by Obert Skye
To avoid ridicule, Leven would always wear the T-shirts inside out so the decal wasn’t as noticeable. Of course this infuriated Addy, who thought it was a slap in the face to all the hard work she put in to support the family. So Leven had to remember to always turn his shirt inside out before arriving at school and reverse it before he got home at night.
Thanks to Clover, in the last few days Leven’s life had changed dramatically. In Clover, Leven had found both friendship and an affirmation that something more was out there. Leven had learned a few things about Clover and where he had come from, but for the most part the furry little guy remained tight-lipped whenever it came to discussing the task and future that lay ahead of them.
“You have to tell me what’s going to happen,” Leven said as they climbed down through the rocks that lined the steep ditch at the edge of the prairie. “And if you’re not from here, then where? Another planet?”
“Don’t do this,” Clover said, rubbing his own bare left elbow. “I am bound to keep the secret.”
“How do I know that you’re not just some made-up part of my imagination?”
Clover stopped climbing. His leaf-like ears fluttered. He looked at Leven as if he had been wounded.
“I’m sorry,” Leven said. “I shouldn’t say things like that.”
“I would love to tell you everything I know,” Clover explained again, “but I am bound. I can tell you this, though,” Clover said, looking carefully around, “it’s getting close.”
Leven picked up a small rock and looked at it. “You’ve said that already. What’s getting close?” he asked.
“I’ve been with you for fourteen years. Of course, I had to wait a while before you were born for you to get here. But I can tell now that the time is close,” Clover affirmed, taking the rock from Leven’s hand and looking at it. “During all those years I have known that someday we would go. And now I know that someday is near.”
Clover reached into the front pocket of his robe. Leven was pretty amazed by Clover. He was, after all, a twelve-inch-tall furry creature with wet eyes and a huge smile who was supposed to serve him, but was usually too busy telling stories or marveling over rocks and leaves to attend to Leven’s immediate needs. As interesting as Clover was, it was the pocket on the robe he wore that fascinated Leven most. Clover called it a void.
“My mother stitched it on when I was seventy-two,” he had explained.
Void was a perfect name for the pocket, seeing how there appeared to be an endless capacity to it. Clover was constantly pulling things out of it. Books, small toys, an array of useful tools, and even a kite. And those were just the things Leven recognized. Clover had pulled out many things Leven had never heard of or could never have imagined even if he had tried. The pocket also held an unlimited store of food and candy. Clover was always chewing or sucking on some kind of weird treat he had apparently stocked enough of to last over all the years he had been here.
“Mupe?” Clover asked, holding out to Leven what looked to be a purple rock.
“What’s mupe?” Leven asked.
“Just try it,” Clover smiled. “Back home it’s very popular candy.”
Leven stuck the purple thing in his mouth and bit down. It tasted like honeyed, cooked wheat. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t candy. “This stuff is popular?” Leven asked in amazement.
“It’s kind of fun,” Clover said, skipping.
“What’s fun about—?” Leven’s mouth started to feel sticky. He tried to open it wide, but it felt as if his tongue were glued to both the roof and bottom of his mouth. At the same time his vision went weird. He could see in what seemed to be two different directions and a unpleasant odor filled his nostrils.
Clover was looking at him and laughing. “Wow! That was a strong piece of mupe.”
“What do you mean?” Leven asked, talking out of the side of his head. He threw his hands up to his face and realized that his mouth was not where it had been. He touched his face frantically. He found his mouth on the side of his head where his right ear used to be. One eye was where the other ear used to be, and the other eye was underneath his chin. He yelled, and almost broke the eardrum of the ear that was in the hair right above his mouth. His streak of white hair had moved to the top of his right hand.
“Best I’ve ever had was an ear on my elbow,” Clover said enviously. He looked at the wrapper. “Oh, this pack has ‘Extra Feature Fission’.”
“What do I do?” Leven hollered.
“It’ll wear off in a moment,” Clover said, as if disappointed.
“What’s that smell?” Leven asked. “Where’s my nose?” Leven began to touch his arms and stomach trying to find his nose. He sniffed. “Oh, great,” he complained. He sat down and hurriedly untied his left shoelace. He threw the shoe off and pulled off the sock. Leven’s nose was sticking out from between his big toe and the next in line.
Clover was quite amused, “I wish I had a camera,” he said, as if he were a parent, wanting to capture the image of a well-groomed son going off for the first day of school.
Leven was happy Clover didn’t have one. He could only imagine how odd he must look. In a few moments, the effect of the candy slowly began to wear off. Leven could see his nose sliding up his leg and over his body as it migrated north. His ears sprang back into their places, and his eyes circled around his mouth and returned to their rightful spots.
“Am I normal?” Leven asked, feeling around to know for himself.
“Yes,” Clover said sadly.
“Don’t give me anything like that ever again,” Leven said seriously.
Clover looked hurt. “I’m not the best sycophant,” he admitted.
Leven couldn’t stand to see Clover feel sad. “It’s all right,” Leven sighed, patting Clover on the head. “Besides, I’m glad you’re around.”
Clover smiled. “Me, too,” he added sincerely, happy to move on to other subjects. He stopped, looked at his little right foot, pulled out a pebble from between his toes, and smiled.
