Union

by John Darryl Winston

  Naz knew it always did.

  On the way home, Naz thought one more time about what he had heard in The Union Press, a mingle of thoughts from him, D, and John. He didn’t know whose were whose then, and it was even hazier now—love, laughter, hate, Delilah, Meri, John. Then, he resolved to take Harvis’ and D’s advice. He decided to put the painful ordeal out of his mind forever.

  Things went back to normal. Naz scrimmaged every day after school with Fears’ varsity, and D became the quintessential photojournalist, always ready with her camera and a keen eye. She took pictures of any and everything, and Naz’s curiosity was piqued as to what she was planning for the inaugural issue of The Union Press. Just the same, he steered clear of the third floor altogether.

  Naz had fallen into a routine, a balanced routine tempered by a new drug: love. But he never said the word out loud, not to anyone. He didn’t dare. When Dr. Gwen mentioned he had fallen for D in one of their Friday sessions, Naz denied it vehemently, although the designation, boyfriend and girlfriend sat comfortably with him.

  On the days that D was irritable, complaining about John being a perfectionist, never being satisfied, Naz just listened and nodded, resisting the urge to be judgmental or solve what he knew was her temporary reality. On those rare days, he played some of their favorite music from his phone, or they watched an agreed upon classic at MeeChi’s.

  It took D more than three weeks from the inception of her idea to bring her story for the first issue of The Union Press to fruition. Naz received a text from D as he and Harvis talked at their locker.

  “She says it’s finished.” Naz put his phone back in his pocket. “Finally.”

  “Wait ’til you see it.”

  “You saw it?”

  Harvis nodded.

  “How come I’m the only one that hasn’t seen it?”

  “Nobody’s seen it yet … except maybe Soul, Pharaoh, Dr. Gwen, and John. It’s just a proof, hasn’t been published yet … and ’cause she wants to surprise you.”

  “Nobody? It doesn’t sound like nobody to me, and I don’t like surprises.”

  “I know, but your gonna love this. She and John did a good job. It blows away anything the IA chronicles ever did.”

  “You wanna spar this weekend?” Naz punched Harvis in the shoulder.

  “Ouch! Yeah, if it doesn’t rain. We have to go outside. Coach knew we knocked his new bike off the wall … you and your wild kicks.”

  “Soul still wants to spar with us?”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know how to pull his punches. How do you think I got that welt under my eye?”

  Naz laughed. “Where’s he now?”

  “After practice, he left with Pharaoh.”

  “Pharaoh’s a good guy?”

  “He’s OK.”

  D came running down the hall with a paper in her hand. John walked briskly behind her. When she got to Naz, she pushed her glasses up and gave him the paper expectantly. He smiled at her.

  “Look at it,” she squealed. “It’s just the cover page, but …”

  He read:

  THE UNION PRESS

  High School Newspaper

  Volume I, Issue I Editor in Chief

  Union High School John Cornelius Hornbuckle

  Published monthly Edition: February

  The headlines read:

  Union: A Bully-Free Zone?

  The main picture had students on one side of the hallway: honors students, students from the glee club, band, and chess club opposite known bullies who stood, cowering on the other side. Soul, Pharaoh, and Ham stood in front of the students against the bullies. And though Naz had been a little too busy to know who the bullies were, he did recognize two faces he hadn’t seen since Lincoln; Dill and Denali—up to their old ways and paying the price as usual. Naz nodded.

  The caption under the main picture read:

  Senior, Pharaoh Wiggins and Freshmen, Soulomon Bender and Hector Martinez lead the student body against bullying. Photo by Delilah Dinwiddie.

  One of the two smaller pictures showed Harvis standing between two boys, one much larger than the other. Harvis had turned his head away, obscuring his face, but it was unmistakably him. The other photo had a smaller headline that read, “Dreadnaughts Nab Nine Straight” and showed Fears in a suit and tie yelling at one of his players during a game. All the photos were credited to D.

  Naz grinned at D. “So this is what you’ve been up to.”

  She nodded.

  Naz read more of the article. “This is really good, John.”

  “Thanks, Naz, but technically, the pictures tell the story. I just filled in the blanks. I told you she’s talented, fabulous. She definitely has the gift.”

  Technically!? Ugh! Why does he keep saying that word? Is he even using it right?

  D folded her arms and put her head down, her olive cheeks darkening a bit.

  “Don’t be bashful, girl. Let your little light shine.” John lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

  Naz caught Harvis out of the corner of his eye, clenched his jaw and fists, and manufactured a fake smile.

  “Harvis … I mean, Wordsmith?” John pulled out his phone.

  Harvis, slightly distracted from John’s gesture to D and Naz’s reaction, looked at John.

  “I’d love for you to write something, one of your pieces, about the Exclave maybe, for the next issue. Think we can exchange numbers?”

  Harvis nodded and pulled out his phone while Naz pretended he was still reading the proof.

  There was an awkward silence while Harvis and John exchanged numbers.

  “So you like it?” D came around to stand next to Naz.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look at the time,” said John. “My mother’s taking me out to dinner … right about now, and we wouldn’t wanna keep the good doctor waiting. Harvis, give me a call when you got something, something edgy, but not too raw,” he finished, walking away.

