The Super Freak

by Brian Falkner

  I tried, but my mind was a blank. ‘But how come you can tell?’ I asked, although the answer was already beginning to dawn on me. ‘How come you spotted me so quickly?’

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ Saltham said, and roared again with laughter.

  Then it all made sense.

  The somersault exercise. I had failed and failed again. I had been convinced I would fail, and then, suddenly, I had been sure I would succeed. That I could do it.

  ‘It was you,’ I said slowly. ‘You made me feel confident.’

  Saltham stood up and said, ‘I’ve got to get to the staffroom.’

  He held the door open for me. I ducked beneath his arm and started to climb the spiral wooden staircase up to the wings of the old stage.

  Saltham called up.

  ‘You’re going to have to make a choice now, Jacob. What to do with it. Your power. Or if you’re going to do anything at all.’

  His voice echoed up out of the gloom. ‘Some people have the ability their whole lives and know it, but never use it. They don’t think it’s right to try to control and manipulate people.’

  He repeated, ‘You’re going to have to make a choice.’

  I shook my head, which hurt from all this sudden and terrifying new information.

  And the Spring Fever School Fair was rapidly approaching.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TURNING THE TABLES

  The next week, Blocker followed me home every night. Three times with Phil and once without. They stopped now at the end of my road, to avoid Gumbo, but it was still nerve-wracking, and I was getting sick of it. They didn’t seem to care if I was with Ben or not.

  Ben wanted to turn around and face them, but I didn’t want to start a fight.

  On the Friday, I had been intending to walk home with Erica, but I sent her a text, making an excuse. I didn’t want her to have to endure Blocker and Phil’s attention. By now, I was so worked up about it I decided to change the rules of the game. I was mad at having to walk home feeling frightened, and I was mad at missing out on walking home with Erica.

  So I turned the tables on them.

  I asked Ben to walk home by himself and explained why. He nodded and trotted mechanically off. I hid behind some trees by the side of A Block and watched Blocker and Phil watching Ben walk away.

  They were pretty persistent. They waited until nearly four o’clock for me before giving up and heading off.

  I snuck out from behind the trees and followed them.

  Look straight ahead, I thought at them. Don’t look back.

  Old Saltham might not feel comfortable about trying to control those around him, but I had no such qualms. Especially when it came to Blocker Blüchner.

  Blocker and Phil kept their eyes straight ahead. They never even glanced at each other while they talked about sports and the GWF.

  I grew more and more daring as we walked and kept up a constant flow of the look straight ahead messages. I walked closer and closer behind them, almost as close as they had been doing to me.

  I dropped back a bit though when they turned down the short lane into Acorn Park. No sense in being silly about it.

  They passed the old stump, now fumigated by the council and dead as a doorknob, and followed the concrete path through the trees.

  At that point Blocker said, ‘How about a game of Bench Seat Hockey?’

  Phil just shook his head, but that didn’t discourage Blocker. They approached a long wooden bench seat in the park and Blocker, with some disgusting noises in the back of his nose and throat, summonsed up an almighty hock, which he spat on to the seat with relish, right where anyone would sit.

  I screwed my face up.

  ‘Hockey one!’ Blocker cried, triumphantly.

  The next bench seat was ‘Hockey two,’ and the next ‘Hockey three,’ and then they were out of the park, but that didn’t stop Blocker. They passed a bus stop, and that seat got the hockey treatment.

  ‘I am the hock-meister,’ Blocker yelled.

  I was disgusted, and I don’t think Phil was all that impressed either. He wasn’t saying anything, but there was something about the shape of his shoulders which gave me an idea.

  Blocker was going on about what a dumb-ass Tupai White was, and how he could thrash him if he didn’t always have his friends around him. It was utter crap, but I think Blocker almost believed it.

  They got to the next bus stop, and Blocker hocked it good, then threw his head back and crowed, ‘Hock-a-doodle do.’

