The Adjusters

by Taylor, Andrew

  This caused laughter around the table. Henry found himself surreptitiously reaching to tuck his own shirt in.

  “We could start a poster campaign!” Stacy exclaimed.

  “I’ll get the football team to do uniform checks in the halls,” the quarterback added, cracking his knuckles.

  Henry looked at Blake, who grinned and took a bite of pizza. “It’s all about standards, Henry. Our crowd has to set the tone.”

  “Our crowd, right,” he replied, glancing down the table at Steve, who was whispering with one of his friends. “He doesn’t like me much.”

  “Don’t mind, Steve,” Blake said. “It’s just the way he’s put together. Suspicious of outsiders, but once he gets to know you—” He stopped at the sound of a crash from the other side of the hall.

  Henry looked round with the others. Near the food line a tall, skinny kid had dropped the contents of his tray on the floor. As they watched, the kid started walking in a circle around the pizza and fries on the floor, rubbing the side of his head vigorously with the palm of his hand, like there was something inside he wanted to get out. Silence fell over the hall as the kid stopped circling, reached down and grabbed a handful of fries from the floor and stuffed them into his mouth.

  “Jesus,” Henry said.

  Blake nodded to the other end of the table. Steve and two of the larger boys from the group rose and started across the hall to the kid, who was now on his hands and knees scooping up food from the floor and eating it.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Henry asked as they watched Steve and the others grab the kid. The boy gave no resistance, going limp like a rag doll as they pulled him towards the exit.

  “Tommy?” Blake said as the others turned back to their lunches as if nothing had happened. “He had an accident a few weeks ago.”

  “Accident?”

  Blake tapped the side of his head. “Got hit during football practice. Knocked something loose. Know what I mean? Steve will make sure he gets taken care of.”

  Henry raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, wondering what getting taken care of by Steve would entail. Unsettled, he finished his lunch quickly, made an excuse about having a book to pick up from the library and left the hall.

  It was chance that Henry’s first lesson after lunch took him right past the school medical room, but what happened next wasn’t. With the image of Tommy from the lunch hall still in his head, Henry found himself stopping in the corridor outside, when he should have been carrying on to class. What had happened to that kid? On impulse, Henry walked through the open door rather than carrying on by.

  Like everything else at Malcorp High, the medical facilities went way beyond the norm. “Can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked as he looked around. His attention fell on the door marked Recovery Room.

  Henry turned to see a pinch-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform staring at him from a reception desk.

  “I’m…I’m a friend of Tommy’s.”

  The nurse looked at him suspiciously. “He’s not here.”

  Thinking on his feet, Henry grabbed a textbook from his bag. “I’ve got his French homework from Mademoiselle Chabrol. I could just take it in…”

  “He’s been taken for observation. And who are you…?”

  “Thanks,” Henry said, ducking out the door.

  Aware of the nurse’s footsteps following him, he fast-walked down the corridor and turned the corner. Through the windows looking out over the front of the school, he saw a pair of white-uniformed orderlies loading a trolley onto the back of one of the medical centre buggies. Tommy was strapped onto the trolley, his skull wrapped in a bandage. He seemed to be conscious because his eyes were open, although they were blank, staring up at the sky as he was put in the buggy.

  Henry shook his head, even more unsettled. As he struggled to rationalize his thoughts, the feeling of being watched crept over him. He turned away from the window just in time to see someone disappear swiftly down to the other end of the corridor and round the corner.

  A hand fell on his shoulder and he started.

  “Woah!” Christian said, holding up his hands. “Jumpy!”

  Henry took a breath. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Can’t help it. Told you, I’m like a ninja.” He nodded through the window to where the buggy was pulling away. “Quite a scene in the lunch hall. Another member of the student body with a screw loose.”

  “He had a football injury,” Henry countered, desperately wanting to believe the story he’d been spun. “Probably concussion.”

