For our lunch period, Alan, Jeff, and I headed to the Grease-Burger. I loved our open-campus policy at school. We went off campus for lunch a couple of times a week. Since I got a whopping ten percent discount at the Grease-Burger for being an employee, I always bought, and then everyone paid me back.
We walked in the door, and the familiar miasma of greasy goodness greeted us. I headed to the counter to order. Even though I knew it by heart, I took my time studying the menu. Jeff interrupted my perusal when he tugged on my shirt.
“Look behind you.”
I turned and met the gaze of Erik Parmely. He sat at a table with Stib. The mass of bruises on his face looked painful. They had gained in color and size and dwarfed the healthy skin. His eyelid, still swollen, appeared slightly better, but that eye didn’t open as wide as the other when he gaped at me with shock.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured.
Erik stood from the table and came toward us, or more precisely, toward me. The bruises and swelling masked his intentions. I had no desire to stick around and discover them the hard way.
I turned and said to my friends, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Alan balked. “Can’t we just get something to go? I’m starved.” He was talking to my back as I headed toward the door.
Just as I opened the door, Erik grabbed my arm from behind. “Morgenstern!”
I pulled away from his grasp and faced him. “Leave me alone!” I half-yelled, half-pleaded.
Erik’s eye went wide. If the thought hadn’t been so absurd, I would have said he looked frightened by me. He back away from me. “Jesus, they were right. You don’t have a mark on you. You’re a fucking freak!”
I suddenly realized what had captured his attention. The bruises on my face had faded quickly, and now nothing but a few yellowish areas remained.
“How did you do that? What the fuck are you?” he demanded, searching my face for clues.
“None of your business, Parmely,” said Alan, walking up to my side. His six-plus frame gave him an advantage in the intimidation department.
I was seriously grateful for his intervention.
“Now, get out of my friend’s face before we call the cops.”
Rage replaced the fear on Erik’s face, and he took another half step back. He pointed at me. “There is something wrong with you, Morgenstern. You aren’t right, and I’m going to find out what you are!”
I fled out the door with Alan and Jeff behind me. I almost ran away from the Grease-Burger making my friends jog to catch up.
Jeff said, “Wow, Finn, he really doesn’t like you.”
“Ya think?”
Alan, not one to be distracted from the important things, brought up the immediate problem. “Okay, so now where are we going to find food?”
We ended up picking up something nasty from Seven-Eleven. It was farther from school, so we had to eat while walking back.
On our way to campus, Alan joked, “I have a suggestion, Finn. Next time you see some kid getting beat up, turn around and walk the other way.”
“That’s sounding more and more like good advice, Alan.”
I spent the rest of the school day feeling a bit sick. I wasn’t sure if the nausea came from the “food”—a hotdog and a stale doughnut—or the confrontation with Erik. Probably a combination of the two.
That afternoon, I called Uncle Mark. “When can we start my self-defense training?”
“I’m free after five tomorrow. Can you come by the shop at five thirty?”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Leave the bells at home, Finn. I don’t want to crush them when we train.”
I spent Tuesday evening trying to catch up on all my class work. It seemed hopeless, because my concentration and focus continued to be MIA. I made little progress, but kept pushing myself. Panic about the end of the semester had become my constant companion so, no matter how many times I closed my books in frustration and decided to sleep, I soon found myself hopping out of bed to try to work on something else.
I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, feeling as if I had gotten no sleep. I barely caught the bus. Gregg and I sat together.
“Damn, Finn, you look like you’ve been up all night.”
I yawned. “Yeah, I have.”
“What’s eating you now?”
“I’ve got a feeling that I’m really going to crash and burn on my grades this semester.”
He smiled and said in a dry voice, “Can’t imagine why. Take heart, though. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that your last semester grades don’t count for anything?”
“Nope, didn’t get the memo.”
“Look, you’ve already sent off your apps for college right?”
“Yeah, you know I’ve been accepted to OSU.”
He already knew because we planned on rooming together. Our parents both brought in reasonable money, but State was a good school and you couldn’t beat the tuition.
“There ya go. They’re not going to look at these grades—ever. Unless you flunk out, you’ll be fine.”
“Except, of course, for my scholarship. If I don’t do well this semester, I won’t get it.”
That didn’t slow Gregg down more than a beat. “That would suck, Finn, but it’s not earth-shattering. What’s it worth, five grand?”
I nodded.
“Look, if you get a job as an engineer, you’ll be making seventy grand per year, right? If you make that kind of money, what’s an extra five in debt?”
“If I can get a job.”
He waved that away. “If you don’t get a job, it still won’t make a huge difference. Don’t worry about it, Finn. Either way, it’s not going to change your life significantly.”
This thought cheered me up. “I never thought about it that way.”
I kept that conversation in mind all day as I slogged my way through school. It definitely helped. Given my grades to that point in the semester, I didn’t think I would flunk any of my classes if I just showed up for the tests, except for maybe English. That didn’t take into account what my parents would say if I bombed this semester, though, so I wasn’t off the hook. That day, I spent my free periods sleeping and was tempted to do so for lunch, but I was tired, not dead.
