Tiny
She stood at the pedestrian entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge. It was getting dark, long after Lu and Will and Nathaniel and Tobias were supposed to meet her, but she was standing there alone.
The weather had been heavy and humid all day, and tonight the air was soupy. Heat lightning flashed above the Queens skyline. It was going to storm. Tiny wondered if she should just pack it in and go home. No one was coming. She felt stupid and embarrassed. She felt like a little kid who still thought she belonged to Science Club.
The last-day-of-summer tradition was the one thing she asked of her friends. It meant something to her. She thought it meant something to all of them. Tomorrow was the first day of high school, and everything was probably about to change. But they had each other. If Tiny walked into school the next morning with Lu and Will and Nathaniel, she knew she wouldn’t be afraid.
The humidity pressed down on her as the sun slipped behind the buildings and the orange sky burned out into a deep blue. She could only see one star, twinkling faintly far away.
Where was everyone? She tried to call, but no one picked up. No one answered any of her texts. For the first time, she wondered if the tradition only meant something to her. Maybe the others didn’t care.
Tiny felt herself slipping away, into the atmosphere like the last fading light of the sun.
Then there was Tobias, pulling her back.
He was biking up the street toward her. When he saw her, he waved. There was the black water churning beneath them, and the night sky above them, full of stars. There was the possibility. The hope.
The what if.
“Hey, Tine-O,” he said, swinging a leg off his bike and chaining it to a nearby gate.
“Hey, Einstein,” she said. Then, looking around: “Where’s Nathaniel?”
“Ugh,” he said. “Don’t call me that. And he’s not coming. It’s just you and me and the crumbling atmosphere tonight.”
Tiny’s heart floated out of her body and soared above her like a shooting star, like an explosion of fireworks. She’d always secretly hoped for something like this, one last night, just the two of them.
“Fine,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Don’t call me Tiny, then.”
“But that’s your name!”
“It’s just a nickname,” said Tiny. “One you made up.”
They walked along the bridge, watching the water rush below them.
“Actually,” Tobias said. “It’s just you and me and my massive lightning apparatus.”
Tiny laughed. “Your what? That sounds dirty.”
“Don’t make fun. It’s this device I made to record and measure the charges in a lightning strike. It’s supposed to attract lightning and parse the charge.”
“Erm. Why do you have to do this tonight?”
“When I get to MIT, I’m supposed to submit a proposal for an individualized course of study. I want to study the effects of climate change on lightning in big cities. I just need to collect all the data I can as long as I’m in New York. Then I guess I’ll move on to Boston, but New York is bigger.” He smiled. “And better.” He bent down. “Here—hold this part, and I’m going to plug this in here, and turn this on.”
“Is this safe?” Tiny asked. “Are we storm chasers? I know what happens to storm chasers. I’ve seen Twister.”
“Heh,” Tobias said. “I guess we’re lightning chasers.” He considered it. “Yeah, it’s safe. Basically safe. We’ll be fine. Just don’t touch it after I turn it on.”
Tobias stood back and produced a piece of chalk from his backpack. He used it to draw a box around the apparatus. He drew a bunch of arrows pointing to it and scrawled: DO NOT TOUCH—EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS.
“Very official,” Tiny said.
“Hey, this is a professional operation by a future MIT Earth, Atmosphere and Planetary Scientist. When I work for NASA, I’m totally going to get them to adopt my methods.” He held out the chalk. “Want to get in on this?”
Tiny drew a rainbow coming out of a skull and crossbones. She drew some cartoony lightning bolts around it for good measure.
“Nice. Really drives the point home.” Tobias put the chalk away and put his backpack back on. They sat down on the walkway and stared out at the water.
It was eight p.m. on a late summer night, and people occasionally walked past them on the bridge. Tiny sat down next to him, dangling her feet over the edge. She tried to push away the feeling that she might fall into the river below.
“Did something happen?” she asked. “Is Nathaniel okay?”
“We had a fight.” Tobias lay on his back and looked up at the stars. “Nathaniel . . . he just doesn’t get it, sometimes.”
“Get what?”
“I don’t know. That there’s more to life than what he thinks. How hard this all is. All the pressure. The constant work.”
“But it’s all good stuff, right? This is work you like. And you’re really good at it!”
“Doesn’t stop me from being scared out of my mind,” Tobias said. “I might have had the highest GPA at Daybrook, but at MIT . . .” He stared out at the black water. “I’m not going to be so special anymore.” He shuddered. “I’m going to get lost in the crowd there.”
Tiny looked up. There were clouds blocking the way in places, but she could see the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper and Orion’s Belt. Those were the only constellations she actually knew by heart. “Yeah,” she said. “He likes to frame the world in facts.”
“Sometimes, the more facts I learn about the universe, the smaller and more insignificant I feel.”
“Seriously,” said Tiny. “I’m with you on that.”
“As far as I’m concerned, deep space gets all the credit for being mysterious. But I think there are enough mysteries down here on Earth to last a lifetime.”
Tiny shivered and rubbed her arms to hide the goose bumps.
