Squint

by Chad Morris

  And then everything changed.

  Light blasted from beneath Squint’s eyepatch, a huge thick stream of it. The light pummeled Gunn, throttling him to near the edge of the cliff.

  “What was that?” Traz asked, whirling around.

  Squint didn’t know, but he didn’t stop to ask questions. He screamed again, but this time light blasted out of both his eyes and slammed into Traz.

  What was happening?

  All of the Centurions focused on him. But the light wouldn’t stop. Squint felt it run down his arms, and he shot it out his fingers. Then again out his other hand. Light was pouring out of him in powerful streams. Each time one of the Centurions tried to mount a counterattack, Squint pummeled them with light.

  It was four on one, but the one was winning.

  Until Traz took another shot, letting Lash sneak up on Squint from behind.

  She whipped around his neck.

  But then Lash went down.

  Squint turned to see Diamond, still fighting even without all of her diamond shield.

  “I guess you don’t need a shield to be invincible,” Squint said.

  Diamond smiled. “You’re glowing,” she said.

  And Squint was. His eyes were a brilliant white and his limbs nearly burned with light. “I don’t know how,” he said. “It’s like it’s in me.”

  A howl.

  That was their signal.

  Their plan had worked. While they were fighting, Rock had found the Empress and brought her to a hidden crevasse in the rock, where she could wait until they could safely take her from the island.

  McKell flipped over the last page. “Amazing,” she said. “I mean, there was a ton of fighting, which I guess you need in comic books, but you did great work.”

  “Thanks,” I said. It almost felt magical. McKell reading my comic inside the plant cave.

  “Seriously good work,” she said, nodding. I cursed my stupid eye that blurred my vision and didn’t let me see clearly how excited she really was. “I don’t know what kind of competition you’re up against for the contest, but you’ve got to have a good chance.”

  I’m sure I smiled huge.

  “I liked all the light Squint shot out,” she said.

  “I do too,” I said. “What about Diamond? What did you think of her?”

  “I guess she’s invincible,” she said. “More than even she thought.”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  She shifted on the ground and carefully set my comic sheets on top of my portfolio. “You know it’s not us versus them,” she said. “Right?”

  I looked at her for a while. “Maybe,” I said.

  “And that I’m not Diamond,” she said. “I’m no hero.” She picked up a branch off the ground.

  “I know,” I said. “She’s just made up. You’re better.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, drawing on the ground with the stick. “I couldn’t even finish—”

  “Look,” I said. “I’m not Squint either. But it—”

  “I didn’t do anything in real life,” she said. “I couldn’t even finish Danny’s challenges.” She dug the branch into the ground.

  “You did a lot of them,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You tried,” I said.

  “That’s not good enough,” she said, dropping her stick. “I didn’t try his challenges until it was too late. I didn’t even sing in the audition.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But you did . . .” I tried to think of how to say it. I couldn’t think of the words. Rambling crazy me couldn’t think of what to say. “Did you notice that in my story, Diamond always seems to be doing the same thing?”

  “What?” McKell said. “Punching people with her awesome diamond hands?” She mimicked a punch.

  “No,” I said. “Well, yes, but she’s always . . .” I trailed off for a second, something caught in my throat. “She’s always,” I started over again, “saving Squint.”

  I was quiet for a moment, hoping that would sink in.

  “Maybe you didn’t do everything you hoped for,” I said. “But you did eat lunch with a lonely kid. And—” I couldn’t help it. Tears welled up in my eyes. “And—”

  “Squint—” she started.

  “No,” I said. “Let me say this. I just . . . I don’t know how. You know I ramble, but you were super brave and showed me you. And you’re really cool. You should be proud of you. I like you. And because of you I have a friend for the first time in a very long time. And I started to care for the first time in a long time. And . . . I don’t know how to say this kind of stuff.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I just—”

  “I need to get this out. I just think you’re on the right trail. You won me over. You keep doing this, just being you and reaching out to people like you did to me and . . .”

  My blurry eye didn’t let me completely see her, and the tears didn’t help either. But it kind of helped me speak my mind.

  “Stop,” McKell said.

  “No,” I said. “I have one more thing to say. I’m not Danny. I’m not even close. But I’m proud of you.” I took a deep breath. “And I can only imagine Danny is too.”

  She looked at me and tears welled up in her eyes too. “But I didn’t finish,” she said.

  “All I know is that I have a friend for the first time in a very long time,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.” I swallowed. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for being my friend back,” she said. “Sorry that I didn’t always hang out with—”

  “No worries,” I said. “And . . . if you want to try to finish the challenges, I have an idea.”

  “I already tried,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “What if I thought of a way that you could show everyone your awesome rhyming, your ukulele playing, but you don’t have to go on a stage?”

  Her face softened. “I don’t know what you’re even saying, but I don’t know if I’m willing to risk it.”

