by Amy Ignatow
“I’m sure your dad will be there to protect her if Mr. Friend shows up,” Cookie said. Nick started running faster and she picked up her pace to keep up. What were they going to do to Mr. Friend? Tackle him? Cookie stopped running, took out her phone, and called 911. Farshad and Nick stopped.
“Is now really the time to make calls?” Nick asked.
“There’s a crazy man outside threatening us and we’re really afraid!” she told the emergency dispatcher, giving the address that Mr. Friend had unwittingly transmitted to her brain. “He’s only wearing a jacket and a hospital gown!”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” she heard Farshad mutter. Because I’m smart, she thought. In control. Solving all the world’s problems, one phone call at a time. They started running again, and a police cruiser followed by a screaming fire engine passed them as they rounded the corner onto Nick’s block.
Mr. Friend was in front of Nick’s house, just as she knew he would be, and smoke was billowing out of two of the windows on the second floor. Farshad stopped abruptly and put out his arm to stop Cookie. “Oh god,” she gasped as the firemen scrambled to hook up their gear. She looked to Nick, but he was gone.
“Where is he?” She looked around frantically and grasped Farshad’s arm. “Where did he go?”
“Nick!” Farshad yelled. “NICK!” He turned to Cookie. “Can you hear him?”
“No!” she said, and realized he was asking if she could hear Nick’s thoughts. She closed her eyes. Nothing. She opened them to see Mr. Friend running toward them. His face was streaked with soot and tears.
“RUN!” he screamed at them. “They’re coming! RUN AND HIDE!!!”
Cookie screamed and Farshad stepped in front of her, holding his thumbs up in front of him. Mr. Friend stopped and looked at him quizzically. The three stood for a moment, staring at one another, until a horse appeared out of nowhere, galloping at them with what seemed like incredible speed. Cookie grabbed Farshad and pulled them both out of the way as a man jumped off the horse and tackled Mr. Friend to the ground.
As he fell, a nearby tree erupted in flames, and Cookie took off down the street with Farshad at her heels. They ducked behind a house a few down from Nick’s house. Farshad began climbing the fence in the backyard.
“What was that?!?” Cookie yelled over the sounds of the sirens.
“I have no idea!” Farshad yelled back, his heart pounding in his ears as he bolted through someone’s backyard.
“Where are we going?” Cookie yelled over the fence.
“Back to the house!”
“The house that’s on fire?” she asked incredulously as she jammed herself through a crack in the fence.
“We have to help Nick,” Farshad said, lithely jumping over another fence. She followed him, dodging someone’s patio furniture.
“How?” she asked, scrambling over another fence and landing in a pile of wet leaves on the other side. Her mother was going to kill her when she saw her clothes.
Farshad whirled around. “With these,” he said, holding out his thumbs again.
Cookie stared at him. “You’re going to stop a fire with your thumbs?” she asked. In her mind she saw the hallways of her school, and the door to the boys’ bathroom again. “STOP THAT.”
Farshad snickered and she resolved to find a way to block out his urinal thoughts and wipe that stupid smile off his face. She followed him over the last fence into Nick’s backyard, where Martina and Jay stood, staring at the smoke billowing out of the second-floor windows. Tears were pouring down Jay’s face and Martina was holding on to him. “I have to go in!!!” he was screaming. She was keeping him from running into the house.
“Shh shh shh,” Martina said, still holding tight to Jay. She looked at Cookie. “Nick’s mom ran back into the house to find him and we couldn’t stop her.”
Jay looked up at her and Farshad, his devastated face darting back and forth between them. “Where’s Nick?”
He’d heard his mother screaming his name, and the next thing he knew his lungs were filling with smoke and he couldn’t see. He began to cough.
“NICK?” his mom managed to yell through her own coughing. He saw her stumbling through the smoke and grabbed her arms. He had her. He had to get her out.
He had no memory of getting in. Had he teleported that far? From the side of the road into a burning house? If he had been able to teleport in, he could teleport out. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ve got you,” he wheezed, and concentrated as hard as he could on his front sidewalk. Soon they’d be safe.