  Harvis nodded.

  Naz’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Harvis.

  LET IT GO!

  He nodded, but one last thought nipped at him—Cornelius?

  The newspaper was a huge success, requiring a second run and more printing supplies to satisfy its hungry readership. John and D received accolades over the school intercom, and the two, along with Soul, Ham, and Pharaoh also received certificates at an assembly held in their honor. Per Harvis’ advice, Naz swallowed his anger that day, and although D pressed him about what she clearly saw as an attitude, he insisted nothing was wrong, and the situation eventually died down to nothing.

  Spring came quietly with no fanfare. John had published a second issue of The Union Press, complete with Harvis’ contribution. Fears’ Dreadnaughts had finished second in their conference with Fears receiving Coach of the Year award and several of his players, including Pharaoh, making the all-conference team. He was looking forward to coaching his young fab five again the following year.

  But today brought something special for Naz, and he was up early. The way he couldn’t sleep, you would’ve thought it was his birthday, but it was D’s, her fifteenth to be exact. Naz wanted to get her something special for their first birthday together.

  Mr. Tesla had suggested Naz keep it simple and give her flowers. He had even acquired an arrangement for Naz to take with him on this not-so-typical day of school. As he walked to D’s house, he didn’t anticipate the stares, jeers, and comments, both positive and negative, he received on his journey. One lady said. “Aw … he’s in love.” Naz couldn’t tell if the woman was being kind or mocking him. Just the same, he walked with his head high and paid the attention no mind.

  When Naz reached D’s house, something was different. She always met him before he even reached the walkway leading to her steps, but she was not there to greet him as usual. No matter, today was as good a day as any to meet her parents up close and personal. He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell.
>
  D opened the door immediately and stuck her head out. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Uh, picking you up for—”

  Before he could finish, she was pulled back inside, and the door swung open wide.

  “Daddy, I’m gonna to be late for school,” D said.

  Naz decided to stick his head inside.

  D was standing in front of her father.

  “It’s your birthday, sweetie. You don’t have to go to school today.” He held her wrist.

  “It doesn’t matter, Daddy; I still have to go to school.”

  D’s father wore sagging faded jeans and a tight off-white tank top that barely contained his beer-belly. His hair was disheveled and his skin burnt red by the sun. He hadn’t shaved in days and reeked something awful. Naz didn’t need to see any more to know D was in trouble. He looked around the room and found a table, which held a lamp, and set down the flowers. With his hand out he hurried over to the man.

  “Hello, Mr. Dinwiddie. I’m Naz Andersen, so nice to finally meet you.”

  He looked at Naz. “Naz … what kind of name is that? I didn’t—”

  “Actually, my name is Igod. Naz is just a nickname I gave myself. It’s from the Bible, short for Nazarite.” Naz tried to distract Mr. Dinwiddie. He didn’t have a plan beyond that, but he figured if he could keep talking, he could get D out of the house without incident. “Samson, the strongest man in the Bible, was a Nazarite. D … I mean Delilah and I thought that was ironic, that—”

  “Shut up!” Mr. Dinwiddie wiped at his chest repeatedly with his free hand as if something was on it, something he couldn’t get off. “I didn’t invite you into my home.” Spit flew from his mouth.

  “We were just leaving, sir.” Naz grabbed D’s hand.

  “Let her go!” D’s father snatched her away from Naz and moved to another part of the room. “Get out!” Instead of pointing to the front door, he pointed to the kitchen door.

  “Daddy, don’t! You’re drunk!” She made a failed attempt to free herself of his grasp, and Naz had a flashback of his mother and Bearn.

  Diplomacy had failed. Naz willed a part of himself alive that he had kept in check since moving back to the Exclave.

  “Don’t say that, baby,” the man said calmly, still holding her by the wrist.

  D looked at Naz, her eyes sad. “My Momma didn’t come home last night.”

  “How dare you talk about your mother like that. She’s twice the woman you … or your good for nothin’ sister will ever be.”

  Mr. Dinwiddie raised his fist up and back in retaliation for her impudence. D recoiled and closed her eyes. Naz closed his. There was no impact.

  An unseen force held her father’s hand at bay. He could not move it forward or back.

  Naz opened his eyes to find D staring at him, awestruck. Naz had one hand near his head, palm open, facing them and the other hand in a fist at his side. When Naz slowly opened the hand at his side, D watched as her father slowly released his grip on her wrist. She looked at her wrist and then at her father. He said nothing but stood still as a statue, sweating and shaking, his eyes locked on hers in some kind of perverted pain.

  “D,” Naz called.

  When she looked at Naz again, he was standing calm and composed.

  “Let’s go,” he finished.

  She looked back at her father, who seemed frozen in time, and slowly walked away. Naz held out his hand. She took it, and he led her out the door. He turned around one last time but resisted the urge to threaten her father. He trusted his handiwork spoke volumes.

  They walked hand-in-hand for almost a minute, no words between them.

  “Where’s your glasses?” asked Naz.

