Paladin_Pawn

by Michael D. Young

  Rich responded with a hollow laugh. “Those things don’t mean anything these days. I’m short and scrawny. I’ve got a face like a minefield, and glasses that make the Hubble telescope look like a magnifying glass. Not only that...” He paused and sighed as he realized his explanation probably made no sense to his guest. “The bottom line is, I’m not good-looking or athletic. Therefore, not popular. End of story.”

  Aaron looked up in dismay. “I don’t understand. I haven’t known you long, but you seem like a nice person, even if you’re not a work of art.”

  Rich shrugged. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Things are messed up.” He glanced down at his tray and fiddled with some overdone tater tots. He popped one in his mouth and chewed slowly, like a cow munching his cud. “So, anyway,” he began, “how do we go about doing this? It’s been half a day, and I haven’t seen any damsels in distress. I mean, how big of a task does this have to be?”

  Aaron arched his eyebrows. “Big enough to notice, but nothing earthshaking, I guess.”

  Rich breathed out hard. “That doesn’t help! Didn’t you have to do this before they let you in to this group... order... thing? What did you do?”

  Aaron nodded. “Yes,” he admitted, “but I hardly think that will be of help to you. I lived hundreds of years ago, and things were different then.” He started to say more, but then stopped and sniffed. “Hey, what are those golden things on your dish? They look delicious!”

  Rich tossed Aaron a tater tot. A wide grin spread across Aaron’s face, and he reached for another. Rich brought his hand down hard in front of the mound of tots, inadvertently slinging a blob of applesauce onto his shirt. “No, not until you tell me what you did for your task.”

  Aaron pleaded with his eyes. “Just a few more, and I will tell you whatever you want. Please, don’t you know what you have? To think they give these things away for lunch.”

  Rich opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short as the school’s PA system suddenly beeped, indicating a school-wide announcement. “Attention, students. There will be a tryout to select the spring track team in the north gym during study hall. All interested students should get a pass from their teacher. Thank you, and go Jaguars!”

  For a moment, Rich forgot completely about the tots and stared up at the ceiling in the direction of the voice.

  “Rich, are you okay?” Aaron asked. “You look like a spell has been cast on you.”

  Rich adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger. “That announcement gave me an idea. You said that one of the tasks had to be a feat of exceptional courage, right? What’s the last thing a kid like me would do?”

  Aaron shrugged, frowning. “Do something unbecoming to your social status? That would take a certain amount of bravery...”

  “Right!” Rich said. “By the way, no one says ‘unbecoming’ anymore.”

  Aaron dodged the comment and continued. “Anyway, is this ‘track’ thing a test of your physical prowess? That would be a bold move indeed. No offense.”

  Rich nodded with enthusiasm. “Yes, it’s all about who can run the fastest and jump the highest—things like that. I’d have to be crazy to try out!”

  Aaron grinned, playing with a loose strand of hair. “Sounds risky. There’s a fine line between courageous and crazy, and the second attribute will not get you anywhere.”

  Rich rolled his eyes. “They don’t feed the losers to the lions, Aaron. I want to try it. We’ve got study hall next hour. You can come with me and watch. It might actually be fun.”

  Suddenly, Rich’s imagination whisked him off to the outdoor track on a sunny day. He ran at full speed, barely in front of a pack of other runners in hot pursuit. Sweat streamed from his forehead, and his arms and legs flew rapidly in a steady rhythm. He rounded the final curve and glimpsed the finish line, marked by a length of bright red ribbon drawn across the track. With a final burst of blinding speed, Rich raced ahead and tore through the ribbon, flinging his arms in the air in triumph. He glanced over his shoulder and smirked at the competition he had left in the dust, taking satisfaction in seeing Nadia and Joe among the group.

  He turned his gaze back to the cheering crowd, who threw flowers and shouted his name in unison. Nearby, a band played a victory anthem, topping even the roar of the crowd. In an instant, the fans broke through the stands, grabbing Rich and hoisting him onto their shoulders. They paraded him around the track, all the time chanting and cheering, and—

  “Rich, wake up! Everyone is leaving.”

  Reality flooded back, and Rich realized that was true. The bell had rung and students were filing out in force. Rich moved to offer the rest of his tater tots to Aaron, but found that they were already gone. He stood up, picked up his tray, and tossed the rest of the contents into a nearby trashcan. “Come on, Aaron. Let’s do this before I can talk myself out of it.”

  Chapter 7: A Breathtaking Race

  The south gym bustled with activity. Dozens of anxious students milled around, seemingly unable to stand still or contain their nervous excitement. Near the back of the gym, a pair of teachers with clipboards shifted their weight from one foot to another and glanced frequently at the clock. Rich almost felt sorry for them. Perhaps they had pulled the short straws and were forced to lead the tryouts.

  One of the teachers, whom Rich recognized as Mr. Green, the basketball coach, picked up a bullhorn and raised it to his mouth. “Okay—guys line up against this wall, and the girls against the other wall. You’ll run a sprint from one end of the gym to the other in groups of eight, and the top two runners in each of these heats will be asked to come back for tomorrow’s final tryouts. Come on. Get moving!”

