The Gate Thief

by Orson Scott Card

  “Then forget it,” said Lieder. “I don’t need a defiant little asshole like you.”

  “Your call,” said Danny. “I offered, and you turned me down. Now I don’t have to hear any more complaints from Mr. Massey.”

  “You didn’t offer shit,” said Lieder, getting even quieter as he took a step down from the door. “If you’re on the team, then you have to play by the same rules as the other kids.”

  So Lieder still wanted him. Danny must have been pretty fast.

  “I can see how you wouldn’t want to have one student getting special treatment,” said Danny. “But I don’t have any choice. My time isn’t my own. I sometimes have to pick up and be somewhere. It’s not my call, and I don’t want to have to put up with crap about it if I miss practice.”

  “So go, then. Thanks for waking me up, you little prick.”

  “Cool,” said Danny. He turned away, headed back to the street.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this,” said Lieder.

  Danny turned around and came right back up to the porch. “Yes I have,” said Danny.

  “You’re a student. Unless your parents provide you with a note for each and every absence, you aren’t going to get away with disappearing whenever you want.”

  “I stay throughout the school day,” said Danny. “I don’t miss classes. But before and after school, there’s stuff I have to do. I offered to share that time with the track team, as much as I can. That wasn’t enough for you. I get it—I even agree with you. I shouldn’t be on the team. But that’s it. No more crap about it. I let you time me and you didn’t want me enough to take me on the only terms on which I’m available.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” asked Lieder, the bully in him at last coming out, his voice rising. “You sound like you think you’re some world-class star, negotiating with a pro team. You’re a minor, and a student, and the law says you belong in school, and the school says I’m a teacher with authority over you.”

  “What is it?” asked a weak voice from behind Lieder. A woman’s voice—barely. It was such a husky whisper that it would have been hard to tell, if Lieder hadn’t whirled around, revealing a little old woman in the doorway.

  A small woman—just the right size for bullying, thought Danny.

  But no, Lieder had been trying not to disturb her. And now that Danny looked closely, he saw that the woman wasn’t old, just faded and sagging. Not his mother, as he had first supposed. Nor was she small—or at least, she wasn’t short. Average height, and since Lieder was no giant, they looked about right together as man and wife. Except that she was wasting away. Something was seriously wrong with her, her robe hung on her as if she were a child wearing a woman’s dress.

  Cancer, thought Danny. At home Lieder deals with a wife dying of cancer or something just as bad. Then he comes to school and takes it out on the kids.

  On Danny’s tall and skinny friend Hal. It was because Lieder was humiliating Hal that Danny had made a series of gates to help Hal get up the hanging rope to the ceiling of the gym yesterday. A series of gates that intertwined and turned out to be the start of a Great Gate.

  It was too easy, to think that a dying wife was the reason Lieder was a bully. It came too naturally to Lieder, a habit, an aspect of his personality. He was probably always a bully. Only now he’s a bully with something else to worry about.

  “It’s all right, Nicki,” said Lieder.

  “Why don’t you invite this boy inside?” asked Nicki. “He looks cold.”

  “I’m fine,” said Danny.

  “He’s fine,” said Lieder.

  “Come in and have some cocoa,” said Nicki.

  “He has to get to school,” said Lieder, “and so do I.”

  Danny had been willing to shrug off the invitation before, but the woman was insisting, and the trickster in Danny couldn’t help but enjoy the fun. Plus, he was tired and cold and pissed off at Lieder. “Actually,” said Danny, “I don’t have to be there till eight-thirty. I’m not on one of those teams that practices before school.”

  “But cocoa’s not good for my athletes,” said Lieder.

  “I think of it as an energy drink,” said Danny. “And I could sure use some warming up.”

  “Come on in, then,” said Nicki.

  As Danny came past him, heading for the door, Lieder gripped him harshly by the shoulder and whispered fiercely in his ear, “You’re not coming into my house.”

  “What?” said Danny loudly. “I couldn’t hear you.”

  Lieder didn’t let go. “You heard me,” he whispered.

  Danny gated himself just an inch away. Yesterday morning he couldn’t have done that—created a gate and passed it over himself so tightly that it took only his own body and clothing, and not Lieder’s hand. But the gates he had stolen from the Gate Thief last night consisted of the outselves of hundreds of gatemages, and every one of them had been a trickster during his life, and every one of them had had more skill than Danny. He had managed to contain them in his hearthoard—his stash—but wherever that was kept inside him, he was able to access some of their knowledge, or at least some of their experience and reflexes and habits and talents.

  He must have absorbed these things unconsciously, because he hadn’t thought of doing it, he had simply done it.

  If I had known how to do this last year, in Washington, I wouldn’t have had to drag that murderous thug with Eric when I gated him out of the back room of that convenience store.

  But there was something else that happened, something Danny hadn’t expected. When he gated himself an inch without moving Lieder’s tight-gripping hand, it moved his own body into space that Lieder’s fingers occupied. Lieder’s fingers were ejected from that space at such speed that the bones didn’t just break, they were pulverized.

