B005N8ZFUO EBOK

by Lubar, David

  “What explanation?” Torchie asked.

  Here goes, I thought. “You all have psychic abilities.”

  Dead silence filled the room and three pairs of puzzled eyes stared at me. I might as well have been speaking Turkish. I realized they needed more of an explanation. I could understand that. This was a big idea to grasp all at once. “Flinch has precognition and Cheater is telepathic,” I said, stumbling a bit over the words as I showed off my new vocabulary. I waited for them to congratulate me on my brilliance.

  “Huh?” Torchie said.

  “Precognition?” Flinch asked. “Sounds like a device that starts a car by remote control.”

  Cheater just looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Really,” I said. “It’s true. Cheater is telepathic. He can read minds. That’s why he always has the same answers on his tests as other people in the room. I’ll prove it.”

  I needed to concentrate on something so Cheater could read my mind. A number—that would be a good test. But not a small number. It couldn’t be something simple like the number seven. Everyone thinks of seven. Just like everyone thinks of the ace of spades if you ask them to name a card. It had to be a bigger number. My house was on 85 Pritchard Drive. I closed my eyes and thought real hard of the number eighty-five. I pictured a big eighty-five—huge, red digits flashing like a score in a video game. I said, Eighty-five, eighty-five, eighty-five, over and over in my mind, then asked, “Okay, Cheater, what number am I thinking of?”

  “How should I know?” Cheater said.

  “Come on, take a guess.” I knew he could get it.

  Cheater shrugged, then said, “Seven. Is that it?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it was, but then I changed it. It started out as seven.”

  “Big deal,” Flinch said. “Everyone picks seven.”

  “Forget about the numbers. That doesn’t matter. Think back,” I urged the others. “Cheater always knows what I’m thinking. It must have happened to the rest of you, too. Haven’t any of you noticed? Come on, you must have.”

  “My mom usually knows what I’m thinking,” Torchie said.

  “I’m thinking you blew a brain gasket,” Flinch said.

  I could tell they were ready to walk away. This was not how it was supposed to go. They should have been thrilled. They should have been thanking me. Maybe Cheater wouldn’t cooperate, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

  “Flinch,” I said, pointing at him. “I know this sounds really wild, but you’re precognitive. That means you know things are going to happen before they happen. Like with the milk. You jumped before I spilled it.”

  “You did that on purpose?” Flinch asked, his face shifting from surprise to anger. “Hey, that’s really rotten. I could have gotten all wet.”

  “But you didn’t. That’s the point. Why do you think you’re so jumpy? It’s because you see stuff coming before it happens. You knew the milk was going to spill. Somehow, you saw it before it happened, or felt it, or just knew it was coming. The rest of us, we go through life getting bumps and having small accidents. I’m always stubbing my toes. Or I’ll bang my elbow when I walk around a corner. You avoid all that, but it makes you look real jumpy. And you start worrying about all the stuff you see coming from the future instead of paying attention to the present.”

  I paused to catch my breath. I felt like I was giving a speech, but I couldn’t help myself. There was so much to tell them. “You get in trouble for interrupting, too. You think the teacher’s done talking, but that’s ‘cause you’re seeing ahead. Or hearing ahead. Don’t you get it? It makes perfect sense.”

  Flinch shook his head. “I just can’t believe you spilled that milk on purpose.”

  “It doesn’t make sense at all,” Cheater said. “And Flinch is right, it wasn’t nice of you to spill milk on him.”

  I ignored Cheater and revealed my final piece of evidence. “Think about Torchie,” I said. “Have you ever seen him actually light a fire? Even once? I haven’t. And I live in the same room with him. They’re always blaming him, but nobody’s ever caught him. He’d have to be the sneakiest kid ever born to get away with that. Torchie isn’t sneaky. He’s telepyric. That means he can start fires with his mind.” I grabbed my notebook, ripped out a page, and thrust the sheet of paper at Torchie.

  “Come on, light it.”

  “Martin,” Torchie said. “This is some kind of stupid joke, right?”

