The Sovreign Era (Book 1): Brave Men Run

by Selznick, Matthew Wayne

  “What happened?”

  “Some kind of accident at his work. Closed-casket bad.”

  “What did he do?”

  “I think he was, like, a researcher, or something, y’know? Industrial stuff. I think.”

  “So you never even knew him?”

  “Nope.” It made me think about someone who did, though. Why had I never heard of Denver Colorado before Thursday, if he was such a good friend of my mom and dad’s way back when? It reminded me there were some things I wanted to ask my mother. I figured I would wait until this whole Sovereign thing died down a little.

  “Wow. I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged. “Thanks. It’s not really a big deal, though. I mean, I never knew what I was missing, you know? It’s always just been me and my mom.” I turned to face her. “What about your folks?”

  “My dad’s into politics.” Lina made a face. “He’s on the city council. My mother’s, like, your basic society wife – she does volunteer work, takes care of my little brother, and hangs on my dad’s arm at dinners and stuff.”

  “You get along okay with them?”

  “I guess.” She reached up and pulled a lock of her hair to her mouth. It was just long enough for her to nibble if she twisted the side of her mouth. Apparently this was contemplative Lina, and I added it to the growing list of things she did that made me weak.

  “See, the thing is,” she said, “I love my dad and all, and we’re more or less okay... we’ve been worse, that’s for sure... but I don’t exactly fit in with his plans. Y’know. A dad’s idea of what his daughter should do with her life.”

  I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, so this impressed me. “What’s that?”

  She smiled, tilted her head down, and looked at me through her lashes. “I want to be an artist.” She shook her head. “I am an artist.”

  “Wow. Like what kind of stuff?”

  “Whatever,” she said. “I mean, it depends, y’know? I paint, I sketch, I do little clay thingies… whatever it’s supposed to be.”

  “I can’t wait to see something.”

  She grinned. “Be patient, Nathan. I’ll ask you up to see my etchings. One day.”

  I ran a hand across my face to cover my blushing, and laughed. “So, why’s your dad got a problem with it?”

  “It’s not stable enough, I guess.” She pouted. “He’d rather I go into law, or business, or something.”

  “Well, it’s your choice, yeah?”

  “Exactly! But he won’t pay for college unless I’m doing something he approves of.”

  “Do you have to go to college to be an artist?”

  She nodded and smiled. “You sound like Car. You’re right, I guess. I mean, I can go all punk rock and stuff, but I know I’d learn something if I went, too.”

  “Who’s Car?”

  “Oh, Carson and I have known each other since we were little kids. He’s got this band, Jesus Horse.”

  I fought a little tinge of possessiveness. This stretched into a moment or two of silence. She misinterpreted it, but that was okay – I didn’t really want to be jealous.

  “So.” She gave me a toothy smile and poked me in the shoulder with a slender index finger. “Are you waiting for me to ask about all your, like, glowing eyes and stuff?”

  She seemed so open, so willing to hear whatever it was I would lay on her, I actually felt a kind of weight coming off of me. I sighed to expel the last of it.

  “Yeah, okay.” She took my hand. It was warm.

  I sighed again, and smiled. “Okay. I’m just gonna, like, list stuff off, okay?”

  “Yep.”

  I held up my free hand and counted. “I’ve got really sensitive hearing, and sense of smell, and eyesight. I can see in anything but, like, pitch black darkness. I’m stronger than I look – my bones are denser than normal, and my muscles, too.”

  “You’re out of fingers.” She tugged to free her hand, but I held on. That made her smile and look away for a second. When she brought her gaze back to me, her eyes were bright. “What else?”

  “Well, um, that’s it, pretty much.” I shrugged. “Except that I pay for all of that with a really fast metabolism – I eat like a freakin’ horse, and I burn it pretty fast. I crash when I can’t fuel up, especially after I’ve done anything strenuous.”

  She squeezed my hand. “And strenuous for you is, like, a major workout for me?”

  “I guess. Maybe?”

  She stared at me. Her smile never broke, and never got cold.

  “You are full of surprises, Mister Charters.”

  “Heh. Yeah.” I looked at our interwoven fingers. “I was pretty worried you’d be freaked out, with all this Sovereign stuff going on.”

  “You think you’re a Sovereign?”

  How could she be taking this all so easily? I was scared to look at her, but I needed to see her face.

  “Would it matter?”

  “Nope.”

  Her other hand slipped behind my neck.

  She kissed me.

  I was nearly overwhelmed. Her tongue was smoother than I thought it would be. Then my heightened senses, combined with all those churning teen-aged hormones, sent me down a laser-sharp point that drew everything I was into our kiss.

  I don’t know how long it lasted. We finally pulled apart, and the look of wide-eyed amazement on her face was surely just like mine. We went at it again. Our teeth clanged. We didn’t care.

  This went on for a while.

  Finally, getting a decent breath became just barely more important than the demands of our libidos. We sat forehead to forehead, twisted in the front seats of her little car.

  She was almost panting. “I think… I think…”

  “What?” I was trying to relax, to cool it, but everything about her seemed luminous and white. The stew of our pheromones in the close air made me giddy. “What?”

