What would Artie be doing hangin’ out with them? Naz opened his locker and stood behind the door in a way that the three of them wouldn’t see him. As they approached, he could hear Dill and Denali insulting Artie, saying nasty things about Artie’s weight, his family, and especially Artie’s sister who was a sixth-grader at Lincoln. As they passed by, Naz could see they had Artie by his arms and were physically moving him forward against his will. They were trying to get something from him, something he kept insisting he hadn’t finished or didn’t have. Maybe he’s doing some homework for them or something.
Fears lectured on bullying, one of Naz’s biggest pet peeves. It was the one lecture Fears gave that Naz had no trouble paying close attention to from beginning to end. Fears had zero tolerance for bullying. He said bullying could be physical or psychological and it was important to avoid people who exhibited bullying behaviors because more often than not, the bully couldn’t help themselves. Naz recalled Fears saying walk away and himself nodding in agreement. Unfortunately Ham hadn’t come back by then. Fears also said if you found yourself in a situation where you were being bullied, you should look for help, first from an adult, and then from anyone else who might be available. Finally, it was Fears opinion that some of them had a responsibility to help those who could not or would not help themselves, for whatever reason.
Fears’ words echoed in Naz’s head as he looked at his phone. He had just received, not ten minutes earlier, a text from Artie that simply read:
Help!
At the time, Naz didn’t think anything of it, as Artie must’ve texted him fifty times a day about any and everything. It had been that way since the first official day of practice when Fears made all of his players exchange numbers.
Naz looked back down the hallway, where the three boys had just passed the security guard who was reading a magazine at her desk. Lot of good she is. He remembered Fears’ words and decided to take matters into his own hands.
He closed his locker and followed the three boys. What to say, what to do? As he closed the distance, he decided on just saying “let him go” in the most authoritative, intimidating voice he could muster. He figured it had worked before on Miss Tracey when she had grabbed Meri one night, and she was a grownup. If it didn’t work this time, one thing he knew about bullies was they picked on who they thought wouldn’t fight back. If he and Artie ended up throwing hands and fighting the bigger boys, win or lose, Dill and Denali wouldn’t want that trouble again.
As the three boys reached the end of the hallway that turned and led in another direction, Naz steeled himself. Here goes nothing. Before he could speak …
“Dill … Denali! Where we goin’?” Harvis was standing casually with his back against his locker and his head buried in his composition book.
Dill and Denali stopped.
“W-What do you mean, ‘we’?” Denali asked.
“Stay outta this, Harvis,” said Dill.
Dill, Denali, and Artie finally turned to see Naz as he came around the corner. Harvis still hadn’t looked up.
“‘Fraid I can’t do that, Dill,” said Harvis. “See, Duplessis here, he’s on the basketball team. You guys know about that … the basketball team? Now, Coach Fears told us we have to do everything together. Now, you’re free to join us.”
Dill and Denali looked at each other, and then Harvis and Naz as if realizing the odds were no longer in their favor.
Just then Naz saw a tattoo on Denali’s forearm, as the sleeve of his sweatshirt was pushed up. It was the same symbols he had seen on the forearms of the boys from the gang over the weekend: one, a sword with a serpent going around it, and the other, an eye. The symbols formed the letters, IA.
“What is that?” Naz asked, pointing to the boy’s arm. “What does it mean?”
Harvis finally looked up, making eye contact with Naz. Denali ignored Naz and immediately pushed his sleeve down, covering the tattoo.
“Let’s go.” Denali nodded to Dill.
They released Artie and left.
“Catch ya later, Artie!” Dill waved his fingers.
“Thanks guys,” said Artie sheepishly to Naz and Harvis, his face gone red, as he hurried down the hall.
“Hey, Artie, wait up,” said Naz.
“I gotta get to class.” Artie sped away, giving Naz no chance to pursue.
There was an uncomfortable silence as Naz stood there and Harvis continued writing away in his composition book. Naz started to walk away.
“Hey, Andersen.”
Naz stopped.
“Superman doesn’t have a sidekick.” Harvis kept his eyes on his notebook.
Naz gave a forced laugh and then quickly thought of something to say. “How’d you do that … with the static push-up at tryouts … staying still and not moving for so long? I mean … I could see Soul; he’s an animal.” Naz thought he saw a slight smile from Harvis as he looked up from his book.
“It’s mind over matter. Remember what I told you after you lapped me … about not letting your opponent think you’re tired?”
Naz nodded. “So you were tired. You were about to go down any second then.”
“I guess we’ll never know.” Harvis smirked. “How’d you learn to run like that?”
“It’s what I do every day … at work.”
The tardy bell rang.
“Well, see ya around.” Naz started back toward his locker.
Harvis nodded.