Tobias turned his head to look at her. “Where’s your other half, Lu? I never see you two without each other.”
Tiny shrugged. “I don’t know. She was supposed to call. Speaking of feeling insignificant . . . I think I got ditched.”
“The nerve!” said Tobias. “We’ll show her! Come on!” He stood up. “Come on.” He held out his hand. “Let’s walk.”
“What about the apparatus?”
“It’ll be fine! Do you not see those warnings? No one in their right mind is going near that thing.”
Tiny stood up. “Okay.” She smiled. “Let’s walk.”
They walked the rest of the way across the bridge, and when they got to Brooklyn, they turned around and walked back. It was starting to get really late, but Tiny’s parents hadn’t called her yet. Lu hadn’t called. Neither had Will or Nathaniel. The city lights glittered before them.
“What if I’m not good enough?” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“What if they expect me to know all these things already, and I don’t?”
“Tobias,” Tiny said. “You’re the smartest person I know.”
“I’m just . . .”
“What?”
“No. Never mind. It’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I don’t know. I’m just scared of the future, I guess. I worked so hard. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You know,” Tiny said. “I’m scared of the future too. High school is starting tomorrow. Everything’s going to change.” She paused. “Everything is already changing. I hate change. I wish everything could stay the same forever.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “Lots of good things can come from change. The future is yours to write it the way you want. Besides, nothing can stay the same forever. That’s scientifically impossible.” He threw his arms out wide and grinned. “Make a wish on a goddamn star for something—one thing—to change. And you have to mean it. Go on. I dare you.” He pointed. “There’s one, peeking out from those clouds.”
“I feel stupid.”
“No, no, do it. Here—I’ll make one too.”
They both looked up and closed their eyes at the same time. Tiny hitched her breath and wished. She felt like somebody had seen her, the real her, for the first time. Maybe tonight, if she shone brightly enough in the dark, he wouldn’t forget her when he left the next day. He would remember.
She wanted so badly to be seen. To be remembered. She was ready to grow up. She didn’t want to be just Tiny anymore. She didn’t feel Tiny. She felt huge. She felt massive. There was so much energy inside her, and it wanted out.
Tiny felt like she was about to burst out of her skin. She tilted her face up, waiting, just waiting, for her future to begin.
When she opened her eyes, Tobias had a huge grin on his face.
“Did you make one?”
“Yeah,” Tiny said. “I did.”
“Cool, me too. Let’s go check on the apparatus.”
They walked back to the starting point. It was almost midnight, and Tiny still hadn’t heard from Lu or Will or Nathaniel. Did her parents trust her so much to be good that they didn’t even feel like they had to check up on her? The only person who seemed to care about her at all right then was Tobias. And he was leaving for college in the morning. When he left, she would have no one.
As they got closer, Tiny could tell something was wrong.
“The wind knocked it over!” she yelled, running to it. “All your work!” Tiny bent down automatically and fixed the antennae. “Maybe it’s still recording.” The metal prongs began to vibrate in her hands. Something beeped. A red light started flashing.
“Don’t touch it!” Tobias yelled, grabbing her and pulling her away.
“What? Did I break it?”
But Tobias didn’t answer, because suddenly the sky flashed white and bright, knocking them backward.
“What was that?” Tiny asked. “What happened?”
“Oh my god.” Tobias sat up. “That was lightning. It worked.” His face clouded over. “I shouldn’t have done this. You could have been hit. I didn’t think this through at all.” He stood up, brushing his jeans off. “This was dangerous. What was I thinking?”
“It’s okay, I—”
“It’s not okay!” he shouted. “That could have killed you, Tiny!” He breathed sharply. “I’m packing this thing up. And then we’re going home.”
She couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t his fault; it was hers. That there was so much energy charged inside her, she attracted that lightning all on her own.
Tobias was shoving the apparatus into his backpack and zipping it up.
Tiny thought about near misses and windows opening and closing and how life could change so quickly in the span of just a few seconds. The difference between walking along, minding your own business, and suddenly being struck by lightning.
He swung his backpack over his shoulder and unlocked his bike. He had a far-off look in his eyes. Like there was something really distracting going on in his brain and he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d worked it out.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tiny asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just thinking.” He paused, the bike in between them. “Thanks, Tiny. For believing in me. It’s nice to know you’re out there.”
And he leaned across the bike and kissed her.
Tiny felt a small electric shock pass between them.
The hair on her arms stood on end. It felt like—
It felt like—
“Tobias,” Tiny said, her lips still pressed against his. “I think you are the only person who’s ever seen me the way I want to be seen.”
And he said, “For what it’s worth, you see me too.”
When they pulled apart, it started to rain.
Tobias bent down and wrote something on her sneaker in yellow chalk.
“There,” he said. “Words to live by. Get home quick, before this washes off and you forget tonight forever.”
“I don’t need help remembering.” Tiny’s heart was pounding. “Tonight was—” Electric, she thought.
“Yeah,” Tobias said. “I felt it too.” He started to get on his bike, then turned and smiled.