  Very gently, she pulled away from me and we sank into our respective seats. Her face was flushed. She closed her eyes and smiled, lazy and wide. “I think we’d better go back to talking for a few minutes.” She rolled down the window, which helped clear the air and my mind.

  “Yeah, maybe.” I laughed, a little astounded. “Hey, Lina.”

  “Yes?”

  “You, uh, you really know how to kiss.” I almost added, as far as I knew.

  She shook her head and pushed strands of hair off her face with a languid sweep of her hand. “Right back at you, hon.” She giggled. “Man….”

  “So... um... that was all right?”

  She gave me another wide-eyed look. “Nate… you… you don’t even know.”

  The fact of the matter was that I didn’t. “Tell me.”

  She laughed, looked out the window, then at her lap. She crossed and uncrossed her legs in the cramped space below the steering wheel, then settled on curling them underneath.

  “Let’s just say…” The way she looked at me, with this mix of patience and, shock, I guess – I’d never seen that expression on any other person, exactly. “Let’s just say I knew you’d be great. You’ve got all this intensity around you. I figured you’d be a great kisser. But….”

  “But what?”

  She ran a light finger down my cheek. “Let’s just say you exceeded my expectations, okay?”

  I laughed. I was pretty happy with myself, but especially with us. “Well, that’s good, right?”

  “Like I said, you don’t even know.”

  We spent a few eternities just gazing into each other’s eyes. She leaned forward and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. It was different than before. Our first kiss – my first kiss – had been like a hot wire. This was like a warm wave, or rain on a summer day. It was less physically intense and more… emotional.

  That kiss filled me up.

  She swept a hand down my face and cupped my jaw. “Time to get you home.”

  I understood. The evening was more than complete.

  “I hate to admit it, but things are catching up
with me. Popcorn burns fast.”

  She winked with wicked delight. “Well, at least I know it’s not me that’s putting you to sleep.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “That’s for sure.”

  She started the car, and we drove in silence down the hill to my house. I spent a lot of time looking at her. She finally caught me, and fended off my adoration with an exasperated, “What…?” toned with a broad, bright smile.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fourteen

  We pulled into my driveway.

  “So. Nathan. Thanks for the movie.”

  “Now who’s got the goofy grin?”

  We laughed, and kissed again. This time, it was somewhere between the laser beam and the warm rain. I was learning about a whole catalog of variations.

  “I want to see you again,” she whispered. “In case it isn’t obvious.”

  “Heh. I don’t see any problem with that.”

  “Soon.”

  “Yes. Soon.”

  She gave me a quick smooch and playfully pushed me away. “Call me tomorrow. Let me know how your big showdown goes.”

  The cloud I was floating on suddenly dipped a couple of feet. “Man, I’d forgotten all about that.”

  “I have that effect on men.”

  “Totally.” I opened the car door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “G’night, Nathan.”

  I got out of the car and stood in the driveway until her car was out of sight.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Fifteen

  Sunday morning, I slept in until my mother made enough noise around the house to wake me. I got out of bed and threw some water on my face.

  The bathroom mirror showed me I was smiling.

  “You have a girlfriend,” I told my reflection. It grinned back at me.

  I did a little dance on the bathroom rug.

  I also had, I remembered, an appointment.

  A knot of tension tightened my stomach, but it didn’t last. I had a girlfriend, an older girlfriend, who thought my eyes were beautiful and liked the way I kissed. Byron Teslowski just couldn’t stand up to that.

  I allowed myself one more look at confident me in the mirror before I went into the kitchen.

  My mother was dressed for work. “You must have had a good time last night.”

  I stuck my head into the refrigerator and started gathering breakfast to hide the color rising in my face. “Sure.”

  “‘Sure?’ That’s it?”

  I moved five eggs to the kitchen counter and crouched down to get a pan. “C’mon, mom.”

  “Well, I mean, this was your very first official date with a girl, wasn’t it? A mother has a right to be curious.”

  “We had a good time, I guess.”

  I could practically feel her smiling behind me. “You must have; you’ve barely looked at me since you woke up.”

  At least she wasn’t asking me about Sovereign stuff. “It was a good movie.”

  “And good company, apparently.” She slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. “I’ve got a minute or two. Tell me about this girl.”

  I tried to clamp down on my smile and settled on subduing it a little before I turned around. “She’s an artist.”

  She nodded. Her own smile was sly, and her eyes were bright with amusement. “That’s interesting. What do her parents do?”

  “Um, I think her dad’s a politician. Her mom does, like, community work.”

  “Grant Porter is her father?” My mother raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know why I didn’t make that connection.”

  “You know him?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve seen him at Chamber of Commerce meetings.”

  “Oh.” I dropped some butter in the pan and swirled it around.

  “Nathan.”

  “Huh?”

  “Did anything happen last night?”

  There was no stopping my blushing now. I frantically tried to get the sensation of kissing Lina out of my head, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  My mother narrowed her eyes and her lips tilted. “That’s not what I meant – but I can see something did. We’ll talk about that in a minute.”

