“Rich, are you up here?”
He sighed and turned around, making his way out of his grandma’s room. He didn’t want to have to come up with an excuse as to why he’d been poking around in her closet.
“I’m up here, Aunt Laura.”
She came into Rich’s room, relief all over her face. “Oh, good. You’ll have to forgive me, Rich. I guess I’m a little paranoid after today.”
“It’s okay. Anything about my mom?” Laura shook her head, and Rich followed up with another question. “What’s going to happen to me?”
Laura’s eyes glistened, though her tears had run dry. “I’m going to stay with you for the next little while until we can figure out something more permanent. Uncle Mark can hold down the fort for a bit.” She smiled halfway. “You wouldn’t want to come out and live on the farm, would you?”
Rich glanced at the floor, deep in thought. He saw himself crashing a tractor into a grain silo and shuddered. He hadn’t done a day of manual labor in his life. Still, he really enjoyed their family and didn’t want to hurt Laura’s feelings.
“Uh, that’d be really cool, but don’t expect me to slaughter any pigs or anything.”
Laura chuckled softly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll have you scrub the bathrooms instead.” At this, they both laughed, though underneath it all, Rich sincerely hoped she was joking. “By the way, a girl called for you about a history assignment.”
Rich sighed. “Yeah, that would be Angela. I was supposed to go over there tonight.”
Laura held up a hand. “Don’t worry, Rich. I told her what happened, and of course she understood. She says she’ll see you tomorrow in class. Unless you want to stay home. I’d completely understand if you don’t feel like going.”
Rich took a step back and leaned against the wall, “No, no, I’ll go. I need to keep busy so I don’t worry too much. Are you going to bed?”
Laura nodded. “Yes. Do you need anything? Hungry?” Rich shook his head, and Laura continued, “Good night, then.”
Rich waited for Laura to leave and then turned to go back to the painting only to run straight into someone leaving the closet. He stumbled and fell, stifling a cry, his fall broken by a stack of old paperback books. He scrambled to get up, his hands balled into fists. However, instead of attacking, the figure offered to help him up. Rich accepted and saw that it was Aaron.
“Oh, Rich, at last. Your slumber was quite lengthy.”
Rich rolled his eyes. “What did they say?”
“They’re very encouraged by your progress and distressed about your mother. They will inform us if she shows up there, which she will if she really is dead.”
“And?” Rich asked.
“And good luck. They believe in you.”
Rich exhaled. “What? That’s it? How long were you in there?”
Aaron shook his head, making his hair bob around. “Long enough. I had to wait my turn. Do you think you’re the only thing they have to talk about?”
Rich sputtered for words. “Well, no—it’s just that I thought they’d give me more than a pat on the back. I could have gotten that from a motivational poster.”
Aaron thrust his hand into his hair and rummaged around for a moment before withdrawing a long, slender object. It looked like a blue chopstick with a gem on the end. He handed it to Rich, who studied it intently, wondering whether it was a utensil or a weapon, and what else might be hiding in all that hair.
“Uh, thanks. What is it?”
“It’s a hair ornament from your third great-aunt Margareta. They say it’s a talisman that glowed in the presence of her nemesis. There’s no guarantee it will work the same for you, but it’s a start.”
“I guess I’ll take it. Thanks.”
Aaron gave a huge yawn and glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “All in a day’s work. I think I’ve earned some sleep.”
Rich started to protest, wanting to force Aaron to tell him more, but caught the yawn bug the moment he opened his mouth. His earlier nap had only taken the edge off his fatigue and sadness. He fell into step behind Aaron and in moments, was back in bed with his head to the pillow. His thoughts now returned to his strange dream. He briefly considered waking Aaron to tell him about it, but quickly lost the battle with his sinking eyelids. This time, he fell into a dreamless sleep, his last thought on whether he’d ever see his mother again.
Chapter 10: Broken Axel
The next morning, Rich only had to wake Aaron up twice before he rolled out of bed. No one said much or ate much of anything at breakfast. Rich pushed away his plate and trudged off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. A few seconds later, Aaron poked his head around the edge of the door.
“What are you doing?”
Rich spit into the sink and turned. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’ve never brushed your teeth.”
Aaron suddenly took up a study of the bathroom floor. “I have cleaned my teeth, if that’s what you mean. But I’ve never seen it done in this fashion.” He stepped closer to the sink and indicated the toothpaste. “What is the purpose of this substance? I’ve seen others using it. Is it a type of soap?”
Rich managed his first grin of the morning. “It’s called ‘toothpaste,’ and it tastes a lot better than soap.” He picked up the tube and squeezed a dollop onto his finger. “Here, try some.”
Aaron eyed the green paste suspiciously for a moment and then stuck out his own finger, took the toothpaste, and placed it carefully on his tongue. His eyes grew wide as if he had swallowed a live coal. His hands fluttered in front of his mouth as if trying to beat out flames. “It—it burns! It’s burning my mouth! What do I do?”
Barely masking his amusement, Rich filled a plastic cup with tap water and offered it to Aaron. “Here, rinse with this. Spit it out in the sink.”