Given my naps during free periods and Physics, I felt a lot better when the final bell rang. Nevertheless, as soon as I got home, I took another nap to be ready for my first self-defense class with my uncle. My alarm went off at four thirty, which would have given me plenty of time to bike over to the rock shop, but I couldn’t shake my exhaustion, and I pushed the snooze button twice. By the time I got up, I begged my mom to drive me.
It turned out that she had other plans, so I grabbed my bike and started down the road. Everything was fine until I contemplated taking the shortcut trail through the woods. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I started shaking. A flashback of being on my back in the woods at the mercy of Erik Parmely hit me. My adrenals pumped me full of jumpy juice, and I started shaking so hard, I had to stop and try to catch my breath. I seriously thought about turning around and heading home.
Unconsciously, I reached for my necklace under my shirt. The moment my hand closed around the heart, a measure of calm returned. My mind cleared enough that I could think things through a little better. I had to get over this. I had to learn to defend myself so it would never happen again. I got back on my bike and made the best time I could without taking any shortcuts. Even so, I arrived fifteen minutes late.
I came in the front door of Sampson’s Rocks and Relics, and my uncle stood behind the counter with his attention focused on something laying there.
When the doorbell chimed, he lifted his head and growled, “Finn, one thing we have to get clear. If we’re going to work together, if you’re going to be my student, you will respect my time.” His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry I’m late, Uncle Mark,” I said, still flushed and a bit shaky. “I had a panic attack on t
he way over. I had to wait for the shaking to stop before I could get back on my bike.”
“Was it the attack or something else?”
“The attack. I thought about taking the shortcut through the woods, and then I couldn’t breathe.”
“Ah, I see. I guess that isn’t surprising. Tell me exactly what happened when they ambushed you.”
I hated the idea of reliving it again, but I told him everything as best I could.
“So what did you do to attract his attention in the first place?”
I told him about the encounter in the hall and the one at Frankies. He pumped me for details like everyone except the school board had.
When I finished, he said, “Sounds like his father is the one responsible for all this. He’s creating a monster the old-fashioned way. Hopefully, after we get done with you, you won’t get in that situation again without the ability to protect yourself and your friends.”
He motioned toward the front of the shop. “Lock the door, flip the sign, drop your gear anywhere, and we will begin.”
I did as he asked and then preceded him to the back room. As soon as I entered, a feeling of dread hit me. I turned toward the source of the dread, and saw the skull sitting on my uncle’s desk. I shuddered to a halt and Uncle Mark almost ran into me. He said something, which didn’t register, then walked around me and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay, Finn?”
I shook my head to clear it. “Uh, no, I mean, yes. I’m okay.”
Concerned interest filled his face. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, that skull is just creepy.”
“Your reaction to that skull seems more than 'creepy' would warrant.”
I had a strong urge to confide in him, but my need for his respect overrode it. Of all the people in my life, I wanted his approval more than anyone else. He was so competent at everything he did. He was strong, assured, and dynamic. In a way, I guess he was kind of my hero.
I tried to shrug it off and point out that I was being juvenile before he did. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just being silly.” I tried to walk past the skull, but Mark’s hand on my shoulder prevented me.
“Finn, I have never met someone as intuitive as you. I’m continually impressed by your ability to zero in on things that have been buried and forgotten. You do yourself a disservice when you toss aside your instincts. You need to understand this and trust yourself more. If something really bothers you about that skull, spend some time examining your feelings before you toss them out.”
I swallowed hard. I had never received validation like this, and coming from Mark, it meant a lot. “Uncle Mark, I get a really awful feeling from that skull. I think you should put it away someplace safe and leave it there.”
He didn’t scoff or make me feel silly, just examined me with a serious gaze. “Have you ever heard of psychometry?
“Object reading?”
“Yes, exactly. Don’t tell your father I said this, but I believe that somehow, echoes of past events can be impressed on an object and some individuals can feel those impressions. I met and worked with some people who have that gift. I think you are one of those people, too. The life this man we dug up had, looking like he did, must have been horrendous. He must have been the object of fear and hatred. That sort of existence would leave terrible scars. It wouldn’t surprise me if they created long-lasting impressions.”
“Do you believe in Evil, Uncle Mark?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, not Evil with a capital E. I believe in the human capacity for greed, hatred, and cruelty. I would readily believe that this poor guy was twisted by his life and may have grown into the role of hatred and destruction that, given his looks, people expected from him.”
He let me reflect on this for a moment before patting my shoulder. “Come on, Finn; let’s get your lesson started. The best way to build confidence in yourself is to start with the physical.”
He led me out to the open space in the back of the store while I kept chewing on his words.
“I’m not going to teach you anything except how to defend yourself, and, if necessary, take someone out. I practice Krav Maga for this. It's what you will learn.”