  Crap.

  “Did anything happen because of the Sovereign story,” she clarified.

  Did Byron Teslowski’s freaky behavior count? I decided that wasn’t something she needed to know.

  “No. Everything was cool.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I clicked my tongue. “Mom, I’m so sure. Nobody gave me anything more than the usual second glance.” I broke the eggs into the melted butter.

  “As far as you know,” she said, but she stood up and looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go. What are you doing today?”

  Cover story time. It’s nice to have at least one member of the family who can’t literally smell a lie. “I was gonna ride my bike up to Mel’s, probably. Just hang out.”

  “All right. I should be back in time to figure out dinner. See you at six, all right? Maybe then you can tell me the other details of your date, Casanova.”

  “Okay.”

  She kissed me on the cheek and messed my hair until it was all going the wrong way, which bothers me to no end. I scowled and put it back, which only made her smile.

  “Behave yourself.” She gathered up her work stuff, and left.

  I finished making breakfast and set to fueling up. Lina was still on my mind, but somehow my mother had drained some of my confidence. She treated my whole thing with Lina like it was all just so cute.

  Made me feel like a kid. Which is exactly how I felt every time Byron Teslowski tried shit with me: like I was ten years old.

  I finished breakfast quickly, cleaned up, and remembered I told Mel I would call him today.

  He answered quickly.

  “Hey, Nate!”

  “Hey.”

  “So?”

  “So, what, Mel?” I laughed at how it was okay for Mel to dig at me about Lina, but not my mother. He had best friend privileges.

  “So, how was The Breakfast Club?”

  I knew Mel wasn’t interested in the movie, so much.

  “Really, really great,” I said, and laughed again.

  He chuckled. “Cool. You guys hit it off, then?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  The interest in Mel’s tone ratcheted up. “No kidding?”

  The face-stretching smile was back, and I knew he could hear it in my voice. “We drove up near Kane Park for a while, after.”

  “I see!” Mel didn’t have a girlfriend, at least right now. He was working on one of Claire’s friends.

  “Yeah.” I took a second to relive it. “She’s pretty fucking awesome, Mel.”

  “Thought so.”

  “One weird thing, though.”

  “What.”

  I told him about Teslowski, and my pending meeting with him.

  “Um, are you sure it’s a good idea to go up there by yourself?”

  “Mel, this is me.”

  Mel snorted. “And by that, you mean the kid Teslowski has tortured for the last, I dunno, forever?”

  Episodes from that history flashed in my mind, and my stomach clenched until those ugly memories were replaced by William Donner floating above the television cameras.

  “By that,” I said, “I mean the kid who could kick his ass if he wanted to.”

  I almost believed it.

  Mel said, “It’s about time. You want me to come up there, anyway?”

  I shook my head. “No, thanks, man. I don’t even think it’s gonna be that kind of thing. I’ll come by your place after, fill you in.”

  “Okay. Later.”

  “Late.”

  I hung up the phone. I needed to take a shower, have some fruit, and then it would be time to go.

  From The Journal Of Nate Charters – Sixteen

  I got to Romita Park about twenty minutes before two. I rode my bike up and down the winding concrete paths, past the
three little playgrounds and the picnic tables. No one else was there.

  Romita Park bordered the playground field of Romita Elementary, with a little hillock between them. I sat on my bike and spent some time looking at the school’s softball backstop; thought about climbing all the way to the top to get my backpack, years ago.

  For five years, Byron Teslowski had picked on me, stolen my friends, and destroyed my reputation. A third of my life! I was surprised I wasn’t more nervous that we’d be meeting, alone, in a few minutes, but after last night, and Lina, it was hard to be anything other than wildly confident – especially since Teslowski had acted so weird.

  I rode back to the middle of the park and leaned my bike against a picnic table. I leapt on top of the picnic table with the same effort most folks use to step onto a curb, and smiled. I knew I was strong. The only reason people like Byron could keep me down was my own stupid lack of confidence. I hated having attention drawn to me, hated the way people looked at me, hated being called a freak.

  Lina put a whole new perspective on that. Lina, and William Donner.

  Let Teslowski try something. Let him.

  I smelled his cologne and saw him coming up the steps from the street. I debated walking to meet him, and decided he could come to me.

  He wore his regular uniform: tight blue jeans, a pale blue Polo shirt, and his Varsity jacket. His blonde spiky hair was tucked under an Anaheim Angels baseball cap. He saw me and walked over, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

  “Hey,” he said.

  I looked down at him from on top of the picnic table. “Hey.”

  “What’re you doing, standing up there?”

  I squatted down. “Nothing.” He probably thought I looked like an idiot up there, and I knew I probably looked like one. “So. What did you want, anyway?”

  He looked to his right, toward the school. “Just talk, I guess.”

  “What about?” I couldn’t stop thinking about the backstop, the name calling, the milk bombs, and all the other times this jock had humiliated me. I was losing my patience.

  “Well,” he squinted up at me. “You know that stuff that’s been on TV…”

  “Who doesn’t? What about it?”

  “‘Sovereign,’” he said. “You think that’s you?”