  Danny heard the gasp of pain, then saw the limp and empty-looking fingers and realized at once what had happened. Before Lieder had time to turn the inhaled gasp into an exhaled scream of agony, Danny passed a gate over Lieder’s body, which healed him instantly.

  That meant Lieder no longer felt the pain, but he still remembered it, very clearly.

  “Don’t ever touch me like that again,” said Danny.

  “Come in and join us, daddy,” said Nicki from the other room. Apparently they were one of those married couples who still called each other mommy and daddy long after their children were grown. “You have time. The kids will just run laps till you get there.”

  Danny knew that the kids would sit around chatting or napping, but he had no reason to disabuse Nicki of her fantasy. He had to deal with Lieder, whose face was still showing the shock and horror of that pain.

  “Don’t you learn anything?” asked Danny softly. “When I tell you that there are some things I’m going to do, whether you like them or not, it’s a good idea to believe me and step aside.”

  “This is my home,” whispered Lieder.

  “And that was my shoulder you were gripping,” said Danny. “Boundaries, Coach Lieder.”

  Danny walked into Lieder’s house.

  Lieder stayed outside for a while. No doubt trying to figure out what it was, exactly, that Danny had done. What had it felt like to him? Agony, yes—but had he understood that for a moment, his fingerbones had become tiny shards inside limp sacks of skin? Had he felt Danny move by an inch, instantaneously, or had he registered it only as Danny pulling away with incredible strength?

  Danny walked into the house and quickly found the kitchen, where apparently the cocoa was already made, for Nicki was pouring it into three cups. She moved slowly. She held the pitcher with two hands. It trembled in her grip—if it could be called a grip. Danny half-expected it to slip out of her fingers at any moment. No wonder Lieder didn’t want his wife trying to show him hospitality.

  It was not deliberate, not planned. More of a reflex, as if Danny had seen the pitcher slipping from her grasp and lunged out to catch it. Only the pitcher was not slipping, and he didn’t lunge with
his hands. Instead, he sent out a gate, passed it over her, around her, and brought her out of it without having moved her more than a hairsbreadth from where she stood.

  She seemed to register it as a shudder. “Oh, someone stepped on my grave,” she said, with a tiny laugh, and then flinched as if she expected to cough, only she didn’t cough.

  Because passing a gate over her had healed her. It always did. Whatever was wrong with a person, passing through a gate always healed it, as long as their body parts were still attached and they weren’t fully dead.

  Not that she immediately became strong and hale—she looked completely unchanged. Except that her hand didn’t tremble holding the pitcher, and there was color in her cheeks and she didn’t seem so fragile as she continued pouring. “Isn’t that odd,” she said. “I felt a chill, and yet now I’m suddenly warm. I’m never warm anymore, but I am right now.”

  “Furnaces are like that,” said Danny. “One minute you’re cold, the next you’re hot. But remember, you’re holding a pot of hot cocoa.”

  “Of course,” she said. “No wonder I’m warm! I should feel downright hot.”

  “It’s nice of you to give this to me,” said Danny. “I don’t usually eat breakfast, but it’s cold enough today that even a good run didn’t warm me up the way it usually does.”

  She laughed as she set down the pitcher. The cups were full. Then covered her mouth. “I don’t know why I laughed,” she said. “Nothing you said was funny.”

  “But I said it in a funny way,” said Danny.

  “You say everything in a funny way,” she said.

  “I lived in Ohio for a while, but I didn’t think I picked up an accent.”

  “No, not an accent,” she said. “You talk as if you got the joke, but didn’t really expect me to get it. Only just now I think I did get it. Isn’t that funny?”

  Danny smiled. And as he looked at her, he realized that the hand to the mouth, the way she was looking at the cups instead of at him—this woman was shy.

  Not really shy. Just sort of generally embarrassed. He saw this all the time, but not with adults. No, he saw it at high school. He saw it with girls when some guy talked to them. A guy she kind of liked, or maybe liked a lot, and she couldn’t believe he was paying attention to her.

  This isn’t Coach Lieder’s wife, thought Danny. This is his daughter.

  She called him daddy, not by the habit of a husband and wife, but because he really was her father.

  “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” asked Danny.

  “How old do you think?” she asked. But her face showed that she hated the question.

  “I’m deciding between sixteen and eighteen,” said Danny.

  “What’s wrong with seventeen?” she asked. But there was relief in her voice. Nobody had guessed so young an age in a long time. How could they?

  “Seventeen is a nothing age,” said Danny. “Sixteen is driving and eighteen is voting.”

  “You can get into R-rated movies by yourself at seventeen,” said Nicki. “Not that I go anywhere.”

  “Not that there’s a theater worth going to,” said Danny.

  “Not in BV,” said Nicki. “But there’s a theater in Lexington. I just … don’t go out much. I don’t even watch movies on TV anymore. I lose interest, somehow. I fall asleep. No point in renting a movie just to sleep through it.”

  “You’ve been sick.”

  “Oh, I’m dying,” she said. “There are ups and downs. Right now I think today might be a good day. A very good day. But probably that’s just because of the company.”

  “This is very good cocoa,” said Danny.