  I aimed my full power at the back of Phil’s head.

  What a jerk. What a jerk. What a jerk.

  I guess I was aiming to sow a bit of disharmony in the ranks of my enemy, but I was unprepared for the reaction.

  Phil said with a great depth of feeling, ‘You’re a jerk sometimes, Blocker.’

  Blocker froze. I ducked into someone’s driveway and hid behind a pohutukawa tree.

  ‘What?’ Blocker said incredulously.

  ‘You’re a real jerk,’ Phil said, and I noticed he had left out the ‘sometimes’.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you, all of a sudden?’

  Phil looked suddenly nervous, but he didn’t back down. ‘All this seat bench stuff, it’s stupid. And following the frea … Jacob … home every day. What’s the point?’

  ‘Are you wussing out on me?’ Blocker loomed over Phil, who was tall and strong but not as big as Blocker.

  ‘Just grow up a bit.’

  ‘You dirt-bag!’ Blocker grabbed Phil by the shirt.

  ‘Get off me, you loser!’ Phil shouted, and that was when Blocker hit him.

  Phil hit him back, hard, and Blocker doubled up for a second but, before Phil could do anything else, Blocker charged at him, bowling him over into a flower garden and raining punches on to him.

  I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t expected this at all.

  Phil was hitting back but he was out of his weight division and he was pinned underneath. I could see he was in a lot of trouble, which had been my intention, but not quite like this.

  At that point the front door of the house next door opened and a face I recognised came running out. It was Jenny Kreisler from our class.

  ‘Get off him,’ she shrieked. ‘Leave him alone!’

  That didn’t help at all. It was a right old scrap, and Phil was clearly getting the worst of it.

  I almost came running out to help, although I was sure that would only make matters worse, when Jenny marched right up to them, grabbed Blocker by the hair and wrenched him off.

  He nearly took a swing at her in his rage but stopped himself just in time.

  ‘Get out of here!’ Jenny shrieked at him. Other doors were starting to open now, lace curtains were being drawn back. Blocker stumbled off, mumbling to himself.

  Phil hadn’t moved.

  I was quite a few metres away down the street and still out of sight, so I just stayed put as Jenny helped Phil to his feet and took him inside her house. His face was a bloody mess.

  When her door was closed, I casually walked by as if I had seen nothing.

  I wasn’t at all sure whether to feel guilty or not.

  TWENTY-SIX

  MY FIRST DATE

  That Saturday night I took Erica to the movies. I dressed in my best jeans and a trendy, but second-hand, jacket, which had taken what little savings I had. What did it matter? I reasoned. I would soon have as much money as I could spend.

  I went to the garage to get my bike and noticed that one of Dad’s tools was missing. A chisel, judging by the empty black outline left on the pegboard. That was a little strange, as he always put everything back. I knew he wasn’t using it, because he was out at his Shortland Street audition.

  The Shortland Street audition! I had forgotten all about it in my excitement. There seemed to be so many good things happening at the moment, and if Dad won the audition then that would just cap it all off!

  I cycled to Erica’s place, and we caught the bus into the city. I didn’
t really like the idea of catching the bus, it wasn’t very romantic, but we didn’t have much choice.

  Dad always said that real people travelled by bus. That you never met anyone interesting sitting alone in a car. On a bus, he said, you plugged directly into the pumping heart of humanity.

  But I think he just said that because we couldn’t afford a car.

  I’d never been on a date with a girl and I wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, did it involve kissing and stuff? In the end, we went to the big Sky City Multiplex and sat in comfortable leather chairs. About halfway through the movie Erica’s hand slipped quietly into mine, and we just stayed like that while Jennifer Love Hewitt got really upset about something I couldn’t understand and Will Smith took his shirt off a lot.

  Afterwards, Erica gave me a quick peck on the cheek, like the darting glance of a bird, before the bus came, and that, really, was that.

