’t believe what she was saying. As we walked out amid the river of bodies, I whispered, “Are you trying to get me killed?”

  “Trust me.”

  “That you will get me killed?”

  “No, I’m trying to get you out of this mess.”

  The house emptied as everyone poured out of the house into the backyard. Corky started cracking his knuckles. Ostin grabbed my shoulder. “Dude, you know you can’t use your power.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s going to kill you.”

  “I know.”

  Taylor walked to the front of the crowd as if she were the master of ceremonies. “Okay, so here’s the deal. First one knocked to the ground loses. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” Corky said, bobbing a little.

  “Taylor … ,” I said.

  She reached into her pocket. “And here’s a twenty-dollar bill that says Michael’s going to put Corky on his back. Any takers?”

  Everyone looked at each other, but to my surprise, no one was willing to bet against her. I mean, the guy could wad me up like a piece of paper and shoot me out a straw. Taylor looked at Corky. “C’mon, Corky. You’re going to crush him, right? Where’s your money?”

  He looked at her hesitantly. “I don’t have my wallet …”

  “In fact, let’s make it sweeter. The loser has to wear my skirt to school on Monday.”

  I looked at her. Now I was sure she was trying to get back at me for shocking Tim at the game.

  “… All day,” she continued. “And, he has to carry the other’s books and tie his shoes.”

  To my surprise Corky was suddenly looking very nervous.

  “Come on, Corky,” Taylor said. “He’s half your size. On the other hand, there’s only one of you. The last time I saw him, he had three guys on their backs begging for mercy. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Taylor turned back to face the crowd, who had formed a half circle around them. “Who wants to see Corky wearing my skirt on Monday?”

  A large cheer went up. I noticed that Corky was sweating. “Hey, I was just kidding around. I don’t want to hurt the little guy. Cool?”

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Cool.”

  Just then Drew stepped in. “Arrgh,” he said in his best pirate, “them be fightin’ wards, matie. Wards yu’ll be a regrettin’. Li’l Norris be so tough he can kick the back side ’a yar face.”

  Everyone laughed, which started a barrage of Chuck Norris jokes.

  “Little Norris is so tough, when he does push-ups he doesn’t push himself up. He pushes the earth down.”

  “Little Norris is so tough, he can lead a horse to water and make it drink.”

  “Spiderman owns a pair of Little Norris pajamas.”

  “Little Norris is so tough he can make onions cry.”

  “What’s the matter, Corky?” someone shouted. “Chicken?” Then someone started a chant: “Vey, Vey, Vey.”

  Now Corky couldn’t back out—he’d never live it down. There was no way around it; we were going to spar. It was a classic David and Goliath scenario, except I couldn’t use my slingshot. I was going to get killed.

  Taylor sidled up to me. “That didn’t go the way I thought it would.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “How is this ‘not so bad’?”

  “Well, no one expects you to beat him. So if you lose, you’ll look brave for fighting a monster. And if you somehow win, you’ll be a legend.”

  “I feel much better now,” I said sarcastically.

  She looked at Corky, then back at me. “Wait. I’ve got another idea.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “When I say ‘go,’ run into him as hard as you can and try to knock him down.”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s a freakin’ brick wall.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I did.”

  “Trust me again.”

  “Let’s go!” Corky shouted impatiently. “Let’s get this going.”

  “All right,” Taylor said, stepping away from me. “When I say ‘go,’ come out fighting. Ready …”

  Corky’s eyes narrowed into small slits as he leaned forward on the balls of his feet, squaring off the way he did before a wrestling match. After the razzing Taylor gave him, I don’t think he was going to hold back.

  “Get set …”

  His fists balled up. I swallowed and tried not to look overly terrified—just a little terrified. I was certain he could smell my fear.

  Don’t panic, I told myself.

  “Go!”

  I took off running at him, feeling like a pitched baseball about to be smacked out of the park. Shouting like a madman, I slammed into him with everything I had, my face buried into his very solid abs. To my amazement he stumbled backward and fell, crashing to the ground in an azalea bush.

  “Yeah!” shouted Drew, running to Corky. “I told you, man! Little Norris rules.”