Naz knew they were both going in the same direction to the same class but purposely avoided putting himself in a situation where he would end up walking to class with Harvis. He didn’t know why, but he just didn’t feel comfortable with that. Even though Naz admired Harvis, he didn’t feel like talking to him, at least not for any length of time. Their conversation felt strained, and he wondered did Harvis feel the same way, as he didn’t seem all too comfortable either. Still, he was drawn to Harvis; there was something about him. Artie, on the other hand, was easy to talk to—maybe because Artie does all the talking.
Naz forgot he had decided to go home until he found himself dozing in social studies class. The confrontation in the hallway and the following conversation with Harvis had given him a little life, but very little. After struggling through social studies, it was on to Fears’ class for a practical on CPR. They would be tested on giving CPR to a mannequin. Was it thirty chest compressions and two breaths, or vice versa?
“Coach, now is it ten breaths and three compressions?” asked Soul.
“Mr. Bender,” bellowed Fears. “This is an exam.”
“Sorry, Coach.”
Fears had lined up five mannequins in the front of the classroom, and he observed with clipboard in hand. When he was satisfied the students had some idea of what they were doing, he would give his customary tap on the shoulder, send them to their seats, and call up another student in their place.
“Most of the time CPR does not work on the victim, but it’s the times that it does that count,” Fears lectured. “We’re giving them a fighting chance, so you need to feel comfortable enough to at least try. Always try!”
As Naz waited his turn, he noticed Artie had not come to class.
Naz leaned over to Milton. “You talk to Artie today?”
Milton shook his head. Naz didn’t always respond to Artie’s texts, but after the incident in the hallway, he decided to send Artie a text.
Hey rd wassup? Ur missn all the fun in here
After five minutes and no reply, Naz became fairly alarmed. The few times he had texted over the past week, Artie’s responses were almost always immediate.
“Mr. Andersen,” bellowed Fears. “You’re up.”
Naz started in on the mannequin. He decided on thirty compressions and two breaths.
“Take it easy, Tin Man. No means no,” said Soul jokingly.
The class erupted in laughter.
“You would know, Mr. Bender,” retorted Fears.
Fears observed Naz as the class laughed and teased Soul.
“Come on, Coach,” replied Soul playfully.
“Good job, son.” Fears tapped Naz on his shoulder.
“May I be excused, Coach?” asked Naz.
Coach nodded.
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
D
Naz still hadn’t received a return text from Artie, and now in the hallway he had no idea where to start looking. Maybe he’s just tired like me and went home early. If he did, he’d be dead sleep by now. I know I would. That would explain him not returning my text.
Naz smiled as he walked across the large, cartoonish painting of Abraham Lincoln on the floor: the Railsplitter, the pale, bearded, big-headed caricature wielding an axe even larger than his head. For some reason it always lifted his spirits, but not today. That mythical second-wind that Fears kept talking about wasn’t showing itself.
As he walked back to class he saw a boy standing up against the wall nervously. He obviously did something … lookin’ all guilty. Then it occurred to Naz the boy was standing right next to the girls’ bathroom all by himself. Now why would he be standing there … of all places … by himself? He has to know how ridiculous he looks. Naz laughed. Then he stopped in his tracks as the thought harassed him. Why is he standing there? And he remembered he himself had done the same thing before, when he was standing guard for her that first day of school. He looked back at the boy and had a hunch.
He needed a plan. He needed to think quickly. He needed Harvis, and Fears would let Harvis out of class any time he asked. Naz pulled out his phone and sent Harvis a text, something he had never done before.
HELP! EMERGENCY @ DA BATHROOM DOWN FROM DA RAILSPLITTER LOGO!
It was a calculated risk. He had never even seen Harvis with a phone out. Even if Harvis didn’t show, and she was in the bathroom, she would have to eventually come out, and he could talk to her then. He would just have to deal with the boy keeping watch—but Harvis sure could make this a whole lot easier.
In less than a minute Harvis came around the corner. “What is it?”
“First off, it’s not an emergency. I just need a big favor. I need him gone from there.” Naz looked at the boy.
“What … why?” asked Harvis.
Naz fished for an answer.
“Wait,” said Harvis. “I don’t wanna know. What do you want me to do?”
“Thank you. When I walk up to him and stop, you start walking over. You don’t have to say a word, just give him that look.”
Harvis looked puzzled.
“You know that look … the one you gave Dill and Denali earlier,” Naz continued.
“Not really.”
“There … that look you have right now … as a matter of fact, come to think of it, the way you always look.”
“If you say so.”
“Walk over there and give him that look … your look.”
Harvis nodded.
“Thank you.” Naz turned and walked toward the boy aggressively.
When he got to the boy, he realized he hadn’t decided what to say. Scram, beat it, split, get out of here; they all seem like bullying. Naz and the now confused boy just stared at each other. Naz turned to see Harvis on his way and said the first nice thing that came to mind. “I really need you to leave.”
The boy opened his mouth, but before any words could escape, he turned to see Harvis walk up and stare at him. The boy shrugged and walked away.