“Sweetie, we have to get out!” his mother gasped, tugging at his arm. They hadn’t moved. He couldn’t use his power to save her. Nick began to feel dizzy.
He felt someone’s hand on his back, shoving him through the smoke. Nick grabbed his mother and together they stumbled through the house toward the back door. It was only after firefighters with masks began to pour into the house that the pressure on Nick’s back let up.
There was no one behind him.
The firefighters helped them to get out into the relief of the fresh air, where Nick doubled over and threw up on his mom’s decorative garden gnome. He hadn’t yet wiped his mouth when he was tackled by a sobbing Jay.
“I’m sorry!” Jay wailed as the paramedics extricated Nick from his embrace. They strapped Nick to a gurney and put an oxygen mask on his face, but in moments Jay was back at Nick’s side. Nick smiled through his mask. Four burly first responders couldn’t contain Jay Carpenter. Who really had the superpowers? He reached out his hand to comfort his friend.
Jay grasped it. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he whispered into Nick’s ear. “I’m so sorry, Nick, old man.” Jay’s voice caught and he began crying again. “I tried to tell her that you weren’t in there and I couldn’t stop her, and I heard her screaming your name and I’M SO SORRY, NICK, I’M SO SO SO SORRY . . .”
Nick looked over to where his mother was lying on a gurney. She had been in the house longer than him and didn’t look well. But she wasn’t burned. Could someone still die of smoke inhalation if they got out in time? Nick’s eyes brimmed with tears. He shouldn’t have sneaked out of the house. Then his mom wouldn’t have run back in looking for him.
“It’s going to be okay,” Nick said. His father’s words again. He sat up and looked at his house. Firefighters were walking in and out, so it probably wasn’t still on fire. He wondered how many of his dad’s things had been damaged. His mom was going to be a mess. Nick looked to Farshad and beckoned him over. Cookie came, too.
“Where’s Mr. Friend?” Nick asked in a low voice as soon as they were close.
“We don’t know,” Farshad said worriedly. “Someone . . . grabbed him.”
“What do you mean, ‘grabbed him’?” Nick asked. “How? Who?”
Cookie leaned in. “I think it might have been the Amish kid from the crash.” She whispered, “He was on a horse.”
Nick looked at Farshad, who nodded. “It came right at us, and the guy just jumped off and tackled Mr. Friend and we ran.”
Jay looked at Cookie, his eyes red and puffy from crying. “Thank god you’re okay,” he said, throwing his arms around her. Cookie’s eyes widened in shock and her body went completely stiff.
“What. Is. Happening,” she said.
Farshad, who had been looking pretty grim, stifled a smile.
A pretty, young paramedic with freckles and red hair came and shooed them away, explaining that they were taking Nick and his mother to the hospital to make certain that they were all right. Jay ignored her and climbed into the back of the ambulance with Nick. “Are you family?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes,” Jay said. She eyed him and Nick. “I am,” Jay insisted, “and if you don’t let me go to the hospital with my brother, I will run alongside the ambulance the entire way, screaming like a banshee. No one wants that.”
The paramedic stared at him, seemed to do a quick mental calculation of the value of fighting him, and shrugged her shoulders. Fi
ve minutes later they were on the road, Jay uncharacteristically silent.
“How bad do you think the house was?” Nick asked him.
“I think it was probably mostly just smoke damage,” Jay said. “We couldn’t even tell where the fire started.”
“So what happened?”
Jay closed his eyes. “The doorbell rang and then Martina—who, by the way, is really stellar; I don’t know why we haven’t been friends for years—and I heard Angela talking to someone. Mr. Friend. He sounded very put out. And then your smoke alarms went off, the house started filling with smoke, and we ran out.” He swallowed hard. “And when your mom saw that you weren’t with us, she ran back in. We tried to tell her that you weren’t inside but she wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t stop her.” He started to cry again. “Thank god you showed up in time and were able to find her. I wish I’d had the courage to run into a burning building.”