  “Daddy buys me only the best. There’s not much he can do for me, but he can get me first-rate cocoa. He’s so gruff with other people, but he’s really very kind to me. I like to think that only I get to see who he really is.” She looked at him over the cocoa cup as she took a sip. “I know he was angry with you. That’s why I came to the door.”

  “Thanks for saving me,” said Danny. “I think your father has a low opinion of my team spirit.”

  “He cares so much about his teams,” said Nicki. “He wants everyone to do their best, but Parry McCluer High School isn’t noted for the ambition of its students.” Then she touched her mouth again. “I can’t believe I said that. I haven’t … I haven’t been sarcastic in years.”

  “Then you’re probably overdue,” said Danny. “I think everybody needs to say something sarcastic at least once a week. Of course, I’m years ahead.”

  “And I’m years behind,” said Nicki. “But it’s getting late. I don’t want you to be called in to the vice-principal’s office on account of me and my cocoa.”

  “I’m far more afraid of Coach Lieder than of any vice-principal. Besides, when I get in trouble I end up talking to Principal Massey.”

  “Only the best for you,” she said.

  “Or else it’s only the worst for him,” said Danny.

  She laughed. So did he; but he also got up and carried both their cups to the sink. Coach Lieder’s cup remained untouched on the table.

  “I’m sorry you only know my father in his grumpy moods.”

  “I’m glad to know that he has any other. I’m assuming you’ve seen nongrumpy moods yourself, and aren’t just repeating a rumor.”

  “That would be gossip,” said Nicki. A moment’s hesitation. “Will I see you again?”

  “I doubt it,” Danny answered truthfully. “I think your father is very unhappy that I accepted your invitation this time.”

  “But if I invited you again?”

  “Does your father own a gun?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t know how to use it. I think he bought it to make a political statement.”

  Or because he was afraid of some student coming to assassinate him some dark night, thought Danny. “Thanks for the cocoa. I’m very warm now.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  He made it to the door unescorted, but Coach Lieder was waiting outside by his car. Danny expected to be yelled at, but instead Lieder only said, “Get in. I’ll drive you to school.”

  Danny tried to assess what Lieder was planning—was he only speaking softly because he was afraid Nicki could hear him? But then he thought: If I don’t like what he says, I can always gate away.

  Then he rebuked himself. I’ve already made three gates today, and it hasn’t been a full day since I vowed never to make another here in BV.

  Except the one that would take him to Marion and Leslie in Yellow Springs, and the one that Veevee used to get back and forth between his house and Naples, Florida. He’d reconstructed those last night, when he got his gates back from the Gate Thief.

  Inside the car, Coach Lieder was strangely silent. But when he spoke, he sounded as menacing as ever. “What do you plan to do with my daughter?”

  Danny wanted to say, You mean besides healing her of whatever was killing her? Instead, he answered, “I don’t plan to do anything. She invited me in for cocoa. I drank cocoa. We talked. That was it.”

  “She likes you,” said Lieder.

  “I liked her,” said Danny. “But no, in case you’re worried, I don’t like her that way, she’s just nice and we had a nice conversation and that’s it. Nice. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Lieder was silent for a long time. Not till they were going up the last steep hill to the school did he speak again. “I’ve never seen her talk so freely with anyone.”

  “I guess she was having a good day,” said Danny.

  Silence again until the car came to a stop in Lieder’s parking place. Apparently even coaches who didn’t have a lot of winning seasons still got their own named parking space.

  “You haven’t asked me what’s wrong with her,” said Lieder as Danny opened the car door.

  “Nothing’s wrong with her,” said Danny, letting himself sound puzzled.

  “She’s obviously sick,” said Lieder, sounding annoyed.

  “It wasn’t obviou
s to me,” said Danny, lying deliberately, since by the time he got home tonight she would be markedly improved, and in a week she would probably look fantastic, compared to before, and Danny wanted Lieder to think it had already been happening before Danny even got there.

  “Then you’re an idiot,” said Lieder.

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure of that,” said Danny. “Thanks for the ride.” Then he was gone.

  It occurred to him as he walked into school that Lieder was thinking that Danny might be useful to brighten his daughter’s spirits during her last weeks of life. While it might be amusing to watch Lieder try to be nice to him—it was clearly against the man’s nature—it wouldn’t be fair to Nicki. Especially because Nicki was not going to die. At least not of her disease, whatever it had been. When Lieder realized this, when the doctors told him she was in complete remission, he’d very quickly want to be rid of Danny. So Danny would spare them both the trouble and never go back there again.

  The real problem today was going to be dealing with the kids in gym class, who had no doubt spent the whole evening last night telling everybody they knew about the experience of going up the magical rope climb and ending up viewing the whole Maury River Valley from a mile high. Whatever Lieder had seen yesterday, he hadn’t mentioned it today. Yesterday, he had seemed to blame Danny for the whole thing. “They’re riding it like a carnival,” he had said. “You did this,” he had said. But today he hadn’t mentioned it at all.

  And as Danny walked through the halls and went into his first class, he didn’t see any unusual excitement and didn’t hear any mention of the magical rope. It bothered him—how could high school kids not talk about such a weird experience? But he wasn’t going to bring it up himself.

  It wasn’t till he saw Hal in his next class that Danny was able to ask about it.