by Lubar, David
Cheater crouched, then leaped. Trash grunted again, pushing Cheater higher in the air. As Cheater flew up, he shouted, “Hiyaaaa!” and snapped out a kick. The stick split with a sharp crack, breaking right where Torchie had burned it. As the pieces twirled through the air, two of the kids in the mob ran away.
Trash leaped forward, slashing out with the edge of his right hand. He hit one of the pieces as it fell. The piece flew like it had been blasted from a cannon. It shot across the street in a high arc, sailing over the cars that were parked along the other side of the road.
The night fell dead quiet as everyone watched. Nobody moved or breathed until the stick crashed through the front window of a house across the street. The sound of breaking glass is one of the few things on earth that can send any kid scurrying.
The Edgies took off.
Walden was right there with them. He didn’t even stop to grab his jacket.
Between the performance we’d put on and the fear of getting blamed for the window, I guess they’d decided it was a good idea to leave the scene. So did we. As the porch light went on in the house across the street, we raced to the woods and headed into the pipe.
“We were awesome,” Flinch said. “What a team.”
“That was so cool,” Torchie said. “I knew Cheater would figure out what I was thinking about chopping the stick. But I never would have thought up the kick part. That was so great.”
“Yeah, nice move with the stick,” Lucky said. “You, too, Trash.”
“Nice and stupid,” Trash said. “I almost broke my hand when I hit it. But it was worth it to see their faces.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t think we’re going to get any more trouble from Edgies.”
We pushed aside the manhole cover and climbed up to the school yard. I never thought I’d view it as a safe harbor. At the moment, I was glad to be back.
Between our victory over the Edgies and our smashing success at pinball, we were one happy crowd as we went toward the back wall.
“Me first,” Cheater said, rushing to the ladder.
“Sssshhhh,” I warned. “Someone will hear us.”
“Who cares?” Torchie asked. “We’re the champs.”
“Champs!” Lucky shouted.
“Alters forever!” I yelled.
We all rushed at the ladder and started wrestling, getting wet and white and half frozen in the remaining snow. We ended up in a laughing, hitting tangle, with nobody trying seriously to go back up to Lucky’s room. Finally, we all collapsed on the ground.
“We’d better get back inside,” I said when I’d caught my breath.
“Winners first,” Flinch said, pointing to Trash.
Trash shook his head. “No, that’s okay. You take the lead, my man.”
Flinch smiled, got up from the ground, shoved his trophy under his belt, and grabbed the ladder. He was more than halfway up the side of the building when he froze. An instant later, I froze, too, as I saw a head pop out from Lucky’s window high above us.
“Look what we have here,” Bloodbath said, his grin gleaming in the moonlight like a dagger of ice.
NEWSPAPER ADS IN MR. LANGHORN’S DESK DRAWER
A DECLARATION OF WAR
The most awful part for me, standing on the ground, was watching Flinch as he tried to scramble down the ladder. I knew he must have seen what was going to happen before it happened. But there was nothing he could do. He was too far up.
“Have a nice trip,” Bloodbath called. He leaned back and lifted his foot.
A loud snap shot through the winter silence. My stomach lurched as I realized Bloodbath had broken the stick that held the ladder in the window. Unlike when Cheater had broken the branch, this wasn’t a harmless trick. The ropes, stretched tight a moment before, turned limp and useless. Flinch fell. The fall seemed to take forever, but for that whole dreadful stretch of nightmare time, I couldn’t move. In my mind, I tried frantically to think of some way to help, to catch Flinch or break his fall. In front of my eyes, he tumbled away from the wall, his hands out in front of him like someone trying to hold off a monster. But the monster was the Earth. And nothing he did could hold it off.
The sound Flinch made when he hit was hardly more than a dull thump, muffled by the snow. But it jolted through me from my groin straight up to my guts.
We rushed over.
Flinch was sprawled on the ground. Oh man—he looked like a football player who’d just been hit so hard you knew he wasn’t getting up. I knelt next to him, but I had no idea what to do.
