Unless ur scared
Naz was numb. Harvis’ banter meant nothing. He went to MeeChi’s, got sparring gear, and walked to Fears’ house. He needed the solitude, but he didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t know what he was feeling—what happened? He had seen the Chess Master at the festival every year for the last four years—where was he? How? Pauling had said ‘Nobody finds Cornelius Andersen.’ Did he not show up because he knew I would be there … but how? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Pauling! He said he was friends with my dad. He told him I would be there today. How could I be so stupid to trust him with anything? My dad doesn’t want to see me? D won’t talk to me. Meri? I have nobody again.
When Naz walked in, Fears was sporting a royal blue apron and dashed back and forth from his backyard to his kitchen. Harvis and Soul sat in their respective places on the extended black leather throne, eyes glued to the massive screen.
“Tin Man’s in the house,” said Soul.
“How we gonna beat these guys, Naz?” Harvis nodded to the adjacent black leather chair where a game controller sat prepared.
“Call Ham.” Naz picked up the controller and took his rightful place.
“Excuse me?” said Harvis.
“You heard me.”
Soul grabbed his phone, but Harvis stopped him with his hand.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s the only way we can win, right, the only way we can beat the computer?” Naz looked at the screen with no emotion.
“Naz.” Harvis paused the game.
Naz returned Harvis’ stare. “I’m not gonna start anything. Make the call.”
Harvis nodded to Soul, and Soul sent Ham a text. A half-hour later Ham sat cross-legged on the floor with a controller in hand. It was just what the Doctor ordered as Team Harvis was now in a close game against the AI-controlled computer.
“Thanks, Naz,” said Ham from the floor.
Naz nodded slightly, and more at the screen than Ham. It was the only gesture he had made that afternoon, and he resembled Harvis more than himself.
All of a sudden the screen went dead. Fears stood behind them in his apron looking no worse for the wear, pointing a remote control at the screen.
“Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, dinner is served.”
“Aw, Coach. We were finally winning,” complained Soul.
“Actually it was tied up,” said Harvis.
“Same thing.” Soul stood up.
“Don’t worry; I paused the game,” said Harvis.
“Outside,” bellowed Fears, pointing to the side door. “It’s too nice to be cooped up in here. Time for some wings, burgers, franks, and ribs.”
Soul was the first one out the door, while Naz plodded along, taking up the rear.
“And some Limbo Rock,” Fears finished.
They all groaned and moaned.
“Not that Chubby Checker junk again, Coach. We can play the Limbo game without that song, right?” asked Soul.
They all piled outside.
“Naw, let it play. Low man wins, right, Coach?” Ham was the first to grab the limbo bar.
“That’s right, Martinez. That’s how we learn defense … low man wins.” Fears tended to the grill which had a nice fire stoked by any measure.
“That’s ’cause you always win, Ham.” Harvis grabbed the other end of the limbo bar while Soul and Naz took turns going under it.
Naz won easily. When it was Harvis’ and Ham’s turn, it was no contest, which left a showdown between Naz and Ham. Ham prevailed and remained the undefeated Limbo Champion. Naz tried his best to have fun and forget about D, but it was no use; she occupied his mind exclusively.
After Limbo, Fears let the boys play their music as long as he liked it or at least wasn’t offended by it. His backyard was an extension of his house, fenced-in, complete with a garden, mini gazebo, and well-manicured lawn.
“Coach, when you gonna put up a rim out here?” Soul polished off one of his many hot dogs.
“Not gonna happen, Bender. This is the one place I can get away from it all.”
Naz’s phone buzzed. It was from Harvis. Naz looked at Harvis. Harvis nodded. Naz read the text.
We’ll talk later.
Naz nodded but realized he had also received a text from D. His heart fluttered. It read,
He
He? She must’ve meant Hey. He sent back,
Hey. I miss you.
He was tired of playing games. He wanted his girlfriend back. He needed her back.
“Showtime,” Fears bellowed. “I’m tired of hearing about how good you two guys are. Time to put up or shut up.”
“Yeah, let’s go, Wordsmith.” Soul handed Harvis his fighting gear.
“You guys gonna fight?” asked Ham.
“Spar,” Harvis corrected, taking his gear from Soul.
“Sweet,” said Ham.
Naz reached for his gear.
“Light contact, guys. I trust you know what that means and what you’re doing,” warned Fears.
Harvis and Naz nodded as they sat in the grass near each other, putting on their gear.
“I got twenty on Wordsmith,” said Soul.
“I’ll take that bet,” Ham responded.
Naz looked at Ham.
“There’s no betting,” Fears bellowed. “On second thought, losers clean up all this mess. How do you guys score it?”
“First to five points, only contact to the headgear and solar plexus counts, right?” Harvis snapped on his footgear as he turned to Naz.
Naz nodded.
“I’ll score it, and remember, light contact.” Fears leaned against the house, amused.
Naz and Harvis stood and started bouncing up and down, stretching.
“I think I ate too much.” Harvis flexed at his waist.
“You really think Naz can take the Wordsmith,” Soul said to Ham.
“You don’t?” asked Ham. “You forget that day? I haven’t.”