“Well that wasn’t too hard,” said Naz. “I owe you one.”
“Trust me; no you don’t.” Harvis walked away.
As Harvis disappeared around the corner Naz thought, déjà vu. He knew the voice would likely come if didn’t calm himself so he took a deep breath.
Before he could exhale, she came out of the bathroom, said “thanks”, and ran by him.
This is déjà vu. It’s now or never. “Hey,” he called to her.
She stopped and turned around. Her expression changed from wonder to confusion. “It’s you,” she said. “What happened to …”
She didn’t finish, Naz assumed, because she didn’t know the other boy’s name. “I sent him away.” Naz walked toward her.
“You sent him away?”
“Yeah … the last time, you told me to wait for you, right? I couldn’t very well do that with him standing there … now could I?”
She turned and they both started walking. “Well that’s corny.”
Naz got hot all over. He could sense he was losing her, and he needed a comeback. He remembered Fears telling Artie, “laugh at yourself and the whole world laughs with you.”
“What … you don’t like corny? ’cause I got ’em all, suave, lame, handsome, shy, smart … just pick one.”
“Hmmm … I can see lame.”
“Ouch!”
“Well, Naz, I have to get back to class.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“Some of us have to actually go to class.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re on the basketball team, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think we get any special treatment. This is my first year on the team … my first year at Lincoln.”
“Where’d you go last year?”
“Trenton … and Monticello.”
“In one year?”
“Yup.”
“Get around, don’t you?”
“A little.” There was a brief period of uncomfortable silence. “Well, the least I can do is walk you back to class. I’m going in that direction anyway.” Naz smiled.
“And what direction is that?”
“That direction,” Naz said, pointing ahead.
She smiled as she shook her head.
Then it occurred to Naz that she had said his name, and it made him feel giddy all over. “You know my name.”
“Not exactly, I’m guessing Naz isn’t your real name.”
“Impressive … you are as smart as you are pretty.” He cringed. He had heard the line in a movie somewhere, and it seemed appropriate until the words came out of his mouth.
“Lame.” She laughed.
“I know … I can’t believe I said that … but it’s true.” He laughed with her.
“What’s your real name?”
“Uh … you wouldn’t be interested in that. What’s your name?”
“D,” she said.
“D as in …”
“D as in D.”
“Fair enough.” He didn’t want her to press him about his real name so he didn’t inquire anymore about hers.
Finally … I’m doing this … talking to her … D … that’s a nice … initial. Completely absorbed, he slowed his pace a bit so he would be slightly behind her and could get a good look at her, all of her. He felt like he was floating. She was floating, as her ponytail went from side to side, hypnotizing him. She turned to catch him staring at her.
“What are you doing?”
He looked at the floor. “Nothing.”
She slowed her pace to match his so they were side by side again. Her incriminating eyes caused him to break his stare then moved up to notice his hair.
“Naz, huh? You know in the Bible, a Nazarite would take a vow to never cut his hair,” she said, still looking at his hair.
“Wow …” He smiled. “That’s where I got it from.”
“Whatever.” She waved her hand in the air.
“No … true story … from Samson, the strongest man in the Bible. He was a Nazarite.”
“You’re odd.”
“I told you; I got ’em all. You like odd?”
“Hmmm … not sure yet.”
“You like basketball?”
“I like it fine … just not all the conflict.”
He remembered what had happened on the court between him and Ham and wondered what she must’ve thought. “So … where you been?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“I
was staying with my grandparents until … wait. How do you know I haven’t been around? Have you been stalking me? Are you a stalker, Naz?” She raised her eyebrows.
“No,” Naz said defensively. This is a tough one. She’s a tough one. Have I been stalking her? Searching the school grounds, the cafeteria, trying out for the team to get close to her, he just realized what he had been doing came real close to the definition Fears gave in health class of stalking.
Just ahead of them, two police officers turned into the school office. Naz saw this as a perfect opportunity to change the subject. “Wonder what this is about.”
Police officers in Lincoln were nothing new. They were there at least once a week taking some kid away in handcuffs that had been caught doing or dealing drugs or that had assaulted a teacher or another student.
“Why, you got a guilty conscience?” she asked.
“Not me, I’m as innocent as a lamb.”
“More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing I bet.”
There were several students already standing in front of the office when Naz and D walked up. Naz saw through the glass the police officers and two paramedics talking with Pauling and a custodian. A stretcher stood on end next to the office door. When the two paramedics came out of the office with the stretcher, one of them said they had found him too late. Naz recognized the voice and then the face of the paramedic as the one that had told him that Ham would be OK after getting stabbed that first day of school. That’s eerie.
The paramedics hurried down the hallway. Artie’s parents hurried past Naz and D into the office with worried looks on their faces. This is bad. A handful of students had formed in front of the office but weren’t allowed in. They were talking about some kid that was just found in the pool, some kid named Rollie or something.
“I thought the swimming pool was closed,” said D.
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