I’d never heard of Krav Maga and said as much.
“It is a close in, hand-to-hand style of martial arts that is taught to the Israeli military forces. It’s designed to be fast, direct, and effective. This is not something you will ever use unless you're in a fight with no other way out. There are no ceremonial bows, salutes, or tourney rules—only survival. If someone bows to you in a real fight, use that time to kick him in the head.”
“Sounds like what I need.”
“It is. We will start with the basic block attack.”
An hour later, I was tired, sweating, and my muscles shook, but I actually felt like I understood the first basic technique. I wasn’t good at it, but it was way better than practicing falling down for the first two lessons.
When we finished, my uncle grabbed a white towel from the back room and threw it at me. “Finn, if I am going to teach you, you will take this seriously. If you are going to take this seriously, you need to get yourself into shape. You are a dough-boy right now with no muscle strength or endurance. We are going to work on that. I’m going to give you some basic strength and endurance training workouts. I want you to do them religiously. Without some strength behind your blows, you won’t do any damage, and without endurance, you will simply fail due to exhaustion.”
Being described as a dough-boy was a step up from what I would have considered myself, but I understood his point. I sat on the ground trying to catch my breath, trying to get the pain in my lungs and the trembling of my muscles under control.
“I want your commitment to me that you will start running at least four days a week and that you will take up strength training at the gym at least three days a week. You can use machines or free weights; it doesn’t matter which.”
Physical exercise was something I’d rather have modeled on a computer using differential equations than actually participate in. The thought of having to feel like this regularly was enough to make me decide that this wasn’t for me. I was thinking about how I’d tell my uncle this when he hit me below the belt.
He squatted before me in his shorts and tank top, and his lean muscles corded like wires under his skin.
“Given your age, this is probably the last opportunity you will have to take control of your body. After your teen years, your body will settle into the pattern it's currently set in. You will go through the rest of your life being out of shape, unable to take everything the world has to throw at you, and afraid of people like Erik Parmely and his pack. You may or may not find yourself facing a situation similar to what you went through last week. However, if you don’t change now, the outcome will always be the same: you will get the shit kicked out of you. Your only option will be to run away and hide. Even then, they will catch you if they try. Keep this in the forefront of your mind when the pain and the exhaustion would turn you away.”
My jaw dropped in shock. I wanted to vomit when I thought about another attack like the last one. That was when I realized that I’d do anything to avoid being the victim again.
It seemed like my uncle could see my thoughts. He slapped me in the arm. “Take this as a metaphor for your whole life. Take what you want from the world. When it doesn’t cooperate, kick the shit out of it till it does.”
This was definitely a different track for my brain train to follow. I’d always considered myself a live-and-let-live kind of guy. Yet, I had to admit that what he said made a great deal of sense right then.
Uncle Mark stood up from his crouch. “I want you to start your exercise regimen as soon as you can. If you need ideas or help, let me know.”
I peered up at him and said, “I hope you don’t mind if I wait till after finals. I’m really behind on my studies.”
He stood over me and studied me. “It’s your life. I’m not go
ing to tell you how to live it, but consider what you might do if you find yourself facing Erik again.”
Ouch. Motivation came packaged in the form of a short bald ape; who knew?
After resting for a half hour and bleakly imagining another encounter like the last one, I headed for my bike.
Uncle Mark called out to me before I left, “Hey, Finn! Are you still interested in working at the shop for me? I’m going to need some help since I’ll be dealing with all these artifacts we dug up.”
The presence of the skull at the shop never even entered my mind. “Sure!”
“Okay. I’ll give you a call later, and we can figure out your hours.”
The thought of working for my uncle buoyed me up, but I still resolutely stuck to the streets and didn’t take any shortcuts.
Reality Check
After I made it home, I scarfed down dinner and went back to my schoolwork. I fell asleep at my desk and woke up a few hours later, totally wide-awake. So, I picked up my homework and made a little progress but couldn’t keep it up. Maybe it was time to start my exercise program. I cleared a space on the floor of my room and did five sit-ups and three push-ups before performing a single give-up.
By the time I was done, my body trembled with fatigue, but my brain refused to quiet down. I flopped onto my bed and stared at my ceiling for a moment before looking around my room. My eyes hit my dreamstone hanging on my mirror, and I got out of bed and grabbed it. My secret world exploded around me.
***
I was in my private meeting chambers. The walls around me were pure white with silver filigree inlaid throughout. I sat in a large, comfortable white chair, and in front of me, the brogawin Telger, stood on his own chair, wringing his hands. When standing, the brogawin only came up to my knee, and standing on the chair still left his wrinkly brown head substantially below mine.
I considered Telger a friend and his obvious distress concerned me. Brogawins were excitable by nature, but now Telger talked so fast, I could barely understand what he said. Something about shadows was all I managed to catch.
I tried to reassure him. “Please be calm, Telger. Take a deep breath and tell me again about these shadows.”
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