Torchie reached out and touched Flinch’s shoulder. “Flinch. Hey. You okay?”
There was a faint sound. Crazy as the thought was, it reminded me of a chicken clucking. I listened more closely and realized it was Flinch, swearing quietly, saying the same word over and over.
“Flinch?” I asked.
He turned his head toward me. “Hurts …”
“Don’t move,” Torchie told him.
Flinch shook his head. “Freezing …” He reached out with his left hand. I grabbed it and held still, letting him raise himself. I was afraid I’d hurt him if I pulled. Flinch staggered to his feet, pieces of the broken trophy falling from his belt. His right arm dangled at his side, the hand twisted at an angle I didn’t want to think about.
I looked up at the window. “We’ve got to get you taken care of.”
“Don’t want you in trouble …” Flinch said, gritting out the words through what must have been a terrible amount of pain. “They find out … no more trips …”
“Don’t worry about it.” I helped him walk around the building. Torchie went to grab the ladder, then caught up with us.
Trash tried to open the front door. It was locked. There was no way we could get in without waking somebody.
“We have to knock,” I said.
Trash shook his head. He stood there for a moment with his fists clenched. I heard a soft click. Then Trash reached up again and opened the door.
We got Flinch inside and up to the second floor. “Lie here,” I told him. “I’ll say you fell down the steps going to the bathroom. The rest of you get back upstairs.”
Flinch nodded, then gasped something.
“What?” I asked, leaning closer to him.
“Snow,” he said, pointing to my pants.
I brushed myself off, then got as much snow off Flinch as I could without hurting him. I was about to go for help when Flinch spoke again.
“Jackets,” he said.
“What?” I asked. Then I realized what he meant. I took off my jacket, then helped him with his. As careful as I was, I knew I hurt him when I slipped his right arm out of the sleeve. I tossed the jackets up toward the top of the steps. Then I rushed to see who had night duty.
It was Mr. Briggs. Before he could start thinking I’d come by for company, counseling, or a pleasant conversation, I told him, “Flinch fell down the stairs.”
As soon as Mr. Briggs saw Flinch he said, “I’d better stay with him. Go back to my room and call an ambulance.” He knelt next to Flinch, put a hand on his shoulder, and told him, “Hang in there … .”
When I got back from Mr. Briggs’s room, I saw Lucky watching from the top of the steps. He ducked away when the men came with the stretcher.
After they took Flinch to the hospital, I went back to the room to tell the others what had happened. None of the rest of us could sleep. We sat in the room and waited. All of us were pretty wound up, but Lucky was the worst. He kept pacing back and forth. The way he acted reminded me of my dad every time he tried to quit smoking. After about an hour of pacing, Lucky dashed out of the room.
“What’s up with him?” Torchie asked.
“No idea,” I said. Though I had a suspicion.
Lucky returned a couple minutes later. He stopped pacing, but he looked really strange. Nobody asked him what was going on. Nobody said much of anything.
Early the next morning, Flinch got back from the hospital. His arm was in a cast.
“B
roken?” I asked.
He nodded.
“This is war,” Lucky said.
“Yeah,” I agreed with him. “It’s time to pay Bloodbath back.”
“How?” Torchie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But sooner or later, we’ll get a chance.”
That chance came sooner than I’d expected.
FEELINGS AND THOUGHTS
PRISCILLA NOMAD
POLITICS
Saturday afternoon, I got fetched down to Principal Davis’s office. I guess he wanted information about Flinch’s accident. I wasn’t happy about sitting there. Waiting to see the principal was no big deal—it was a fairly common experience for me—and sticking with the story was no problem. But I wasn’t alone. Bloodbath was there, too, waiting his turn and casually peeling strips of vinyl from the back of the chair next to him. Five other seats were also filled. From what I’d seen, Davis caught up with discipline on the weekends. I guess he didn’t have any hobbies at home.