  I lifted myself up. Corky was still on his back, covered in white flower petals and looking dazed. Drew pointed his finger in Corky’s face. “I warned you, don’t mess with the little Norris. The kid’s got sweet moves.�
��

  The truth is, I was more surprised than anyone, including Corky. I put my hand out to lift him up, which he fortunately ignored, since I’d need a car jack to lift him. He slowly climbed to his feet, wiping off his backside. “Good job, kid.”

  Taylor walked up to him. “I’m not letting you wear my skirt,” she said. “You’ll stretch it. But it looks like you’ll be carrying Michael’s books.”

  I waved it off. “No,” I said, “we were just messing around. He could have crushed me like a bug. Thanks for taking it easy on me.”

  Corky, still confused about what had happened, looked at me and nodded. “Hey, no problem. I don’t know where you learned that junk, but you’re pretty good.”

  Drew put his arm around me. “He’s the man. You gotta start hanging out with us, Little Norris.”

  The crowd gathered around me. A pretty girl with long black curly hair walked up to me. I knew her from math class but she had never acknowledged my existence. “Hi, Michael. I’m Chantel. That was so cool,” she said, her brown eyes locked on mine.

  “Thanks.”

  “What school do you go to?”

  “Meridian. I’m in your math class.”

  “Really? I’ve never seen you.”

  “I sit right behind you.”

  “Oh,” she said, blushing a little. “Lucky me.”

  Taylor grabbed my arm. “Come on, Michael.”

  “We’ll catch up later,” I said to her.

  She smiled and waved. “See you in math.”

  Everyone was giving me high-fives and patting me on the back as Taylor dragged me off.

  “Why do I have to go?” I asked.

  “So you don’t get a big head,” Taylor said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Where no one will hear us. Come on, Ostin.”

  “You got my name right,” he said.

  We went back inside. Ostin grabbed another brownie from the table and the three of us went upstairs to a bedroom. Inside, Taylor locked the door behind us.

  “Where’d you learn that move?” Ostin asked. “That was awesome. You took down gorilla-man without your powers.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said. I looked at Taylor. “Was it?”

  She sat down on the bed. “It was sort of you. You did knock him down.”

  Ostin’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “What did she do?”

  “The same thing she did to Mr. Poulsen. She rebooted him. Didn’t you?”

  “What?” Ostin said.

  I looked at Taylor. “Can I tell him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You just did.”

  “Well, you showed him first.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ostin said, looking back and forth between us.

  “Taylor has powers like mine,” I said.

  Ostin’s jaw dropped. “She can shock like you?”

  “Not exactly. She can shock people’s brains.”

  “What?”

  “She can reboot people.”

  I didn’t have to explain “reboot” to Ostin—he was all about computers. “Ah,” he said, a large smile crossing his face. “Like pressing the reset button. I get it. That’s why Poulsen looked like he’d been sucker-punched. I just thought he had a brain tumor or something. Then how did you knock Corky over?”

  “I didn’t, Michael did. I just rebooted him a second before Michael crashed into him. He didn’t even know where he was.”

  “That’s awesome!” Ostin said.

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “She shouldn’t be using her powers in public like that. Someone will figure it out.”

  “I know.” She looked down, covering her eyes with her hands.

  “I need to confess something.” She looked up at me. “But first, you need to promise me that you won’t get mad, okay? I feel bad enough about it.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Promise me.”

  “All right. I promise.”

  “I won the basketball game for us. At least I might have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I rebooted that guy as he was shooting his free throws. That’s why he missed so badly.”

  “That’s just wrong,” Ostin said.

  I looked at her in disbelief. “After what you said to me at the game? What happened to not using our powers in public?”

  “I know. I just didn’t want to lose. I’m such a hypocrite. I, like, ruined that guy’s life.”

  Ostin started pacing. “People, we need to keep this under control. That’s why we need the club, to set standards.” His mouth spread in a broad smile. “And I have a name for our club. The Electroclan.”

  “What’s an Electroclan?” I asked.

  “It’s just a name,” Ostin said. “The electro part is self-evident. A clan is a group of people who all have the same …”

  “I like it,” Taylor said before he finished. “It’s catchy.”

  “I told you he was good at this,” I said.

  I could tell by his crooked smile that Ostin was feeling pretty good about himself. First Taylor had remembered his name, now she liked the name he’d come up with for the club. “Now we need bylaws and a mission statement.”