Nick glanced at the paramedic, who was looking out the back window. “Actually,” he said in a low voice, “I didn’t run in.”
Jay looked confused “You walked in?”
“No.”
“You waltzed in?”
“No.”
“You moseyed in?”
“No.”
“Rode a horse in.”
“Definitely not.”
“Boogied in.”
“When have I ever boogied anywhere? Think for a moment about how I might have gotten into the house.”
Jay thought for a moment. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Did you mean to?”
“No.”
Jay straightened up, his eyes twinkling, and he looked like his old self again. “Still, old man, this is a phenomenal development. Now that you know it’s possible, you can do it again. Hopefully without the imminent destruction of your home and family as an impetus.” He grinned. “We have so much work to do!”
Nick closed his eyes. His head was throbbing. “Can we not think about it right now?”
Jay stopped smiling. “But we must.”
“Now?”
“Well,” Jay said delicately, “where’s Mr. Friend?”
After the ambulance drove off, Farshad, Cookie, and Martina walked back to the road, none of them saying a word. Farshad felt both exhausted and wired, and he knew he would never get to sleep that night even if he tried. He really didn’t want to think about going to bed, because that would mean going home and explaining to his parents why he disappeared, and lying to them again . . . Eventually, he was going to have to face them. But not yet.
“Okay,” Cookie said, looking up from her phone.
“Okay, what?” Farshad asked.
“You were figuring out how to get to the hospital from here. I am not ready to go home, so let’s all go. Okay?” she said, setting off in the direction of the hospital.
Farshad looked at Martina, whose eyes were brown again.
“Sure,” she said, and set off after Cookie. Farshad sighed and followed.
They took the long way, sticking to the side streets. No one talked much. Cookie wasn’t looking at Farshad, but as they walked he noticed her jaw tensing up every time he tried to figure out which street to take. Martina walked calmly alongside them, as if their worlds hadn’t been completely flipped upside down.
“Look,” she said as the residential homes gave way to commercial buildings in Muellersville’s small shopping district. “The ice cream parlor is open.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Cookie asked, not looking up from her phone.
“Everyone was panicking about the fires,” Martina said. “It’s nice to see them open. Should we get some ice cream?”
“Are you kidding?” Cookie asked.
“No.” Martina looked perplexed. “Do people joke about wanting ice cream?”
“I think she’s wondering if now is the right time to have ice cream,” Farshad explained. Martina reminded him a little of some of his older Iranian relatives. Whenever they visited Muellersville, some things had to be explained, like why the town sometimes smelled like cows and how you shouldn’t take photos of the Amish. Martina was like a visitor from a foreign land.
“Why not?” Martina asked. “Ice cream is delicious and might make us feel better.”
Farshad’s stomach was grumbling. He looked at Cookie. She was biting her lip.
“Okay. It’s not like we can do anything at the hospital besides waiting,” she said.
Ten minutes later, Farshad found himself sitting in an empty ice cream parlor with one girl who up until a little while ago he had considered to be his sworn enemy, and another whose eyes kept changing color. Martina was eating a mint chocolate chip cone, Farshad had a swirl of soft-serve chocolate and vanilla, and Cookie opted for a small cup of pistachio ice cream.
“Really?” Farshad had asked when she made her order.
“What?” Cookie snapped. “Was I supposed to get cookies ’n’ cream?”
“Well . . .” Farshad didn’t actually know what he’d expected her to get.
“I can like different things.”
“Okay.”
“I’m multifaceted.”
“This is nice,” Martina said, sighing happily. “I’ve never had ice cream with friends before.”
Farshad and Cookie exchanged a look, which was interrupted by the sound of the ice cream parlor door opening. Cookie stopped eating. “Farts,” she whispered.
Farshad looked up to see Emma Lee and her family coming into the shop. Emma’s little brother was dragging her toward the counter. “Come on, come on!” he demanded. Emma walked right past them. Cookie put her hand over her eyes as if she were avoiding looking into the sun.