“I’m sure whatever happens next, we’ll be fine,” Leven said.
“Let’s hope so.”
“I mean, I shouldn’t worry with you around,” Leven said, setting Clover up. He wanted to see if he could trick Clover into telling him more.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Clover sniffed proudly. “It’ll be fun.”
“So where are we going again?” Leven asked, so casually that Clover fell for it.
“To Foo, of course. . . .” Clover caught himself, his eyes wide and frightened. “I mean, to wherever it is we will be going.”
“Foo?” Leven asked. “Did you say Foo?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Clover denied. “I was just muttering.”
“What’s Foo?”
“Foo’s nothing,” Clover insisted. “I was talking about food.”
“We’ll go to food someday?” Leven said sarcastically.
“Right,” Clover tried to say with conviction. “We’ll get some food someday.”
“Foo.” Leven said to himself as he slid down a big rock and stepped across the shallow stream, avoiding the water. “Is it a building?”
“No,” Clover adamantly answered, placing his small furry feet into the stream. The current was almost strong enough to pull him down. He braced himself and smiled, proud to still be standing.
“But is it—”
“I’ll disappear,” Clover warned, lifting his hood as if to put it on.
“Forget it, then,” Leven quickly said. Leven couldn’t stand it when Clover just disappeared. It was impossible to see or find him once he was gone. “Maybe you’re not such a good sycophant after all. I thought you were supposed to do my bidding,” Leven joked.
“I try, but whatever I do I just can’t help thinking of myself a little.”
“I don’t see why you can’t just tell me what’s coming,” Leven sighed. “You make it sound urgent, and then we spend our days doing nothing. I promise I won’t tell anyone.
It’s not like I have anyone to talk—”
Leven stopped speaking due to the sudden appearance of Brick, the official school, neighborhood, and all-around-town bully. Standing next to Brick in the stream bed was Brick’s pale, rich friend, Glen. The two of them had been out shooting cans and prairie dogs with their BB guns.
“Who you talking to, Skunk?” Brick laughed at Leven, making fun of the white streak in his hair. “Playing make-believe?”
Leven looked quickly to see if Clover was still in sight. He was gone. “I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Leven insisted, looking Brick in the eye.
Leven tried to move past the two of them.
“Not so fast,” Brick sneered, holding out his arm to prevent Leven from passing. “This is our field. Me and Glen don’t like it when others trespass. Isn’t that right, Glen?” Brick asked.
“Can’t stand it,” Glen said meanly, pumping the lever on his BB gun. “I mean, what’s the world coming to when just anyone can come onto our field?”
Brick pumped his gun, smiling cruelly.
Leven tried to keep going, but Brick jabbed Leven’s shoulder with the barrel of his BB gun.
Leven grabbed his shoulder in pain. “It’s not your field,” he protested, a strange, confident feeling beginning to creep over him.
Brick jabbed Leven even harder. This time Leven stumbled, slipping on a rock and sprawling on his back in the water.
For as long as he could remember, Leven had been uneasy around water. He frequently dreamed of drowning and often woke up in the middle of the night choking and gasping for breath. Now here he was, soaking in a stream after being pushed down by the barrel of a BB gun.
Brick and Glen laughed like they had never seen anything funnier.
Leven scrambled up out of the water. He was surprised. He wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t scared. In fact, he was remarkably calm. As he watched Brick laughing, thoughts formed in his mind. They weren’t thoughts such as I wonder what I’ll have for lunch, or I think green is my favorite color. They were thoughts so strong and so focused it was almost as if he could see the future. He pictured lightning coming down from the darkened, cloudy sky. And there, suddenly, was a bolt of it, striking the ground no more than a hundred feet away. The flash was blinding and the sound deafening, and Brick and Glen screamed and fell over on their backs in the stream bed.
Leven steadied himself. He looked at Brick and Glen cowering in fear and was amazed.
He envisioned another bolt of lightning, and once more a brilliant scratch of light shimmered and crackled just beyond Glen and Brick.
The sound shook the earth.
Their previous screams were nothing compared to the ones Brick and Glen were now emitting as they began scrambling on their stomachs up the bank and away from Leven and back toward the mobile home park. Leven envisioned lightning chasing them all the way home and, amazingly, that was exactly what happened. One after another, lightning bolts struck the earth directly behind them as they scuttled on their stomachs, crying hysterically and trying to cover their heads with their hands. They had both abandoned their BB guns and were scraping their knees and hands something fierce as they crawled frantically across the dry prairie.
Leven watched them squirm under the mobile home park fence. Astounded by what he had been able to do, he gaped after them in awe. He looked to the far distance, beyond the park and past the town water tower. He pictured a bolt of lightning and watched in wonder as it flashed out of the cloudy sky. “Unbelievable,” he whispered to himself as the echo of it died down.
“Pretty neat,” Clover said, suddenly sitting on his left shoulder.
“Thanks for leaving me,” Leven half-joked.
“I knew you’d be okay.”
“Did you know I could do that?”