Soul looked at Naz who was swaying back and forth, expressionless. “I changed my mind.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Harvis smirked at Soul.
“Sorry.” Soul shrugged.
Harvis looked at Naz. “That’s fine. Superman doesn’t have a sidekick, right?”
Naz nodded.
“Plus … I think lover boy here has gone soft.” Harvis strapped up his headgear, tapped Naz in the stomach, and bounced away.
“Back up, guys.” Fears looked at Ham and Soul. “One more thing … I don’t know who knocked my bike off the wall, but the loser’s payin’ for that, too.”
Ham and Soul came over and stood next to Fears. Harvis and Naz stood facing each other, put in their mouth guards, and bowed.
Fears made a motion with his hand like he was hitting a bell and said, “Ding. Ding.”
Harvis and Naz danced around each other. Naz’s mind was on D and his father, and he had resolved never to use his abilities again. He wanted to kill those police officers for what they had done to him—and no one could’ve stopped me. No one should have that power … no one! The only problem was his powers had become an integral part of him. To attempt to shut them down would put him at an extreme disadvantage against the masterful Harvis.
Harvis reached in and hit Naz in the forehead with ease.
“Come on, Tin Man; Coach’ll have me washin’ his car every day if you lose.”
Fears laughed.
“Let’s go, Naz,” said Ham.
“Take ’im, apart, Young. He has grown soft. Haven’t seen him at practice in a while.” Fears laughed again.
Harvis looked at Fears, and Naz took advantage with a back fist to the side of Harvis’ head.
“Sorry, Son,” said Fears to Harvis. “That’s one apiece.”
The two danced around each other, cautiously, looking for an opening.
“You guys are wearing down my lawn, dancing around. Maybe I should have left the music on,” Fears joked.
Soul laughed.
Harvis found his openi
ng and hit Naz once after a feint and again after Naz missed an attempted counter punch. “Quicker than who?” Harvis taunted.
“Ooh, did you see that?” asked Fears elbowing Soul in the ribs. “Does that count as two?”
“I’ll take one,” said Harvis. “Wouldn’t wanna end it too quickly.”
Naz danced away and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs and regroup.
“Come on, Naz. Engage,” said Harvis so only Naz could hear.
“Two to one,” said Fears.
Naz positioned himself for the obvious.
Harvis read it like a book. “Don’t—”
Naz faked a kick to the head that Harvis didn’t buy then dropped for a leg sweep. Harvis was already in the air with a spinning kick that caught Naz coming in. The technique ripped Naz’s headgear off and sent him into the bushes sprawling.
“Damn,” said Soul.
“That’s enough,” said Fears as he ran to the bushes along with Harvis to help Naz up.
Naz got up quickly on his own then snatched away from them. “I’m OK.”
“That’s enough,” said Fears again.
“I’m OK, Coach. He just grazed me, his foot got caught in my headgear, and I was off balance.” Naz put his headgear back on and started bouncing up and down.
“He’s right, Coach,” confirmed Harvis. “I barely hit ’im. Let ’im finish.”
Fears looked at Harvis and backed away. “All right, but I’m counting that last one as two. It’s four to one.”
Soul crossed his arms, concerned, and Ham said something to him with his hands out that displayed confusion.
Naz blitzed Harvis for another point that Harvis made no attempt to block. When Naz tried the maneuver again, Harvis stepped to the side, caught Naz on the top of his head with a back fist, and it was over.
“My guys, my guys … good match,” Fears came over to congratulate them both.
Soul and Ham stood, stunned.
“T-Thanks, Coach,” Naz stammered as he took off his equipment and stuffed it in his bag as quickly as he could. “It’s been fun, guys, but I have to do some work for Mr. Tesla before it gets too late.” He walked right by Ham and Soul into the house and headed for the front door.
He got outside and started down the street. He didn’t make it one block.
“Naz.” Harvis was right behind him.
Naz stopped and turned around with his head down.
“What was that?” asked Harvis.
“What?”
“Back there, the way you fought?” He nodded toward Fears’ house.
“I just didn’t have it today.”
“You can say that again. What’s wrong with you? What happened today?”
“D found out about me—”
“Wait … about you?”
“The things I can do.”
“That was bound to happen.”
“Well, now she’s not speaking to me.”
Harvis put his head down. “Give her some time.”
“And I went to see my father today.”
“Your father?”
“At the festival … The Chess Master, only, he wasn’t the Chess Master today, and the cops threw me out.”
“You’ve been busy. We need to talk. Go home and chill. Tomorrow.”
Naz nodded, never making eye contact with Harvis.
They shook hands and went their separate ways.
Naz shuffled his way back to MeeChi’s with no concept of time. It was early evening with a few hours of daylight left, but the shroud of darkness had covered him. He checked his phone to see if a message from D had somehow escaped him and decided to send one more of his own.
I won’t bother you again.
She responded immediately.
Lol
Cruel. Pour it on. I deserve that. It was official; they were a couple no more. Dr. Gwen, Harvis, Pauling—how I hate him—were all wrong. D wouldn’t be getting over it. She wouldn’t be coming back—and I’m OK with that.