  “Football injury?” Christian said incredulously. “Did he look like much of a footballer to you?”

  Henry thought back to the tall, lanky kid. Christian had a good point. And Henry couldn’t deny the bad feeling that was growing inside him. Taken by itself, the Tommy incident was just a little strange…but it wasn’t just that, was it? Bit by bit, this place was really starting to get to him: the odd behaviour of the kids in general, the fact most pupils seemed to be geniuses, and the way that Blake and his friends were at pains to make him think that everything was just swell at Malcorp. Just how weird does it have to get here before you start believing Christian might be right? he wondered.

  But letting himself believe in crazy conspiracy theories could surely only lead to a world of trouble – which was something he really didn’t need right now.

  He swallowed down his doubts and said, “Look, perhaps Tommy just—”

  But before he could finish, Christian turned and started walking away up the corridor. Henry frowned.

  “Hey!”

  Christian didn’t look back, disappearing around the corridor. Is everyone crazy around here? Shaking his head, Henry turned in the other direction…

  And that’s when he saw Steve, staring at him through the doors at the far end of the corridor. He held Henry in his glaring gaze for a couple of seconds, before turning away.

  Friday afternoon couldn’t come round fast enough for Henry. It brought the promise of the swim trial with Coach Tyler, the only teacher at Malcorp High who didn’t look at him like he was some kind of bug crawling around their classroom. When the last period finally ended, Henry was the first out the door and running across the school grounds to make his meeting with the coach.

  Upon arriving at the pool, he found the last class finishing up and getting changed. Henry got into his swim gear, taking a locker at the far end of the changing room as far away from everyone else as possible. He’d talked enough with Blake and his crowd that week – all he wanted to do now was get in the water and swim until his arms and legs ached.

  The changing room began to empty out fast and by the time Henry pushed his uniform into the locker, the place was silent. As he slammed the locker shut, however, a cry of pain split the air. Henry looked towards the showers – that was where the noise had come from. There was another cry and the sound of laughter. Grabbing his towel, Henry walked towards the noise.

  As he rounded the side of the shower, he saw Christian sitting under one of the taps. He was fully dressed, but his clothes were soaked. Someone had turned the showers on him and blood was pouring from his nose – he was trying to catch it in his hands. He looked completely defenceless. And right in front of him was Steve, standing with clenched fists and five of his followers at his back. As Henry watched, Steve raised a fist to hit Christian again…

  “Hey!” Henry yelled. “Why don’t you pick on someone who actually wants to fight you?”

  Steve’s hand stopped in mid-air. He looked round. “Are you still here? Haven’t they flunked you out yet?”

  “They’re letting me stay on until I kick your ass. They’re going to give me special credit.”

  Steve laughed and shook his head. “Your comebacks are lamer than your grade average. I’m gonna give you one chance. Walk away.”

  Henry looked down at Christian, who was wiping his bloodied nose, and then back to Steve. “I don’t think so.”

  On the floo
r, Christian looked up and shook his head slightly, as if to say that Henry shouldn’t even think about fighting Steve. Henry ignored him. He’d never been one to start a fight, but he wasn’t about to walk away from one either.

  Steve bent down, grabbed Christian by the back of his shirt and practically threw him across the shower towards Henry. As Christian landed heavily against the tiles, Henry wondered just how strong the other kid was. Could it be that he was jacked up on steroids? Did that explain the aggression? He’d seen it before – jocks getting into drugs to enhance their bodies and their performance, and becoming completely strung out in the process.

  Steve started forward and his gang came with him. Two of them disappeared towards the back of the shower and Henry had no doubt that they were moving round the changing room to cut off his retreat. Well, you’re into it now, he thought.