  In Rich’s mind, the teachers donned cowboy hats and lassos and assumed the roles of cattle drivers, herding the students to their respective ends of the room.

  Rich and Aaron fell in line with the rest of the boys, leaning with their backs against the wall and one foot against it. Rich rocked back and forth, his breath coming in spurts. “Hey!” yelled a kid behind him. “You blind or something? Move up!”

  Rich snapped back to reality and realized that the line had moved. He mumbled to himself and shuffled forward, not bothering to glance back.

  The line crawled ahead, and sweat dripped down Rich’s brow. He glanced at Aaron, hoping to see some sign of reassurance. Aaron’s gaze wandered the room, looking at the people, the floor, the ceiling—everywhere but at Rich. Rich clenched his jaw. What was the good of having an eight-hundred-year-old guide if they just gawked at everything?

  Unfortunately, they had landed themselves near the back of the line and had to watch most of the others run before them. Rich watched in silence as the fastest students in the school zoomed past them without breaking a sweat. He was already drenched.

  At last they reached the front of the line, and Rich shot Aaron a worried glance. “This had better be worth it,” he whispered as they both took their places.

  The boy next to Rich glanced over, sizing up his opponents. One glance at Rich, and the corners of his mouth turned up sharply and he shook his head. He made no attempt to mask a laugh, and Rich tried to ignore him.

  He’s probably thinking I’ve single-handedly improved his chances.

  The basketball coach raised an orange flag with one arm, then dropped it, and all eight students sprinted forward, their rapid steps echoing off the gym’s smooth walls.

  Rich sprinted and gave a cry of dismay as the runners on either side flew past him. He willed his legs to move faster and succeeded in gaining a bit of ground. His chest tightened, and he tasted blood in the back of his mouth. Was he really so out of shape?

  The wall inched closer, and it became clear that he had no chance of overtak
ing the leaders. He smiled as his dreams of being a track star shattered and blew away like confetti in the wind.

  Oh, well. There are lots of other ways to get rich and famous. I don’t think Bill Gates ever tried out for the track team.

  His concentration lapsed from the race, so he didn’t see the outstretched leg until it was too late. Rich tripped and landed face-first on the ground. His glasses flew off and slid away. “Not again!”

  He hit the ground hard and scrambled back to his feet. His eyes scanned the crowd, hoping that some Good Samaritan would have seen his glasses fly off and retrieve them. No such luck. He bounded off in the direction he had seen them go, finally running for a cause he could believe in. He ignored the angry comments around him, sank to his knees again, and felt around on the floor.

  An object slid across the slick floor and landed practically in his hands. His blurry vision prevented him from recognizing it, so he picked it up and held it close to his eyes. It was a short cylindrical object with a curved end. It took only a few seconds to realize that it was an inhaler.

  That’s weird. People who need these don’t usually try out for track. Then again, people like me don’t usually do that either.

  Rich felt a hand on his shoulder and wheeled about with a gasp. Even without his glasses, there was no mistaking Aaron’s brown mane. “Here!” Aaron said. “I found your spectacles at the end of the room. It appears they actually crossed the goal line first, which should make you the winner.” Aaron helped Rich to his feet, and Rich replaced his glasses, which had taken the abuse better than his previous pair. “I’m sorry, Rich. I would have been here sooner, but that portly man over there wanted to speak to me.”

  Rich arched an eyebrow. “Which one—Coach Green? Why did he want to talk to you?”

  Aaron shrugged sheepishly. “I presume that I ran much faster than the other boys. He asked me if I have ever run track before and wants me back here tomorrow.” He rubbed his smooth chin. “Is he an instructor? I cannot imagine him teaching an old milk cow to run.”

  Rich burst out laughing, despite his recently wounded pride. “Yeah, it’s pretty strange, huh? Anyway, thanks. I think I might need to find a way to bolt my glasses to my head.”

  Rich looked at the object in his hand again and confirmed that it was an inhaler. He looked closer and gasped when he read a line of writing scrawled across the surface in permanent ink: Nadia Petrenko. He suddenly felt as if he had picked up a live grenade. If she caught him with this, he’d get much worse than water balloons. He tossed the inhaler back and forth in his hands, and then stopped as another thought crossed his mind.

  So, my enemy has a weakness. Good to know.

  For once in his life, he had leverage over a person who made him miserable. He could use this to force her to leave him alone.

  Rich’s head bobbed slowly up and down. Right after a race, the timing could hardly be better. Schemes swirled about in his head like mist over a dark lake, slowly taking form.

  Perhaps I could even write a ransom note with cut-out magazine letters. I’ve always wanted to try that.

  He imagined himself cutting letters out of a magazine to tape together as the ransom message, complete with a photo of him holding the inhaler precariously over the toilet.

  He scanned the room and found Nadia standing in the center of a group of upper-classmen girls. Rich’s heart seized in his chest—Nadia was barely breathing.

  The teachers had already taken notice and were talking into their cell phones, and the surrounding students were crawling around on the floor in a desperate search.