  My first date.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  DRY RUN

  In preparation for the school fair, tonnes of items had poured in for the huge white elephant stall. The flotsam and jetsam of households throughout the school’s catchment area. It was like a gigantic garage sale.

  I passed piles of the stuff heaped up on the netball court on Monday morning, and on Monday afternoon kids were asked to volunteer to help sort and price it.

  Ben automatically volunteered. Part of his duty as a student councillor, I suppose. I stuck my hand up, too, although I had reasons of my own.

  Big things like lawnmowers and bicycles, bed frames and old washing machines were being moved around.

  As far as I could tell, they were just taking stuff from one pile and putting it in another, without improving things at all. But I suppose they had a plan.

  Blocker and Phil were both helping. I suspect all the rugby teams had been drafted in to help with the heavier items. I noticed that Phil had a black eye and a sliver of sticking plaster across his lip. He didn’t talk to Blocker at all, and the silence was returned tenfold.

  I had to get closer to Blocker than I would have liked when one of the parent helpers asked the two of us to pick up each end of a rusty barbecue. I kept my face blank, but Blocker was not so circumspect. He scowled at me, and his eyes were black with malice.

  Something was brewing inside him, and I was afraid of what would happen when it finally boiled over. Emilio had changed schools and Blocker didn’t really have any other friends, apart from Phil. I knew what that was like and I could almost feel sorry for him.

  Blocker and I placed the barbecue where we were told and, with a small sigh of relief, I went to look for something else to do.

  Ben was trying to lift an old toilet pan but it was a bit too heavy for him, so I went to give him a hand. I hoped it was clean!

  We shoved a few things here and there under the directions of the parent helpers, and, the whole time, my mind was on my special power. On what Saltham had said.

  How many people have you told?

  We stopped for a drink of water after about an hour, and that was when I finally told my best friend in the world, my biggest secret in the world.

  ‘Have you ever tried to control someone’s mind?’ I asked him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ben asked, with a slightly worried expression.

  ‘Like, tried to make someone think certain thoughts, just by focusing your own thoughts on their brain.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think you would be able to?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I can.’

  There was silence while he thought about it for a while.

  I said, ‘Do you remember when Frau Blüchner wrote “knickers” on the blackboard? I made her do that.’

  ‘No way!’ Ben exclaimed.

  ‘Yep. I’ll prove it if you want.’

  ‘OK, make me think of something.’

  ‘OK then.’

  He looked at me and I focused myself on his brain and thought.

  Chocolate ice-cream, chocolate ice-cream, chocolate ice-cream.

  ‘Are you doing it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, what are you thinking about at the moment?’ I asked confidently.

  He shook his head. ‘About how stupid you look when you frown like that.’

  I was a bit surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I thought for a moment. ‘OK, I’ll try again.’

  Scratch your nose, scratch your nose, scratch your nose.

  Ben blinked a couple of times but that was it. ‘You’re having me on about this aren’t you?’

  ‘No!’ I insisted. ‘Look, let me try it on someone else.’ I looked around and saw Jordan Hoffman-Herbert treading his way carefully amongst an old china tea set spread out on a tartan picnic rug.

  ‘See Jordan over there. I’ll make him pick up the cup with the broken handle, then put it back down again.’

  Ben watched. I concentrated.

  Pick up the broken cup.

  After a second Jordan bent down and picked up the cup with the broken handle.

  It’s no good, put it back down.

  He placed it back on the rug.

  ‘And again,’ I said.

  Pick it up again, put it down again.

  Jordan picked the cup up, as if noticing it for the first time, then replaced it.

  ‘Wow,’ Ben said.

  Pick it up, put it down.

  I tried to make him do it a third time, but he turned away.

  ‘Believe me now?’ I asked.

  Ben stared at me, not sure what to think. One thought was troubling me though. My power hadn’t worked on Ben at all. Maybe he had been concentrating too hard. It seemed to work best when people weren’t concentrating. As if, somehow, I could slip thoughts into absent minds.