Aaron reached for the cup, but instead of spitting the water out, he downed the glass in one series of gulps. He looked somewhat relieved, though his face still wrinkled with concern. “That’s better, but I can still feel it burning in my mouth. You do this every morning?”
Rich nodded. “Makes it easier for people to talk to you.” Aaron agreed and quickly left the room. Rich pondered the idea of calling him back to try mint mouthwash, but decided that might be unnecessarily cruel. It would be better to stay on Aaron’s good side.
They were out the door a few minutes later and walked briskly to ward off the chill. “So, which one should I go for today?” Rich asked. “Courage again? Or maybe wisdom?”
Aaron shrugged. “I think it’s best not to plan it out. You saw what happened last time you tried.”
“Yeah, sure.” The idea of going in without a plan still nagged at Rich like an out-of-reach itch. “Keep your mouth shut in Mr. Bickmann’s class today. I really don’t want to stay longer in detention than I have to.”
Actually, it would depend on if Mallory were there, he thought. It was true that he didn’t want to be punished by Mr. Bickmann again—there were much more creative ways to get sent to detention that were a lot more fun.
He was just considering how to use cafeteria mashed potatoes in his plot when Aaron stopped and pointed. “Look, there’s something shining in your backpack!”
Rich whipped his backpack off his shoulder and immediately saw what Aaron had been talking about. He placed the pack on the ground, knelt beside it, and then unzipped the compartment closest to the glow. The jewel on the blue chopstick Aaron had given him last night shone brightly.
Rich and Aaron glanced up simultaneously to see who was around. Unfortunately, they stood in the front of the high school in the midst of dozens of people. Rich swallowed hard and clenched his fists. Any one of t
hem could be his enemy, and he had no way of knowing which one.
“What should we do?” Rich whispered. “It’s here, in the school.”
Aaron’s face remained calm. “Just keep your eyes open. And don’t worry.”
Rich rolled his eyes. It wasn’t easy to take advice from someone who was technically already dead. He wrapped the hairpin in an old gym shirt he’d forgotten to take out and closed the bag. He didn’t want the gem to start glowing in the middle of class, where it could be mistaken for the screen of a cell phone or something.
They entered the school, and at once, a group of lanky teens decked out in black and chains stepped into their path. Rich held his breath, wondering what he’d done to insult the Goth squad. One of them stepped out of the group and advanced on Rich. He was well over six feet tall, with long limbs, stringy black hair, and more piercings in his ear than Rich thought humanly possible. Rich breathed out as he realized he knew this guy. His name was Axel Stark, and they shared a common interest in collecting medieval figurines.
“Hey, Axel,” Rich said. “I, uh, well, nice to see you.”
Axel grunted in response, his face stiff. “Hey, Rich. Wanted to ask you something.” He slung his backpack around and rummaged through its contents for a few seconds, pulling out one random object after another—a guitar pick, a cell phone, an MP3 player, a stapler, a pack of playing cards, a Magic 8 ball, a fortune cookie, and an old cassette tape before he finally located a crumpled flier and handed it to Rich.
Rich studied the flier with interest. It depicted two knights locked in combat while a suitable number of peasants and damsels looked on. Bold letters across the top heralded the 4th Annual Medieval Fair. Rich had gone two out of the last three years.
“Are you inviting me?” Rich asked.
Axel nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m setting up a tent this year with some of my models. I wondered if you’d like to bring some of yours. I just got this sweet Enchanted Keep model, and we could set up an awesome war zone. I made some pretty good money last year.”
Rich pondered for a few minutes. At first glance, it looked like a complete waste of time when his life might be in danger.
“Come on—it’ll be cool,” Axel said. “Some people give you tips and stuff, and I’d split the money with you. You’re the only person in this place who’s even half as good as me at making those models.”
Rich glanced up, and for a moment, he looked Axel directly in the eyes. A brilliant flash of light overcame Rich’s vision, and he felt energy ripple through his body. The next moment, it was as if he was looking at himself through Axel’s eyes. His head swam, and his back throbbed with pain. A crushing sadness and desperation settled over him, and he could sense how much Axel wanted him to accept.
Rich snapped back to his senses and nodded. “Sure, Axel, I’ll be there. I’ve built some new stuff you haven’t seen yet. It’ll be awesome.”
Axel gave a tiny smile. “Thanks, man. My cell number’s on the back. Call me next Friday, and I’ll let you know where we’re setting up.”
Without another word, Axel turned and took his posse around the corner and out of sight. Rich stood in the middle of the hallway for a moment, feeling a little dazed.
Aaron placed a hand on his shoulder. “It happened, didn’t it?”
Rich nodded. “Yeah, whatever ‘it’ was. It was like I was actually walking in his shoes for a second there. Something else you neglected to mention?”
“When you’re hundreds of years old, see how good your memory is. There’s only so much room in there, you know?”
Rich grunted in annoyance. “You didn’t seem to have that problem yesterday in class—all those World War II facts.”