  “No joke. Come on, light it.” I moved the paper right in front of his face. “Please.”

  “I can’t do nuthin’ like that. Honest. I told you I didn’t start no fires.”

  “You didn’t know you started them,” I said. “But you caused the fires—not with a lighter, but with your mind. Come on, try. If you’re my friend, you’ll at least give it a shot.”

  Despite his protests, Torchie tried. He stared at the paper. His brow got all wrinkled. His eyes narrowed to slits. He concentrated so hard that he grunted.

  Nothing happened.

  “Are you sure you’re trying?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m trying. It’s not working. Face it, Martin. You’re crazy. How’s that for a simple explanation? Edgeview has gotten to you.”

  “Yeah, Edgeview has pushed you over the edge,” Flinch said. “How’s the view from there?”

  “I’m not crazy,” I told them. “It all makes sense—perfect sense. Think about it.”

  “It’s getting late,” Cheater said. “It’s almost eighty-five.”

  “What did you say?” I spun toward him. A tingle of excitement ran through my scalp as his words sunk in. Eighty-five.

  FROM THE FRANKLIN CONCISE ENCYCLOPEDIA

  (1963 EDITION)

  BELIEVE ME ALONE

  Cheater pointed to his watch. “I said it’s nearly eight thirty-five.”

  “No, you said eighty-five. That was the number I was thinking of. Really. Look, I can prove everything. We can set up some tests. Okay?” I’d read about all kinds of tests for psychic abilities. Some of the tests used these cards with different patterns on them. I figured I could do the same thing with a regular deck.

  If Cheater could tell what card I was looking at, that would prove he could read minds. And if Flinch could tell what the next card was before I turned it over, that would prove he could see the future. As for Torchie, all he had to do was set the deck on fire. “I’m sure someone has cards. Let me find cards and I’ll show you.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Cheater said as he walked toward the door.

  “Yeah, I’m outta here,” Flinch said. He started to follow Cheater. Then he jumped back. At that instant, Cheater yanked at the door real hard. It flew open and the knob slipped from his hand. If Flinch hadn’t jumped, he’d have gotten hit.

  “See!” I shouted, pointing at Flinch.

  Flinch glanced back at me. “See what? Nothing happened. Forget about it, Martin. It’s not funny.”

  I watched them leave, then plunked down on my bed. “It’s true,” I said to Torchie. “Every single word I said is true. I looked it all up. It’s in the books.” I couldn’t understand why Cheater had gotten so angry. It didn’t make any sense at all. Maybe Flinch was angry about the milk. Okay. I could see that. But still, the stuff I was trying to tell him was way more important than a pair of wet pants.

  Torchie sighed. “It would be nice if you were right,” he said. “I really didn’t start those fires. Honest.”

  “I know,” I told him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to explain. But everyone acted like I was out of my mind. Don’t you see—this means you didn’t do anything bad. At least, not on purpose. You and Flinch and Cheater aren’t like the other kids at Edgeview. You don’t belong here. You’re innocent.” If I could convince Torchie, I figured I could get him to help me with the others.

  But Torchie glared at me. “So the only person who believes me is a crazy kid. And he thinks I’m some kind of freak who can start fires with my mind. Wonderful. Maybe I can get a job in a circus.” He dropped do
wn in his chair and picked up a magazine.

  “But …” I didn’t know what else I could say to convince him. For a moment, I sat on the edge of my bed and watched Torchie. As he read, I could have sworn that I saw a small wisp of smoke rise up from the front cover of the magazine right where he held it. Maybe it was my imagination. I sniffed the air. There seemed to be a faint burnt odor, but our room always smelled like that. I kept watching, but there was no more smoke.

  Why didn’t he believe me? It was so obvious. I thought about all the time I’d spent in the library. Couldn’t they see I was trying to help them out? I’d even missed lunch for them. The least they could do was think about what I’d said. And Torchie—who claimed to be my friend—had let me down the worst. All he had to do was start one stinking little fire while the others were watching and they’d know that I was right. One lousy stinking little fire—that wasn’t a lot to ask. But he hadn’t done it.