  “Naz.” She stopped him. “Did you do that … all of that with my father? Did you … hypnotize him … cast some demonic spell on him?”

  “No … but I did stop him from hitting you. I’ll never let anyone … hurt you.” He started walking again without her.

  “So, what did you do?” She caught up with him and took his hand.

  He stopped her. “Do you remember what I told you … about how my mom died?”

  “Of course … your stepdad, too … that it was a freak accident. It was the first day I ever saw you cry … and the last. It made me feel closer to you, that you would trust me with your pain.”

  “Well, there was more to it.”

  “I figured there was, and that you would tell me one day.” She stopped him, grabbed both his hands, stood on her toes and kissed his lips. “I’m listening.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.” He looked past her as he replayed the scene that had occurred that day in his head. “Meri always thought it was her fault, but it was my fault she died that day. I could’ve saved her, stopped what he was doing, but I didn’t. I’ll never let anything like that happen again.” He wrapped a piece of his hair around his finger.

  “Naz, what happened?”

  “‘He’ … was drunk. I didn’t know it then, but I know now, and he was beating her … mercilessly.”

  “Naz, you were only eleven years old.”

  “That monster threw her through a glass table, and I sat there watching.”

  D put her arms around his waist and embraced him.

  “She died that day … so I killed him.”

  D looked back down the street at her house.

  “I didn’t hurt ’im, D. I let ’im go as soon as we left.”

  “What do you mean you let him go?” She slowly stepped back and folded her arms.

  “I … released him, and I didn’t hurt him.”

  “I don’t believe it.” She started walking again.

  Worried he had scared her, he shook off his emotions and caught up to her. “I promise … I didn’t hurt him.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t believe you can do that … control people like that.”

  “It’s not like that. I don’t control people … not like you’re saying. I just held him. Watch this.”

  He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and spun it in the air so that when it landed, it continued to spin on the ground like a top. He put his palm over it, causing the coin to slowly rise as if suspended by an invisible string, still spinning, nonstop. D put her hand over her mouth. Naz used his other hand to stop the coin without touching it. Then he made a flicking motion with his fingers to start the coin spinning the other way.

  “So … it’s magic. You’re a magician?”

  “No, my dad was a magician, well, illusionist.”

  “I thought you said he was a scientist.”

  “He was both.” Naz grabbed the spinning quarter and put it back in his pocket.

  D grabbed Naz’s hand, and they walked in silence. She was apparently in deep thought, but Naz refused to invade her privacy. He had to get the desire to read her thoughts at times like these under control, and now was as good a time as any to practice.

  When Naz tried to turn the corner in the direction of Union, D pulled him back the other way.

  “Where we goin’?” asked Naz.

  “Not to school, not after all this.”

  “But where? Are we skipping?”

  “More than skipping … let’s run away.” She let go of his hand and ran down the street.

  Naz followed, and by the time he caught up to her, he had a pretty good idea where she was headed: the Helix.

  They got in the long, fast-moving line, boarded the packed, elevated train and headed downtown. They stood, each holding on to a separate hand-strap that hung from the ceiling, but sharing the same silver pole that extended the train from top to bottom. They stood face-to-face in a stare down, and before Naz would lose, as usual, he noticed the two marks on the bridge of her nose.

  “What happened to your glasses?” he asked again.

  “I’m not sure.” She put her head down. “They were sliding down my nose, and I was about to push them up. I think they flew off when my dad pu
lled me away from you.”

  Naz recoiled from the thought of what had just happened. He gripped the pole tighter. She covered his hand with her own.

  “Maybe they fell off when my hero whisked me away … thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Does that happen a lot?”

  “What, my glasses falling off or my hero whisking me away?” She put her hand on her hip.

  “Neither. Your dad?”

  She squinted, looking out the window as the train passed through a tunnel. Naz had apparently struck a nerve—oops! We’re both damaged goods, I guess. He started humming, took her hand off her waist, and started swinging it. A few minutes of silence passed.

  “Why downtown?” asked Naz.

  “Why not downtown … It’s crowded; we’re least likely to get in trouble for being truant.”

  “Yeah but nothin’s going on downtown.”

  “Sure it is. We can go to the festival.” She perked up.

  “Doesn’t start ’til tomorrow.”

  “All the better. That means everyone’s setting up, and there’s no crowds or cops, just you …” She let go of her strap and touched his chest with her finger, “and me.” She pointed back to herself.

  He liked the sound of that, and his mouth formed a smile against his will. The Helix jerked, and she fell into him. He instinctively grabbed her. Naz had never felt D that close before, in his arms, all of her weight. He righted her immediately and looked out of the window as a distraction. “Ahem.”

  “My knight in shining armor,” she said.

  He could feel her eyes ranging over him. “What?” He finally returned her gaze.

  “Is my boyfriend embarrassed?”

  An older lady sat expressionless next to where they stood, observing the young couple.

  Still smiling, D looked at the woman. “My boyfriend’s embarrassed.”

  “Stop,” said Naz.

  “Someone’s in love,” said the woman.

  They both pointed to each other and laughed.