  Taking the initiative, Henry stepped forward and swung at Steve’s chin, hoping to end it with one blow. With lightning speed, his opponent caught his fist and squeezed. Henry gasped in pain as the bones in his hand were crushed. In desperation, he flailed his left fist at Steve, causing the bully to release him – but only for a second. In a blur of motion, he grabbed Henry’s throat in his vice-like grip and slammed him against the tiles, knocking the air from his lungs even as his fingers tightened on his windpipe. Within seconds Henry found himself gasping for breath, fight draining from his arms and legs.

  “If I killed you,” said Steve, his voice unnaturally calm, as if the act of violence had no effect on him, “do you know who would care?”

  Henry struggled to get free, but the fingers around his neck tightened inexorably. There was no escape. Stars began to explode behind his eyes. Christian pushed himself off the floor and flew at Steve, but two of the others held him back.

  “No one,” Steve went on. “Absolutely no one at all.”

  On the verge of passing out, Henry realized he had no chance of tearing free of Steve’s grasp. Instead, with the last of his strength, he reached up and gripped the shower head on the wall above him. Using it for leverage, he raised his legs and kicked Steve in the gut. With a look of surprise, the boy flew back against the far wall, hitting the tiles hard. For a second he stared at Henry, clearly shocked that he’d been thrown off. Then he tensed to fly at him again…

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Everyone stopped at the sound of Coach Tyler’s voice. He stood at the far end of the showers, his expression a mixture of shock and anger.

  Steve gazed back without expression. All aggression had drained from him in an instant. “Nothing, coach,” he said. “Just about to get out of here for the day.”

  As if on a silent command, both he and his gang walked from the shower as one. Coach Tyler made to follow them, exasperation written all over his face.

  “It didn’t look like nothing! If I find out you’ve been fighting in here, I’ll ban you all from the pool for a month!”

  There was no response, merely the slamming of the changing room door as they left. The coach took a deep breath, clearly fighting to control his anger. He turned to Henry, who was standing against the wall, rubbing his throat.

  “Are you okay?”

  Henry nodded. He wasn’t about to show he’d taken a beating.

  “What about you?” the coach asked Christian.

  “Nosebleed,” the kid replied. “Happens all the time.”

  “Right,” Coach Tyler said, before turning his attention to Henry. “We’d better do the trial another day. Next week perhaps.”

  “No, coach!” Henry protested. “Please. I’m okay.”

  Tyler regarded Henry carefully and slowly nodded his head. “Fine. But if you’re not in the pool in two minutes, you can forget about the trial.”

  With that, he turned and left. Henry looked at Christian, who was standing by the wall. “Are you okay?” he asked. “What was that about?”

  “I’m just fine,” Christian replied, starting towards the door. “Steve and his friends don’t like kids who don’t fit in. Not that you care.”

  Henry felt a surge of anger. “Hey, I just saved your ass!”

  Christian stopped on the edge of the changing room. “Big deal – Steve and his goons will be around on Monday to beat the crap out of me all over again. But you’re not worried about that, are you?”

  “Christian…” But he was already out of the door.

  Henry went to the nearest sink and splashed water on his face in an effort to clear his head. He rubbed his neck. He’d seen fights before and heard all sorts of exaggerated threats thrown around, but there was something truly weird about the calmness with which Steve had attacked him.

  And when Steve said he was going to kill him…Henry had absolutely believed it.

  After the long school day and the incident in the changing rooms, the water of the pool was wonderfully cool and refreshing. The place was empty apart from a few kids taking turns on the high board over at the dive pool. The surface of the lap pool was perfectly still as Henry dived into the deep end and started on a few easy-going laps to warm up. On his fourth turn, he upped the pace, working his arms and legs harder, powering to the other side where Coach Tyler had appeared with a stopwatch in his hand.

  “Not bad,” the coach said. “Good arms, but your breathing needs work.”

  Henry nodded. Although it had only been a couple of weeks since his last swim, he felt out of practice.

  “Why don’t you show me what you can really do?” the coach asked. “What’s your best stroke?”

  “Breast,” Henry said, pulling himself out of the water and moving into the starting position by the edge, so the coach could see how he entered the water.