“Whatcha do?” Bloodbath asked, glancing toward me without the faintest sign of recognition. I realized he had no idea I’d been in the yard last night. He didn’t know, or care, who’d been outside that window. He didn’t care who he hurt. I wanted to grab him and shout, I’m here because you almost killed my friend ! But that wouldn’t do any good.
There was no reason to make him suspicious. As much as I hated the idea of talking with him, I decided the best approach would be to act naturally. “Got in trouble with Parsons yesterday,” I told him, selecting a safe reply. “You?” I figured that if I kept him distracted, he wouldn’t grow bored with the chair and decide to start peeling pieces off of me instead. I really wanted to hit him, but I knew I’d never get away with that.
He shrugged. “I wrote my name in the wrong place.”
“On a desk?” I asked.
“Nah, on some runt’s face.” He laughed, producing a sound I thought could only come from a baboon. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a marking pen. “Want me to show you?”
“No thanks.” I fought the urge to switch seats.
He uncapped the pen, releasing a strong chemical odor into the air. “You sure?”
I could see it was one of those pens with the ink that didn’t come off. This was getting out of hand. I had to get Bloodbath’s mind away from using my forehead for a sketch pad.
Behind Principal Davis’s door, a phone rang. A minute later, I heard the phone being slammed down.
“Ridiculous. They’re moving up the inspection—because of pressure from the town. They can’t do this to us! We were supposed to have the rest of the year. We aren’t ready. They’re coming this Friday.”
Bloodbath and I both turned toward Principal Davis’s door. It was him shouting. No mistaking that voice. I heard another familiar voice—Mr. Langhorn. Maybe they were having their shouters’ club meeting.
“I thought the mayor was on our side,” Mr. Langhorn said.
“Not anymore,” Principal Davis said. “Apparently Mayor Walden changed his mind. I just found out he’s been on the phone all morning calling in favors.”
“Walden has a lot of powerful friends,” Mr. Langhorn said.
“Oh crap,” I muttered, seeing an image of that jacket on the street. Walden. We’d picked a fight with the mayor’s son. Worse, he left his jacket right across the street from where we’d broken that window. One way or another, he was going to tell his father that the school was involved. Even if he had no proof, he could cause trouble.
“If they want to move the date, there’s nothing we can do about it,” Langhorn said. “Let’s hope they like what they see.”
“If they don’t, they’ll approve the merger plan,” Principal Davis said. “I heard they’re looking at a building in Riverside Junction. It’ll save money, and that’s all they care about. Pack everyone together in one huge mess of a school. You know they’ll have more students for each teacher. Half of us will be out of a job when that happens. The worst part is, they don’t care about the students. We’re the only ones who really care.”
I listened to the rest of it. A few minutes later, Principal Davis stepped out from his office. “Go away,” he said. “I’ve got other problems. I’ll deal with all of you later.” He and Langhorn walked down the hall.
“Cool,” Bloodbath said. He slipped out of the chair and headed for the outer door of the office. As he was leaving, he glanced back at me and said, “Guess this is our chance to bring Edgeview down. One huge mess of a school. That’s what Davis said. Sounds like my kind of place.”
Bring the place down? I didn’t like the sound of that. I waited until I was sure Bloodbath was far enough away so he wouldn’t change his mind about writing his name on my head. Then I hurried upstairs and told the others what I’d heard.
“What’s that have to do with us?” Torchie asked.
“If Bloodbath wants something, we want the opposite. No matter what. If Bloodbath wants to screw up the inspection, then we want the school to pass,” I said. I didn’t tell them the part about the mayor’s son. They were so proud about standing up for themselves, I couldn’t let them know that we were probably the reason the inspection was rescheduled.
“Why should we care about the school?” Lucky asked.