  Nadia dropped to her knees and laid a hand over her heaving chest. Rich glanced at her and for a moment, met her gaze. He winced as his vivid imagination seized on the panic and pain he found in her eyes.

  His fingers loosened their grip on the inhaler, and his eyes refused to move from the scene in front of him. One part of him told him to run, to let her suffer as she had made him suffer so many times. Surely this would only be a small token in comparison to all the nasty things she had done over the years. Yet, another part of him spoke, much more gently, and told him he had to give it back.

  Rich finally managed to turn his head and found Aaron staring intently at him.

  “It’s completely up to you, Rich,” Aaron said, his voice and eyes taking on a depth far beyond his youthful appearance.

  “Why should I give it back?” Rich asked, stuffing it in his pocket. “She’s had it in for me since first grade. I could give her a taste of her own medicine... using medicine.”

  “You certainly have grounds for taking revenge,” Aaron said. “But think carefully before you do that. Sometimes being a knight means that you show kindness to those who don’t deserve it.”

  Rich’s own breathing accelerated. “But what good will that do me? If I give it back now, she’ll probably punch me back to kindergarten. At least I can make a deal or something.”

  Aaron’s gaze didn’t break away. “Rich, think about what you’re saying. You’re gambling with her life, a thing far more precious than you could ever imagine. It would be better to give your own life than to take someone else’s in anger.”

  Rich blinked and flinched as if waking abruptly from a dream. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He’d had no idea how severe her condition was. He took one step back, and then turned toward Nadia, holding up the inhaler like the Olympic torch and running to her rescue.

  Nadia’s eyes grew wide when she saw Rich’s hand, and she groped through the air with both arms toward him. Rich passed over the inhaler, which she stuffed in her mouth and pressed a few times.

  Nadia’s breathing grew slower and slower until it returned to normal. She looked up at Rich, and for a moment, her hard exterior melted away to reveal the genuine gratitude beneath.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, her shell returning, “but don’t expect a Valentine.” With the help of several of her friends, she rose to her feet and slunk out of the gym.

  A sudden, radiant heat emanated next to Rich’s heart. His hand flew to his chest and found the medallion there. With a broad smile, he pulled his shirt forward to see what was happening. The entire cage glowed with a milky white-and-golden light, sparks dancing like fireflies across the surface. It tingled against his skin for about thirty seconds, and the same wonderful feeling he’d experienced in the closet filled his body. This feeling, however, subsided quickly, leaving him empty and hollow, as if staring after the last train of the day as it disappeared into the distance.

  When the feeling stopped, the center section of the pawn remained illuminated. The breastplate. Aaron walked over and placed a hand on Rich’s shoulder.

  “Well done, Rich! That’s the mark of compassion. Not an easy task, nor one that most of us achieve first.”

  “But nothing for courage, huh? Why not?”

  Aaron smiled with one side of his mouth. “Well, Rich, if you had won, what would you have done? Would you actually be back tomorrow afternoon?”

  Rich’s eyes wandered around the room. “Well, maybe. Probably,” he said.

  “And if you had made the track team—what then?”

  Rich shrugged. “I’d probably go jump in a bomb shelter because it would be a sign of the end of the world.”

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. “All right,” Rich said. “I wouldn’t really be too excited about it. I’d probably bring the whole team down.”

  Aaron nodded, his lips pressed into a hard line. “You will find that it’s not enough to run off and do something ‘brave.’ You have to do it for the right reasons. Running this race was really not helping anyone but yourself. Not so when you helped Nadia with her breathing device.”

  “But you pract
ically had to do that yourself.”

  “True, but I didn’t actually make the choice for you. I simply provided a little motivation.”

  Rich sighed, looking at the scuff marks on the gym floor. “Keep providing that. Seems like I need it.”

  Aaron clapped a hand on Rich’s back. “Cheer up. You did great. I told you that opportunities would come.”

  The bell rang, signaling the end of free period. “Come on,” Rich said. “Let’s get to class. The last thing we need now is more detention.”

  Chapter 8: A Damsel in Detention

  The rest of the day passed without incident. Aaron sat quietly and did all his work without asking Rich for much help. This surprised Rich because he doubted Aaron had taken lessons in essay composition and biology.

  When Rich called him on it, Aaron gave a lopsided grin. “My gift works both ways. People seem to know and accept me, and I know everything I need to blend in. I might not remember it all afterwards, but right now, it’s working well.”

  Rich led Aaron toward detention in silence, unable to fight back his jealousy. How often would a gift like Aaron’s have come in handy during a math test?

  They arrived, and Rich pointed to the door. “Here we are. Detention.”

  Aaron backed away a few steps, “What does this mean? It sounds unpleasant.”

  Rich shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s really not too bad. They keep us locked up in a room without speaking for a while and make us work.”

  Aaron’s face went pale. “Are they going to cast us into a dungeon? Do they have torture devices?”

  Rich’s face broadened in a laugh. “No, not unless you consider the old desks torture devices. Come on—it’s only for half an hour.”

  “Surely there is a way to protest this unjust treatment. You did nothing wrong. I thought your society had progressed beyond such barbarism,” Aaron said.