  I looked at him, sitting there with his stupid magazine, moving his lips as he read. It was amazing—he was actually stumbling through life totally unaware of his abilities. I got off the bed and walked over to him. There had to be some way to make him understand. When I opened my mouth, the wrong thing came out. “If you were smart, you’d believe me,” I told him. “But I guess you’re not very bright. Face it—you’re probably not even smart enough to be called stupid. You’d need another ten or twenty IQ points to reach that level.”

  Torchie threw down his magazine. He looked like he wanted to stand up and take a swing at me. I almost hoped he would. But he just said, “I’m as smart as I need to be.” He stared at me as if daring me to say another word.

  I kept my mouth shut. Torchie picked up his magazine and went back to reading. I crossed the floor, flopped on my bed, and turned toward the wall. The silence in the room grew heavier with every passing minute, broken only by the rustle of each page that Torchie turned. The crinkle of the paper reminded me of the crackle of a fire.

  I knew I’d been wrong to say those things to him. Wrong and rotten. Just thinking about it made me feel guilty. I took a deep breath, then told him, “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” He still sounded hurt. I knew it wasn’t really okay. He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t know what to say to him.

  Damn. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even fit in with the freaks and misfits. After Torchie and the others had let me into their group so quickly, I figured things might be okay here. It was my own fault—I’d been stupid enough to believe I’d make friends. I sat on my bed and looked around. Torchie was just a few feet from me, and dozens of other kids were right down the hall. There were kids everywhere, but I’d managed to end up alone. Way to go, Martin. From the moment I’d gotten to Edgeview, Torchie had been friendly. Now he didn’t even want to look at me. I stood up and let my eyes wander around the room. The wall above my bed was bare and empty. There was hardly any sign that someone besides Torchie had lived in this space during the last three weeks.

  “I’m going out,” I said.

  He didn’t answer.

  I left the room and walked down the hall, looking at the closed doors lining both sides of the corridor and knowing I had no place to go. Nobody wanted to see me. Nobody cared.

  It felt almost like being at home.

  IN THE CAR COMING BACK TO EDGEVIEW

  Lucky: Mind if I turn on the radio?

  Mr. Calabrizi: As long as it isn’t that modern stuff.

  Lucky: Oldies?

  Mr. Calabrizi: Sure.

  Lucky: Hey, that new kid I told you about last month. Remember?

  Mr. Calabrizi: No.

  Lucky: You know, the one in Torchie’s room?

  Mr. Calabrizi: Right.

  Lucky: I think he might be okay. I wasn’t sure at first, but he seems like an okay guy. I’d trust him on my side if things got tough.

  Mr. Calabrizi: If things get tough, leave the room. Besides, if he’s okay, what’s he doing at Edgeview?

  Lucky: Hey. What about me? I’m there.

  Mr. Calabrizi: [sighing] I know.

  IF I TOLL YOU ONCE

  If I was walking away from a bad situation, I was walking into one that was worse. I realized my mistake halfway down the hall when I came face-to-face with Bloodbath and three of his gang—Grunge, Lip, and the guy with the skull tattoo on his forehead.

  “Hey, this is a toll road,” Bloodbath said, holding his hand out. “Pay up.”

  “I don’t have anything,” I told him, taking a step back.

  Grunge and Lip took two steps forward. “Everyone has something,” Bloodbath said.

  Before I could move, Grunge grabbed me in a headlock. The sharp, ripe smell of his unwashed shirt smacked me like a punch to the nose. I tried to pull away, but his arm tightened, locking around me like a giant handcuff. Lip and Skullface flipped my pockets inside out. Three quarters dropped to the floor, followed by a fluttering green rectangle. I tried not to stare at it.

  “Nothing?” Grunge asked, tightening his grip around my neck. “That don’t look like nothing.”

  Lip scooped up the quarters and handed them to Bloodbath.

  “Next time you lie to me,” Bloodbath said, “I’ll break something. Understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bloodbath glanced down at the floor. Since yesterday when I’d shoved it in my pocket at the arcade, I’d forgotten all about the ticket.