There was so much Tiny wanted to say. So much was welling up in her, fighting for space in her head, crowding her mouth with words.
“Later, Tine-O,” he said, kicking off. “Get home safe.”
The minute he had turned the corner and was out of sight, she bent down to see what he’d written on her sneaker.
Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. —Carl Sagan
From down on one knee, she heard tires screeching, a sickening splash, the scrape of metal against metal. The unmistakable spinning of bike wheels in the hot end of summer night.
She looked up.
NOW
6:00 A.M.
(2 HOURS LEFT)
FATE AND OTHER MAGNETIC FORCES
Tiny
It had been three years.
As she’d stood at the foot of the bridge that night, everything had felt beautiful and alive. It was just the two of them and the stars, and the beating of her heart, and her lips against his.
It was just that one moment, but it changed everything. She tried to hold on to it, but it slipped through her fingers no matter how tightly she grasped.
Before she knew what was happening, there were sirens and flashing lights, and a gurney carrying a body into an ambulance. There was so much blood in the street. (She later read a statistic that bike accidents cause the most blood.) She was in the backseat of a cab to the hospital. The driver’s name was Gus. She stared and stared at his taxi driver’s license. And then she was in the hospital waiting room. And there was Nathaniel, looking pale and awful, and his parents, in shock. And Lu bursting through the doors. And ten minutes later, Will.
And there was this moment, when the four of them just stood there, staring at one another. Like so much had changed in just one night, they had no idea how to be anymore.
At some point, she realized that the rain had washed the yellow chalk from her shoes.
Tiny’s parents made her go to the first day of school, to take her mind off things. She saw Lu there too, and Will. Nathaniel came back a week later. He spent the first semester of school playing catch-up. In some ways, he would always be playing catch up.
And Tiny did the only thing she could do: she got quiet. She got small. She wrote everything down. When her notebook was full of stories and poems, she started a new one. Instead of living out loud, she lived on the page. And then at the end of the day she closed up her notebook and herself with it.
She wrote about everything. How it tore them apart. How Nathaniel retreated from the world, reeling from the loss of his hero. How Lu and Will pushed each other away like oppositely charged magnets, and how they wouldn’t speak again until tonight. How Lu never knew how to act around her anymore, didn’t know how to ask the right questions, so she pretended everything was fine. How Will joined the soccer team and soon had turned into someone else entirely. How their group of four fell apart.
Tiny was right that no one cared about her after Tobias. There had been someone out there who had seen her, but no one seemed to see her anymore. Or maybe it was that she didn’t want to show herself to anyone. It was like Gus the cab driver said. She’d let the bad fear guide her. And it was making her disappear.
For three years she’d kept that kiss bottled up inside her, telling no one. It became part of her, like an organ or something else she needed to live but took for granted. A spleen, maybe. Tobias was like her spleen. She had no idea what her spleen did, but somehow it was vital to her daily existence. She had needed it. She didn’t know why anymore, but she did.
But maybe tonight it was finally time to let go.
* * *
“The last time I saw him, we had a fight,” Nathaniel said. He was blinking really fast, like he might have been trying not to cry. “I wished something bad would happen to him.” His voice cracked. “I really mis
s him.”
“Me too,” said Tiny.
“Me too,” said Lu.
“And me,” said Will.
“Why weren’t we there for each other more?” Tiny said. “Why couldn’t we talk about it?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “We each had so much going on, we couldn’t see that everyone else was hurting too.”
They all looked at one another.
“What if . . . ,” Tiny said. “Nathaniel, isn’t your research inspired by Tobias’s?”
Nathaniel’s face turned red.
“I guess. Yeah.” He paused. “I was trying to take it one step further.”
“So we’ll look at your paper for the answers.”
“Mine? No way. It’s nowhere near good enough.”
“Haven’t you been working on it all year?” said Will.
“Yeah, but it’s not . . . I don’t feel . . .”
“I’m sure it’s amazing,” said Tiny.
“Besides, we don’t have a whole lot of options at this point,” Lu added. Tiny elbowed her. “You’re lucky I couldn’t feel that,” Lu said through gritted teeth.
“And we have to reverse the lightning,” said Tiny. “I feel it now more than ever. I don’t want to be invisible anymore.”
“And I want to feel again,” said Lu.
“And I just want to be me,” Will said.
Nathaniel scratched the back of his neck. “And I don’t want to feel like I have to try to be super anymore.”
They all looked at one another, then. All four of them. And it felt like it did in the hospital waiting room that night three years ago. Like something was about to happen, and they were waiting to find out what.
“We all believe in you,” Tiny said. “If it helps. I mean, we were able to get this far, thanks to you. We can’t give up now.”
“But I didn’t finish it!”
Will blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t finish it. I couldn’t. I bit off way more than I could chew. I was trying to use Tobias’s research as a jumping-off point and take it one step further, but guess in the end I wasn’t smart enough. There’s a hypothesis, and lots of research. But there’s no direction. No focus. I couldn’t figure out a conclusive answer. Not like Tobias had.”
The Odds of Lightning Page 21