He stumbled into MeeChi’s and up to his room, oblivious to Tone’s greeting, oblivious to bustling Saturday shoppers and enthusiastic employees, oblivious to Mr. Tesla’s sympathetic advice that this too would pass and time would heal all wounds. He entertained the possibility of an on-off switch as one of his gifts—curses—to help him to that end. He lay in his bed, staring at the ancient cracks in the ceiling, his usual pastime.
He searched for that mythical switch that would transport him in an instant to a better place and time, a time before, when it was just him and Meri, no gifts, abilities, talents, or mysterious powers to unravel, no achy breaky heart to mend, only the comparatively easy streets of the Exclave to navigate. Or maybe a time in the future where the pain and all the things that fed it were gone. Or perhaps a place in another world where the name Andersen never existed.
His conscious and unconscious blurred, minutes turned to hours, and the next day was the same. His only glimmer of hope came and went in the form a dream that felt more like a nightmare during the few hours of sleep he managed to salvage.
He stood across from her in a dark space. The only thing illuminated was her, the light from above coming from nowhere. She sat in a chair, still and subdued, judge and jury, apparently waiting for an explanation for his deceitful actions. He had none, only…
“I’m sorry,” he kept saying. “I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
But it was as if she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him. Or—she wouldn’t see him, and her coldness and indifference to his presence kept waking him up in an emotional state of hopelessness. He was suffocating.
When Mr. Tesla got to MeeChi’s on Monday morning, Naz wasn’t asleep, but he was still under the covers. He had intended not to go to school today, but since he wasn’t sick, Mr. Tesla insisted.
“I found this in front of the store this morning.” Mr. Tesla handed Naz a white envelope.
Naz folded it in half and stuffed it in his back pocket. He wouldn’t eat or talk, and when he finally left MeeChi’s that morning, he was already ten minutes late for school.
Naz didn’t have any compassion for people on the streets today, could not imagine their pain, sorrow, or suffering being worse than his own. He remembered the day Meri had died and how he walked the streets all night. He couldn’t imagine feeling as bad then as he did now but accepted that was probably the case—it was just a different pain. If this is how a broken heart felt, he would never fall in love again—ever!
When he arrived at Union, he was already a half-hour late, so only a few students straggled up. There were papers posted on the doors that Naz could see from a distance as he approached. A few students passed out flyers, the same flyer on the doors Naz assumed. One parent who had a stack handed one to Naz. He immediately dropped it and watched it float to the ground. It wasn’t until he reached the door that he recognized the face on the flyer that read:
MISSING!
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
Delilah Emily Dinwiddie
Age: 15
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 128 lbs.
Date Missing…
Naz read the top again—missing? She must’ve run away … with her mother. Well, good for her. He touched the picture and traced her face. She was younger in the picture—maybe twelve or thirteen—and her glasses were different. Other than that she looked the same. As he made his way to Fears’ class, he studied the picture. He folded it crudely and shoved it in his pocket with the envelope Mr. Tesla had given him.
Naz walked up to Fears’ door and peeked through the glass. Class already in session, he hesitated. It was bad enough he was late; he just remembered his embarrassing Saturday sparring spectacle in front of Fears and his friends. Add to that a flyer floating around with a picture of his missing girlfriend, and the attention was more than he could bear. He made an about-face, retraced his steps, and left the building.
He headed to a familiar place where he
knew he would be alone and at the same time able to talk to someone.
“What am I supposed to do now?” He sat in front of Meri’s grave. “Just go to school, forget about my father, forget about you, Momma? Was I wrong to think I could be happy? Was I wrong to forget why I came back here … to forget about you? Because I haven’t.” He pulled the key out of his shirt as if to show Meri he hadn’t taken it off. He hadn’t broken his vow. “Everything D does and says has a little part of you in it … or maybe that’s just the way I see it.
“Everyone tells me I have a gift. You said it, too. Then why does nothing good ever come out of it? I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save Artie. I couldn’t save Momma, and now D’s gone.” He ripped a handful of grass out of the soil. “I can’t find my father either. He won’t let me. He must’ve known they weren’t gifts, and that’s why he took my memory, my gifts. But why are they back? I didn’t ask for them. I don’t want them. And why won’t he see me? Meri.” He glanced at Meri’s headstone and then tossed the grass to the side. “I wanted to kill someone Saturday, a police officer. I didn’t, but I wanted to, though, and that wasn’t the first time. Am I a monster?”
“No.”
Naz looked up, startled to see Harvis a few yards over, leaning against a tree.
“What are you doing here?”
“I followed you. Your little peeking into class … not very subtle. Come on.”
“What?”
“We got work to do; now get up. Where’s your phone? You haven’t returned any of my texts. You look a mess.” Harvis walked over to Naz. “And you stink. Isn’t that what you had on Saturday?”
“Leave me alone.” Naz got up and headed for the cemetery exit.
“I told you to be ready and that night would come again.” Harvis followed Naz. “Well it’s here, so what are you gonna do about it?”
“I’m going … home so stop following me.” Naz hurried through the open gate of the cemetery.
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