  “What if I risk it with you?” I said. “You’re the only one I’ve ever shown my drawings to. Well, except my grandma and grandpa. And Gavin and the others saw them and made fun of them pretty good. So I’m kind of terrified of anyone else seeing them.”

  I told her my idea. I didn’t present it very well—I rambled more than I should have, but she didn’t seem to hate it.

  “That’s a lot of work for a kid who should be resting his eyes,” McKell said.

  “It’d be worth it.”

  She looked at my red eye for a moment. One friend looking at another friend in a plant cave where they had laughed and cried together. “If we do this,” she finally said, “I think I’d want to put together a different song.”

  “So . . . you’ll try?” I asked.

  “I said, if,” she said.

  “And?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Look,” I said. “My eye might be going, but I’d really love to see you do this.”

  I was supposed to be in the auditorium with McKell. I told her I’d meet her there. A week had passed since I pitched my idea, and it turned out to be barely enough time. I hoped ­people would like it.

  But I was sweating for a different reason.

  I felt like Squint, basically picking a fight with the four other Centurions. But this time I didn’t have Rock sneaking in, and I didn’t have Diamond watching my back. I was completely alone.

  I looked over at Gavin, Travis, Chloe, and Emma walking together toward the assembly. I took a deep breath.

  With every step closer to them, I felt less and less like a hero.

  Could I really do this? But I thought of what was on the line. “Hey,” I said.

  No one stopped.

  “Hey, Gavin,” I said louder
and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Gavin looked over, then did a double take when he saw who it was. “Hey, Squint.” He wrinkled his brow.

  “I miss the patch,” Travis said. “Dread Pirate Four-Eyes,” he said in his pirate voice. “Can you bring it back? I had so much more material.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “My eyes are doing okay.” And thankfully they were. Over the last week, the drops seemed to be doing their job. It was still a little early to tell, but the doctor was optimistic. Of course, my left eye still had its problems, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as my right eye had been.

  Chloe and Emma watched silently.

  “Gavin, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked.

  I had a theory. McKell had been so different when she wasn’t with everyone else. Maybe that was true with other people too. Maybe that was a middle-school rule. Maybe when people didn’t feel like they had to look cool for everyone else, they might be a little different. Maybe I could talk to the Gavin who used to share his Doritos with me at lunch and would invite me over for pick-up games. The Gavin who ran and got the coach when I sprained my ankle in peewee football. He had to be in there too. But I could totally get the Gavin who called me names in the halls and made fun of my comics instead.

  “Why?” Gavin said.

  I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I just hoped he didn’t pull out a fireball bazooka and blast me into oblivion. “Please?” I asked. “Just for a second.”

  He looked at his friends. Travis shrugged. Emma and Chloe started talking to each other, probably about how strange I was.

  “I guess,” Gavin said, in a tone that made it clear that he was humoring a crazy kid. He slowed and we walked a little behind the group.

  I had thought so much about this, coming up with countless versions of our dialogue, but I still felt completely unprepared. Just about every way I could say this could blow up in my face. Or it just wouldn’t work.

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “I have a favor to ask you,” Gavin said. “Quit asking for favors.” He laughed to himself, but with his other friends watching from a distance, they didn’t hear the joke and his laugh died out quickly. Maybe getting him away from them had worked a little.

  “I need you to talk to the others for me.” I kept going. “McKell is going to do something really brave today. And not that she needs your approval or anything, but if you didn’t make fun of her I think that would be . . .” It sounded stupid coming out of my mouth.

  “Like in the talent show?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just don’t—”

  “I got it,” he said.

  “I mean it, though.”

  “I heard you,” Gavin said and started to walk back.

  “Wait,” I said. “Are you going to—”

  “I don’t know,” Gavin said. “I’ll watch it. Maybe I’ll tease her a little if it’s stupid, but I tease everyone. It’s not a big deal. Besides, she’s been ditching us to sit with you.”

  That was true. Every day for the last week. I hadn’t sat alone.

  Every day.

  “Sometimes teasing might be a big deal,” I said. “I mean, she’s had the talent the whole time she’s been here, but was afraid to show you.”

  Gavin looked at me for a moment then shook his head. “Why do you always look at me like I’m some sort of jerk?”

  I wasn’t expecting that. “Um . . .” How honest should I be here? Was this another setup? If I wanted his help, what should I say? For some reason, I decided to tell him the truth. “Because you make mean jokes about me. Because you make fun of my comics. You make me feel like I’m an idiot for having eye problems and wearing an eye patch. You called my house a shack.”

  “C’mon,” Gavin said, interrupting. “I’m just messing around. Learn to take a joke.”

  Did he really think he was just joking around? That I was the one with the problem? Could he really not see how big of a jerk he was?

  “This is what I’m talking about, Gavin,” I said. “Sometimes the things you and your friends say to me . . .” I tried to find the words. “They . . . haunt me. Like I can’t stop thinking about them. Like I wonder if there is a reason why no one’s ever called me cute before. Or if my comics really are stupid. Or if . . . well, even more than that.”