  But then again I suppose you wouldn’t expect it to work on a robot, would you?

  Smaller or more valuable items, like crockery and cutlery, clocks and old jewellery were taken to the staffroom to sort out. I put a few such things into a cardboard carton and headed in that direction.

  I went via the entrance from the foyer. It took longer, but I did it deliberately.

  I walked through the doors into the admin block. On Fair Day there would be a security guard of some sort here. But that was part of my plan, and I knew how I would deal with it.

  I passed Curtis’s office where the money would be stored for safekeeping and barely glanced at the records room, where the counting would be done. Through the window I saw Mr Saltham walk into the staffroom, and I cringed inside and half-ducked, but he didn’t see me.

  My plan was beautiful in its simplicity. It was elegant, ingenious, and almost foolproof.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t totally convinced now that I actually wanted to go through with it. I was feeling troubled as I took my box into the staffroom and placed it on a table with a bunch of other boxes filled with similar bric-a-brac.

  Through the window I saw Erica in the distance, walking with Stacey Anderson and Chelsie Burnett. She was relaxed and happy, and I felt an incredible warmth just watching her. She was talking with her hands. It was a habit of hers, I had discovered, once she felt comfortable with you. While she was nervous and shy her hands stayed by her side but, once she relaxed, then those hands started flying around.

  I liked it. It made her seem lively and animated. And it was good to see her getting on so well with Stacey and Chelsie. I had whispered in a few ears about how shy Erica was and that she was really nice once you got to know her.

  A few weeks ago, nobody would have listened to Jacob the Freak. But Jacob the Hero was a different story.

  Watching Erica walk by with her new friends gave me a good feeling inside. A big, warm, fuzzy emotion that I didn’t know the name for.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  DETENTION TIMES TWO

  Erica sat on the opposite side of the detention room and smiled at me across the top of the book she was reading.

  There was no essay today. Mrs Pepperman was in char
ge of detention, and, like me, she didn’t believe in writing as a form of punishment. Instead, she said we could read for the half hour.

  It was pretty strange, sitting in detention with Erica McDonald. I mean, it was strange for her to be there. The detention room was almost my second home, but this was Erica’s first detention.

  I hadn’t really done anything wrong. I had just mucked up my timetable and turned up for one class when I was supposed to be at another class, which was on the other side of the school. So, I had walked in ten minutes late and got slapped with a detention.

  I don’t think the crime deserved the punishment, and I did have a good reason, but, by now, some teachers seemed to be so used to giving me detention that it just happened automatically. Maybe I was on a blacklist somewhere.

  Erica was in detention because of the missing ferret affair.

  What had happened was this.

  Jenny Kreisler had had a rabbit named George, but it had died. Sandra Greathouse was getting a guinea pig but didn’t have a cage to keep it in, so Jenny had offered to lend her George’s travel cage.

  Jenny brought the cage to school and left it beside her desk in history while she went to get something from her locker.

  Doddery old Mr Toppler walked in and tripped over the cage, knocking it halfway across the room.

  ‘What’s this doing here?’ he demanded angrily.

  Erica just happened to be standing there, and I guess she had been hanging around me too long and something must have rubbed off, because she said, on the spur of the moment, ‘That’s my ferret Wilbur.’

  ‘Ferret?’ Mr Toppler said, rubbing his ankle. ‘What ferret?’

  Erica rushed around the front of her desk and clapped her hands to her face. She squealed, ‘Oh, no! Wilbur’s escaped.’

  Mr Toppler wasted no time. ‘Quickly children,’ he shouted, ‘find that ferret before it gets out of the classroom.’

  The kids thought this sounded like much more fun than another boring history lesson, and quickly began searching under desks, inside schoolbags and cupboards, as if they thought there really was a ferret, although they were, of course, all in on the joke.