“Hey, I know her,” Martina said. “She goes to our school and laughs at people when they get hurt.”
Farshad looked at Cookie. She must have known that hiding her eyes wasn’t going to camouflage her. If Emma looked at them, she was bound to see the only black girl in all of Muellersville sitting with the only Terror Boy in all of Muellersville. He almost felt sorry for her.
The Lee family ordered their ice creams to go and were heading back out the door when Emma glanced over at their table. Her mouth dropped open. “Cookie?” she asked.
“Come ON,” Emma’s little brother growled as he dragged her out of the parlor. “It’s going to be all melty by the time we get home if you don’t come on already!” And they were gone.
“Terrific,” Cookie said. “Just great.” She looked like she was about to start crying.
“What’s wrong?” Martina asked.
Cookie shook her head.
“She’s just upset because Emma Lee saw her eating with us,” Farshad explained.
“Oh.” Martina thought about it for a moment. “Is it because you’re eating pistachio ice cream and that’s weird?”
“No, it’s because Emma Lee is going to tell everyone that the great and mighty Cookie Parker is now a big old loser who hangs out with other big old losers,” Farshad said, shooting a hard look at Cookie. She looked up at him as if she were about to argue, but then fell silent and looked back down at her ice cream.
“Oh,” Martina said. “I think my feelings might be hurt.”
Cookie pushed her ice cream away. “You’re not a loser,” she said weakly. “Emma Lee is the biggest blabbermouth in school,” she went on, “and I just don’t need her spreading rumors about me.”
“Like you spread rumors about, oh, everyone?” Farshad snapped.
Cookie thought for a moment. “Yeah,” she said.
Farshad felt depleted. It was unsettling to hear her agree with him after he’d ripped into her. She looked troubled, and everyone at the table was silent for a minute.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, looking at Farshad. “I’m really sorry.”
Of all the things that Farshad had ever imagined would come out of Cookie Parker’s mouth, an apology was not one of them. He felt embarras
sed. “It’s okay,” he mumbled.
“It’s not and you know it,” she said. “I’m sorry for all the things I said about you.”
“What did you say about him?” Martina asked.
Farshad took a deep breath. “She’s been telling everyone that I’m a terrorist.”
Martina started to laugh. Cookie and Farshad stared at her, and she laughed harder, until she was clutching her sides. “Really?” She kept laughing. “And people believed you? That’s ridiculous! Who would believe that?”
“Pretty much everyone,” Cookie admitted, which sent Martina into another laughing fit.
“Wait, wait,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “So you managed to convince pretty much everyone that a twelve-year-old is a terrorist, and you’re worried about what Emma Lee will say about you? You could just tell everyone that she’s a terrorist. Or a vampire! Or a unicorn! Or you could convince pretty much everyone that Farshad is a secret government double agent! Or a space alien.” Martina’s eyes turned a silvery gray. “You really don’t know your own power.”
“I like that,” Farshad said. “Tell everyone I’m a space alien.”
Cookie scowled. “That’s stupid.”
“Go on,” Martina said. “Tell me that Farshad is a space alien.”
“No.”
“Go ahead,” Farshad said.
Cookie took a deep breath. “Fine. Farshad is a space alien.”
“I believe you!” Martina exclaimed, and Farshad found himself laughing with her. Cookie stared at them for a moment before giving in and joining the laughter. “Today has been so weird,” she said when they’d all calmed down.
“Like your love of pistachio ice cream,” Martina said, giggling a little to herself. Farshad laughed. Cookie put her hand to her temple and stopped eating.
Farshad recognized that look. “Is it Mr. Friend?”
“No,” Cookie said, standing up. “But someone is trying to find Nick at the hospital.”
“Let’s go,” Farshad said.
Nick sat in the chair next to his mother’s hospital bed and watched her sleep. It was an all-too-familiar scene for him, only this time there were far fewer beeping machines and tubes and wires. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t sick, that she was just resting. She was going to be fine.