  He stared for a moment. “But you used to be different,” he said. “You used to tease back. We used to hang out. You used to be fun. Then you stopped.”

  Wait. Was he blaming me for our friendship ending? That I ditched him?

  “But I’m not mean,” I said.

  “Sometimes silence is mean,” he said. “Ignoring me is mean.” He spat out the words. He had some feelings behind this.

  Maybe I had somehow hurt him. I hadn’t seen that coming. There was no way I would have thought that just trying to stay out of Gavin’s way would bother him. In fact, I didn’t think anything bothered him.

  “I . . .” What should I say? “Just know that what you say can hurt people,” I said. “And McKell is nervous. Try not to hurt her. Or, I guess, even if you joke, make sure it’s clear that you’re on her side.” I swallowed. “If you are.”

  “She’s kind of ditched us,” Gavin said. “Like you.”

  And then he walked away.

  That definitely wasn’t how I hoped this would go.

  I sat in the auditorium next to McKell. It was the day she had hoped to be able to be backstage, warming up on her ukulele. About to sing one of her own songs. About to make her brother proud. But she was going to be sitting in the audience with me. She hadn’t even brought her uke. But we were both nervous.

  Super nervous.

  We sat in the back corner. If it didn’t go well, we could make a quick getaway.

  “Thanks for all your work,” she said. “And for your idea.”

  I smiled. “No problem.”

  “Danny would have liked you,” she said.

  I shrugged. “Danny liked everyone.”

  “True,” she said. “But he would have really liked you.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about my talk with Gavin. He really couldn’t see how mean he was. Was I the same? Was I blind to ways I was mean? I was going to have to think about that. I still hoped he wouldn’t make fun of McKell. I could take the teasing. I was kind of used to it. But I didn’t want him messing with McKell.

  We sat through the first acts. Caleb did his yo-yo. JanaLee did her peaceful piano thing. There was a rock band that was a bit too loud to understand, and a bunch of boys came out and flexed and sort of danced to some pretty fast music. I’m not really sure what their talent was, but they had a lot of energy. After each act, I think my heart rate doubled. We were getting closer. It was almost our time.

  I had no idea how it would go over. I imagined Gavin laughing and yelling out, “What is this?”

  Travis would say something like, “How did this even get into the show?”

  Chloe would ask, “Did anyone ever tell them that they were talented before?”

  And Emma would roll her eyes.

  I shook my head. At this point, it was happening.

  Both of the student announcers came out on the stage again. The boy, Jared, I think, tried to crack a joke about all the energy the last act had. He didn’t really say it right and it didn’t get many laughs. He smiled anyway.

  “This next act,” the girl announcer, Hillary, said, “is a song that was written by someone at our school.”

  This was it.

  McKell clutched at my arm like we were about to go over the first hill of a roller-coaster.

  “Ouch,” I said, her fingers digging into my arm.

  “Sorry,” she said, and let up, but still wouldn’t let go.

  The curtain opened and the large screen slowly started to descend.

  “Yep,” Jared
said into his microphone. “McKell Panganiban wrote and will perform her own song.” I think he pronounced every vowel wrong in her last name. Totally butchered it. But McKell didn’t seem to care.

  “With a little help from some art by Flint Minett,” Hillary added. It felt so weird to hear my name over the speaker system, especially my real name.

  More thoughts of what Gavin and the others could be saying filled my brain.

  “And some video editing by a guy named Yellow,” Jared said. He looked offstage. “Is that the right name?” He wasn’t speaking in the microphone, but I could still hear his question. “Yes,” he said. “That is his name. The song is called ‘Invincible.’”

  The audience gave the same half-hearted applause they gave to most acts before they started.

  The video flashed on and focused on McKell’s hand strumming a ukulele. Beside it, hand-drawn musical notes came out and floated across the screen. Thanks to Yellow, we had combined McKell’s music with my drawing. And thankfully, Mrs. Lin and Mr. Mueller were kind enough to let us enter the video in late. I’m sure Mrs. Lin was extra lenient because of how sick McKell had been when she auditioned.

  McKell’s smooth voice echoed over the sound system.

  If I was covered, almost smothered in steel, I’d be real . . . invincible.

  A picture of a girl covered in steel crossed the screen. I’d made her look kind of like a female Colossus.

  No one could attack, and crack how I feel, real invincible.

  With each beat, either a picture or a written word flashed. I focused on the word invincible this time. All the drawings had taken a decent amount of time, but Yellow made them flash in perfect time. I know he had to work really hard to make it happen.

  Now the video backed out to show McKell. She sat on a stool in her room, wearing some makeup. It was simple, nothing like Grandma’s. And her hair was curled a little. She looked great. And her voice sounded fantastic. Like something you would hear on the radio.

  Hard like a diamond and strong like a lion, invincible.

  My pictures of Diamond flashed across the screen. I still really liked that character. Of course a lion followed. That had taken some time.

  Just be me, never care what others think. Invincible.