  “What’s that?” Bloodbath asked, tapping the ticket with the toe of his sneaker.

  I came within a breath of saying, It’s from the arcade. But I couldn’t. I’d given my word to keep the secret. Even after the way Torchie and the others had treated me, I wasn’t going to rat them out. At least the ticket had fallen facedown, so it wasn’t obvious that it was an arcade ticket. I tried to remember what was written on the front.

  “Hey!” Grunge snapped, squeezing my neck so hard that things started to turn gray. “The man asked you a question.”

  If he caught me lying, I was dead. “It’s my lucky ticket,” I said. “I’ve had it for years.”

  They all laughed. “Doesn’t seem to be working very well,” Bloodbath said.

  He must have given some signal, because Grunge unclamped his arms from my neck. But Grunge wasn’t quite done. Instead of just letting me go, he pushed me hard. I was already off balance. I staggered and fell.

  “Man, this job pays lousy,” Bloodbath said, jingling the quarters in his hand as he walked away.

  I glared after them, then reached out and turned the ticket over. On the front, in giant letters, it said, MondoVideo. I shoved it back in my pocket.

  As much as I didn’t want to return to the room, it seemed safer than staying in the hall. It wouldn’t be very pleasant to be around if Bloodbath wandered back. There really wasn’t any choice. I headed to the room.

  Torchie didn’t even look up when I came in. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk. If he knew what I’d just been through—if he knew how well I’d kept his secret—maybe he’d feel differently.

  I tried to think of some way to tell him. But I couldn’t think of any way to start. In my mind, I saw myself talking and I saw him just staring, not really caring what I said.

  I don’t care, either, I told myself as I went to sleep. Right. Unlike Bloodbath, I didn’t believe my lies.

  NOW YOU SEE ME, NOW YOU DON’T

  Cheater and Flinch ignored me the next day. Torchie also pretty much acted like I didn’t exist. I don’t know what they told Lucky, but seeing how he already wasn’t my biggest fan, he seemed happy to go along with them.

  I was sitting in math class, thinking about how rotten my former friends were, when Parsons walked up to my desk and said, “Well, Anderson, do you have your homework or don’t you?”

  The words left my mouth like buckshot. “Well, Mr. Parsons, do you have a hairline or don’t you?”

  He grabbed the edge of my desk. “You have detention today, you wise-mouthed little snot. That’s what you have.” He glare
d at me, daring me to say more.

  It would have been smart to keep quiet. But I couldn’t control myself. I was so angry I didn’t even try. “Hey, what ever happened to sticks and stones?” I asked. “You shouldn’t let a few little words bother you. Isn’t that part of your job? Aren’t you supposed to know how to deal with little snots like me? Can’t you handle me?”

  He stood up and backed away a step, his eyes saying he’d be happy to rip off my arms and beat me over the head with them. “Make that a week’s detention.”

  “Fine.” I didn’t care. Detention didn’t matter. I’d just have to sit at a desk for an hour and be quiet. Which would be pretty much like hanging around in my room with Torchie, the way he was treating me.

  I slithered out of math at the end of the period and went to English, hoping I could sulk in peace. No such luck. As soon as the class started, Miss Nomad walked over with my essay and said, “Martin, you did a wonderful job on your assignment. Would you like to share your little composition with the class?”

  Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? “Not really, but I’d bet they’d sure as hell rather hear my little composition than one of your drippy little poems.”

  Man, that was pretty brutal, even by my standards. I thought she was going to take my head off. Of course, she’d do it with a smile. But she whirled away from me and stormed to the front of the room. She didn’t even give me detention.

  Then Mr. Acropolis slammed me against a wall in gym class. I don’t remember what I’d said to him. Apparently, he’d found our conversation displeasing. The back of my head bounced off the wall and everything got kind of blurry for a moment. My head was still ringing when I went into the locker room. I think Bloodbath hit me, too, but I’m really not sure. By then, I just wanted to find a hole where I could bury myself.