“I didn’t know what you could do,” Clover said, climbing onto the top of Leven’s head to get a better look at the now-vanished Brick and Glen. “They’re not so tough.” Clover shook a tiny fist in their direction.
“What do you mean you didn’t know what I could do?” Leven asked, still in awe over what had happened.
“All nits have a gift. You know, fire, flying, burrowing. Some sort of freaky talent that sets you apart from everyone else—weird breed.” Clover brushed the thick hair on his calves and sniffed, his leaf-like ears wiggling as he did so.
“Nits?” Leven asked, finding it odd that Clover would consider anyone else to be a weird breed.
“To be honest with you,” Clover said, ignoring Leven’s inquiry and climbing down off his head, “I had my doubts about you being the right one. I like you and all, but I was beginning to wonder.”
“The right one for what?”
Clover stared at him and smiled. “Do you think every boy here gets a sycophant?”
“No.”
“You have a purpose beyond any of these people out here. In fact, if you fail they’re all pretty much toast.” Clover picked up a rock that was about half his size and heaved it into the stream. He smiled at the splash it made.
“This is crazy,” Leven said, frowning and brushing his dark bangs back. “I am just a kid who lives in Oklahoma and is bad at math. I can’t save anyone or make lightning strike.”
“You just did.”
“That was a coincidence.”
“Stop it!” Clover said forcefully. “Don’t use those kinds of words around me.” His ears twisted and shook.
“What kinds of words?”
Clover looked around. “There are no coincidences,” he said sternly. “Sabine and his shadows would love you to believe that every small miracle you witness throughout the day is nothing more than a chance happening. But I know better. You should, too.” Clover looked wounded.
“I don’t know what I know anymore,” Leven said honestly.
The two of them waded out of the shallow stream. Leven climbed up the rocky bank onto the flat prairie and gazed off to the north. Nothing but horizon and sky. He walked toward the Rolling Greens Deluxe Mobile Home Park and picked up one of the BB guns that Brick and Glen had dropped. He held it to his shoulder and pointed the barrel into the empty distance. He pulled the trigger and a weak puff of air shot out. Clover found the other gun and ran it back to Leven. Leven waved it away, and Clover happily aimed it toward the sky and pulled the trigger. A little puff of air shot out and into the sky.
“Weird,” Clover said. “Is that supposed to scare someone?”
“They’re just toys,” Leven answered, his thoughts elsewhere. “So, do these nits have only one gift?”
“Usually.”
“And mine is to make lightning?”
“I guess,” Clover replied, smoothing down his little dress-like robe.
Leven looked to the north again and tried to envision lightning striking.
Nothing happened. He turned and thought of it coming down to the south.
Nothing.
He could feel his thoughts were different this time. They weren’t as clear or as focused as they had been before, when Brick and Glen were laughing at him. His mind wandered for a bit and then suddenly things solidified. He envisioned a huge hawk dropping from the sky, its talons extended, aimed right at Clover.
He quickly turned.
A huge raptor was swooping down right above Clover. Leven yelled at Clover to disappear and Clover did just that. The confused bird almost flew into the ground. Its talons brushed the earth as it pulled up and returned to the sky, turning its head to find any sign of the furry feast it had viewed just moments before.
“Clover?” Leven yelled.
“I’m right here,” he replied, materializing on Leven’s right shoulder.
Leven jumped. “I’ve told you not to do that.”
“Sorry,” he said casually. “How’d you know that bird was there?”
“I saw it before it happened,” Leven answered, confused.
“Unbelievable,” Clover whispered. “Your gift isn’t just lightning.”
“What is it then?”
“You’re not a nit, you’re an offing,” Clover said almost reverently.
“What’s an offing? Is that bad?”
“Oh, I wish Antsel was around to see this,” Clover lamented.
“See what?” Leven asked almost desperately.
“I can’t believe my burn is an offing,” he said with excitement.
“What does that mean?” Leven asked, frustrated.
“You can see the future,” Clover said enviously. “You have it in you to manipulate fate a bit. Offings can not only see the future, they can help make it turn out to their advantage. Your safety and dislike for those boys probably helped you pick that lightning’s striking point. You have a great gift, Lev, an extremely rare gift. I know of only one other who has it.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say.”
“I just saved your life,” Leven pointed out.
Clover waved. “That bird couldn’t have killed me,” he said confidently. “I told you there’s only one way for us sycophants to die.”
“How?” Leven tried.
“I’m not falling for that.” Clover smiled, his blue eyes squinting.
Leven smiled back.
“Imagine, little old Clover working for an offing,” he went on. “I wish I was somewhere where people could be envious.” Clover jumped off of Leven’s shoulder and skipped along the ground.
Leven picked up both guns and put them over his shoulder. He followed Clover back across the field toward home. In the far distance he could see the tree that shaded his house. He thought of Terry and Addy and Clover. He thought of the turns his life had taken recently. He tried to draw his thoughts in, but it was no use; some gift, he couldn’t see his own future.
Clover turned to Leven and smiled. “What are you thinking?” he asked merrily.
“I think it’s time for us to leave,” Leven replied, surprised to hear the words coming from his mouth. “We should think about getting out of this place.”
“Good.” Clover hopped. “I was thinking you’d never say that.”