Aaron shrugged. “Never mind that. This means you’re getting stronger. Because you passed one of the tests, you have been granted a valuable gift. It lets you take your gift of compassion to the next level. It’s not the same with everyone, but it looks like you received an empathy flash.”
Rich felt like a kindergartner trying to figure out a calculus problem. “Come again? You might have to dumb it down a little bit for us mere mortals.”
“An empathy flash. You looked into his eyes and felt what it was like to be him for a moment. That could surely be useful.”
Rich shuddered. If that’s what it was like to be Axel … “Does this mean that will happen every time I look someone in the eyes?”
“Oh, no. Usually it would take staring at them for a long time, depending on how strong their emotions are. His must have been rather strong to get such a quick reaction.”
“You can say that again,” Rich said. “It felt like getting beaten up and then being told that my dog died.”
“Perhaps you can do something for him. What do you know about him?”
Rich shrugged. “Not much. I’ve only talked to him a few times, and then the conversation consisted of turrets, moats, armies, and catapults. He’s really nice, even though he looks scary.”
Aaron drew his eyebrows together. “I get the feeling that the others he was with are... how would you say it... ‘ruffians’?”
Rich gave a quick snort. “Only if we’re in literature class. I’d probably call them ‘punks.’ And you’re right—they are kind of a rough crowd. Most people won’t even talk to them, so they stick together.”
“I can’t see how that helps them much beyond strength in numbers. I wonder if they’re all as miserable as your friend.”
“Well,” Rich said, continuing toward his locker, “you know what they say—misery loves company.”
Aaron didn’t answer for a long moment. “Who are ‘they’? I didn’t know they said that.”
Rich rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, not seeing the point in trying to explain. He looked around for Angela so he could apologize, but she was nowhere to be seen. For an instant, he thought he caught a glimpse of Mallory in the crowd, but she quickly turned a corner and he lost sight of her.
They arrived at history and stopped just outside the doorway. “Remember,” Rich said, “no problems with Mr. Bickmann today.”
Aaron nodded vigorously, his hair bobbing around like a clown’s wig. “Of course. I won’t raise my hand or speak out in any way, though his words should cut me to my heart.”
Rich motioned him inside and mumbled, “I’d love to see what you could do in drama class.”
They took their seats and whipped out their massive books. With everything that had gone on last night, Rich hadn’t had any time to study. He crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t be called on to present anything.
The bell rang, and Mr. Bickmann rapped his fingers on the desk. “Good morning, class. I hope you all read the assignment. I would prefer to assume that you did and move on. However, since I am all too well acquainted with the nature of junior high school students, I deem it necessary to have you prove your mastery.”
He tipped his glasses to the end of his nose and glared at them like a cobra lying in wait. “Witz, Kowalski! Perhaps you would like to stand and give us a short summary of the first portion of the reading section up through 1942. Perhaps your stay in detention yesterday gave you additional time to ponder this pivotal point in European history.”
“Kowalski” was the last name Aaron had given himself, and Rich was the only “Witz.” Rich stared back at the teacher with wide, pleading eyes. Mr. Bickmann looked like he’d bitten into a moldy piece of fruit. Rich clamped his eyes shut, hoping against hope that it all would simply go away.
“Ahem. Though I said ‘perhaps,’ it wasn’t really a suggestion. Stand up and give an account of yourselves.”
Rich stood and was careful not to look his teacher in the eyes. He had no desire to s
ee things from Mr. Bickmann’s perspective. That might scar him for life.
He cleared his throat. “Please, Mr. Bickmann. My mother was in a car crash yesterday, and she’s gone missing. I was talking to the police and felt really bad all day. I didn’t get to most of the reading.”
Mr. Bickmann’s face remained impassive. He stood and took his yardstick off the desk. Rich thought about reminding him that corporal punishment had been banned from the school for some time now.
“Your loss is regrettable, Mr. Witz. But then again, with your mother gone, your studies are more important than ever. I would feel remiss in my duties if I didn’t allow you another day in detention to make up for lost time.”
Rich swallowed hard and sank back to his seat. Hot rage smoldered inside his chest and screamed for an outlet. The teacher turned his attention to Aaron and brandished his ruler like a cattle prod.
“And you, Mr. Kowalski. Was your evening as tragic as your friend’s?”
Aaron shook his head and began without preamble. He started with the end of World War I and the Treaty of Versailles and continued through the failed Weimar Republic, the rise of the Nazi party, and the series of invasions that started World War II. When he finished with his explanation, he sat calmly and folded his hands in his lap. Mr. Bickmann dropped his yardstick.
“Mr. Kowalski, in your rather thorough explanation, you included events that were not mentioned in the text. Do you mean to tell me that you did additional research in preparation for class today?”
Aaron bobbed his head slightly. “Yes, sir. I find it an especially fascinating point in history.”
Mr. Bickmann picked up his yardstick and pointed with it, this time as if indicating a particularly interesting animal in a zoo. “Take note, students. Here sits a true scholar! It is something to which you should all aspire—though, sadly, many of you will never achieve.”
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