“Because we don’t know where we’ll end up if they close Edgeview,” I said. “It could be some big place. They’re talking about Riverside Junction. That’s real far from here. Your parents might not come for you as often. That’s not all. We might get split up. They could put us in different classes. Different rooms. How’d you like to end up with Bloodbath or Grunge for a roommate? How’d you like to have a bunch of teachers like Mr. Langhorn? It could happen. This place might be hell, but at least it’s our hell. We have to stop Bloodbath.”
There was silence in the room for a moment as that sunk in.
“You really want to stop Bloodbath, don’t you, Martin?” Torchie asked.
“Yeah.”
Torchie nodded. “Then I guess that’s what we want, too.”
“But who knows what they might try?” Flinch asked.
“Right,” Lucky said. “Who knows?”
At that moment, all the rest of us turned toward Cheater. “Who knows?” we all said. Then we all shouted the answer. “Cheater knows!”
“What?” Cheater said.
“You can find out their plans,” I told him. “Then we can stop them.”
“It sounds kind of dangerous,” Cheater said. “How can we stop Bloodbath and his gang? They’re too tough.”
“We’re smarter.”
I looked over at the source of those words.
Trash spoke quietly from his seat on the floor. “Between us, we’ve got a lot more brains than those thugs. And we have a few secrets. Watch this.”
WHY I LIKE BEING ME
EDDIE THALMAYER
LOST AND FOUND
Trash stared at Torchie’s desk, one corner of his mouth still turned up in a grin. Torchie’s notebook rose slowly and gracefully into the air. Then it opened and the pages started to turn, one by one. Three pencils floated up to join the book, each drifting in a different pattern. All three pencils moved to the paper and began drawing. My jaw dropped as I watched. The demonstration only lasted for about twenty seconds. Then the notebook shot straight up, slamming into the ceiling so hard that little chips of paint dropped down. The pencils spun across the room. Two of them bounced off the wall while the third stuck point-first, quivering in the plaster. Everything else ended up on the floor.
“Oops,” Trash said. “Still a bit rough at all of this. Guess I need more practice.”
“Looks like you’ve been practicing a lot,” I said. This went far beyond just throwing stuff.
Trash shrugged and grinned.
“So you think we can do it?” Flinch asked me. “Do you really think we can beat Bloodbath?”
“Sure. We’ll figure something out.” I realized that the others were looking toward me as the l
eader. That was a mistake. But I’d step aside as soon as I figured out who should really take charge. “We have less than a week. The inspection is on Friday.”
The rest of the day passed quietly. We spent most of the time in the room. With all of us urging him to find out what he could, Cheater looked for a way to get close to Bloodbath, but he didn’t come up with anything. Trash worked so hard on his talents he reminded me of a warrior training for combat. Torchie practiced his fire control. Flinch killed time describing various ways he could use his cast to rearrange Bloodbath’s face. Lucky didn’t say much, but he did wander into the halls once in a while, usually returning with an object or two he’d found. I watched the five of them and wished I was really part of the group.
Sunday afternoon, when Lucky didn’t come to the room, I went down the hall to see him.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He was sitting on his bed, staring at something. He raised his hand to show me what he had.
“Oh no.” I took the wallet from him and flipped it open. My gut tightened as I recognized the picture on the driver’s license. I didn’t even have to read the name. “Where’d you get this?” I asked, handing it back to him.
“I found it on the steps,” he said.
I remembered how Lucky had gone out while we were waiting for Flinch to come back from the hospital. The wallet must have fallen from Mr. Briggs’s pocket when he was kneeling down to help Flinch. “You have to return it,” I said as I handed it back to him.
Lucky shook his head. “They’ll nail me,” he said. “Or throw me in jail.”
I’d figured there was something he hadn’t told us about his power. “You hear stuff, right? That’s how you find things.”
“I’m not crazy,” Lucky said.
“I never said you were. Tell me about it. Do you hear the things you find?”
Lucky nodded. “Lost objects, mostly. Sometimes hidden things, too. They whisper to me. If I pick them up, the voices stop. If I don’t, they get louder.”
“Well, just put the wallet where he’ll find it,” I said.