  “Okay then,” the coach said, resetting the stopwatch. “Get ready.”

  Henry stretched and then bent into starting position…

  Bare feet slapped across the tiles, approaching the lap pool. Henry looked round as Steve took position at the head of one of the other lanes.

  “This pool’s closed for a try-out,” the coach told him coldly. “Go to the dive pool if you want a swim.”

  Steve gave no indication he’d heard, merely pulling a pair of goggles down over his eyes.

  “Fine,” the coach muttered, before leaning down so he could whisper in Henry’s ear. “Show that son of a bitch what you can do.” With that, he stepped back and raised his hand. “Four laps on my mark…ready…set…go!”

  Henry sprang from his starting position and entered the pool perfectly, arms forward, cutting the water like an arrow. For a few seconds he powered along underwater, before breaking the surface to take a breath. Looking left, he saw the shape of Steve a couple of lanes down, neck and neck.

  Focus, Henry told himself, concentrating on the co-ordinated power in his arms and legs… Breathe… Stroke… Breathe…

  Suddenly the other end of the pool, a hundred metres from their starting point, loomed up. Henry dived…turned…kicked away from the wall…

  And then he was on his way back down the pool. Time to pull away, he thought, aware of Steve executing the turn at the same time as him. He started working his legs harder, keeping the rhythm of his arms steady… He sensed he was pulling away, but Steve was on his right now and he couldn’t see for sure.

  Nobody’s faster than me in the pool, Henry told himself. Nobody.

  The next turn came up. Once again he executed it perfectly, seeing that Steve was going into the turn a good two seconds behind him. Time to consolidate… He kept up the pace all the way through the third lap, even though the muscles in his legs were starting to burn. He knew he should hold something back for a final push, but he wanted to beat Steve on the third lap…and wanted the other kid to see he was beaten…

  He hardly paid attention to his opponent as he streamed down the lane, so intent was he on getting every iota of speed from his limbs. So it was only as he approached the third and final turn that he saw it…

  The shape of the other boy racing ahead in t
he parallel lane… Somehow making it to the turn before him… Suddenly no longer seconds behind, but seconds ahead…

  No way! Henry thought as he made the turn. Unable to resist, he looked up, seeing that Steve was now almost halfway down the lane on his way to the finish. Got to catch up. In the following seconds he pushed himself harder than ever before …

  And it still wasn’t enough.

  By the time he slapped his hand against the far end of the pool, Steve had pulled himself up out of the water and was waiting for him with his arms folded. He wasn’t even breathing heavily, despite the incredible exertion of the last few minutes. Gasping, Henry leaned against the edge and tried to get some much needed air into his lungs.

  “Great time,” the coach said, kneeling down beside him and examining his stopwatch. Then he stole a glance at Steve, who turned and walked away, his face an emotionless mask.

  “Not great enough,” Henry said, splashing water on his face.

  “You look exhausted,” the coach said. “Get dressed and meet me in my office.”

  “But the rest of the trial!” he protested.

  “Kid, you’re done in,” the coach said with a sigh. “Too bad. I really wanted to see you beat that guy.”

  He turned and walked away. Henry balled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the water.

  It seemed Malcorp High wouldn’t even allow him to be good at the one thing he was best at.

  Five minutes later, Henry found the coach sitting in the small office that looked over the pool. The room was crowded with papers, sports magazines and all manner of other junk. As he walked in, the coach pointed to a chair in the corner. Henry removed a stack of old newspapers from the seat and sat down.

  “Sorry, coach,” he said quietly. “Guess I didn’t make the grade, huh?”

  “I made you a coffee,” the man said, passing over a mug to Henry. “Thought you could use one.”

  “Thanks,” Henry said.

  The man reached into his desk, removing a bottle of whiskey. He poured a measure into his own coffee mug. “You didn’t see that,” he said as he replaced the bottle.