  “What kind of bylaws?” Taylor asked.

  “Like, for instance, who we can tell about our powers,” Ostin said.

  “Which would be no one,” I said.

  “And when we can use our powers,” Ostin said.

  “That’s easy for you,” Taylor said. “You don’t have powers.”

  “Yes I do. Advanced intellectual powers.”

  “They’re not electric.”

  “You’re wrong. Technically, all thinking is electric. The brain consists of about a hundred billion cells, most of which are neurons whose primary job is shooting electrical impulses down an axon, and—”

  “All right,” I said, “we get it.”

  “So, I’m just as powerful as …” He suddenly looked down, then over at me. “What was I saying?”

  I looked at Taylor and she grinned.

  Ostin turned red. “You rebooted me, didn’t you?”

  “Well, you’re just so powerful.”

  “You can’t do that,” he said. “You don’t know if that damages someone’s brain. It could burn brain cells.”

  “Relax, Ostin,” I said. “You’ve got plenty to burn.” I turned to Taylor. “He’s right, you know. We shouldn’t be using our powers on each other.”

  “I was just fooling around.”

  “All right,” I said. “Rule number one: No using powers against each other.”

  “And we need a mission statement,” Ostin said, though this time not quite as confidently.

  “We need a mission,” I said.

  “I think I have one,” Taylor said, moving closer to me. “To find out why you and I have powers. I’ve discovered something that might be important.”

  I sat down on the bed next to her. “What?”

  “Okay, you were born in California, right?”

  “Pasadena.”

  “Get this … so was I.”

  “Really?”

  “I asked my parents. I was born at Pasadena General Hospital. So I went online and tried to find our birth records. They have the records of births for the last forty-two years. In all that time just eleven days are missing. Guess which days.”

  “Our birthdays?” I ventured.

  “Exactly,” Taylor said.

  “That’s weird,” I said.

  “Statistically, an improbability,” Ostin said. “You two born at the same hospital nearly the same day with the similar mutant variation.”

  “Mutant variation?” I said.

  “For lack of a better term.”

  “Find a better term,” Taylor said. “I like power.”

  “Clearly,” Ostin said, loud enough for us to hear.

  “I mean the word power. We have similar powers.” She looked at Ostin. “I’m not a mutant.”

  “T
echnically,” Ostin said, “you are.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re a geek.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a mutant.”

  “If you say that again I’m going to reboot you.”

  I stood up. “Stop it, you two. Ostin, quit calling us mutants or I’ll shock you.”

  He blanched.

  “Why would the records be hidden?” I asked.

  “Same reason I hide my diary from my mother,” Taylor said.

  “Because you’d get in trouble if she found it,” I said. I smiled at Taylor. “I think you’re onto something.”

  “Except we’ve hit a dead end,” she said. “The records are gone.”

  “There’s more than one way to skin the proverbial cat,” Ostin said, still sounding a little abused. “The county recorder’s office will have vital statistics for …”

  “Can you even speak English?” Taylor said.

  “Excuse me. The government has records of all the deaths and births during that time period even if the hospital doesn’t.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “So we just look up those births and see where they lead.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ostin said. “I’ll look them up and analyze them for our next club meeting. When should we meet again?”

  “You have your birthday party tomorrow,” Taylor said, “and I have mine on Sunday. Monday I have cheerleading practice. How about Tuesday?”

  “Works for me,” Ostin said. The only thing Ostin ever had on his calendar was clogging and the Discovery Channel.

  “Good with me,” I said. “Then the first meeting of the Electroclan is hereby adjourned until next Tuesday.”

  “Good,” Ostin said. “I hope there’s some of those brownies left.”

  The three of us walked back downstairs. I glanced at my watch. It was around ten thirty. I said to Taylor, “I need to call my mom for a ride home.”

  “Don’t you have a phone?” she asked.

  I felt embarrassed. “No. Things are kind of tight right now.”

  “You can use my cell phone,” she said. She flipped it open and handed it to me. I pushed the buttons, but the screen kept dissolving into static. “What’s wrong with your phone?”

  She looked at it. “I don’t know, nothing was wrong with it earlier. Let me try it.” I handed it back. She pushed a few buttons. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s you.”

  “Maybe you better dial.”

  “What’s your number?”