by Brent Meske
***
Michael's eyes were swollen shut. He had to have a million broken bones. He was dull agony all over, with sharp pains whenever he tried to shift to get comfortable. Someone was in the room with him, he could feel the pity and concern somehow. Maybe he was just smelling his mother's perfume.
“Michael?” she said.
He could only manage a groan. Still, it was a lot of effort for a single groan.
“Mr. Springfield is here,” she said. “You remember, your dad's out in North Africa.”
Another groan. He heard a chair squeal as it was dragged up next to the bed. He could smell Mr. Springfield, something like ozone and grass clippings. Well, at least his nose was still working.
“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” Mr. Springfield told him in the hospital room. They weren't going to get a day off this time. No, they were going to get the rest of the month off this time. After the damage to LADCEMS, there wasn't another option.
“Tell me about it,” Michael said.
“So what happened?”
“Well...”
He'd been at his locker, looking at Charlotte's note when none other than Davey Rightman came pelting down the hall at full speed. He'd grown since he disappeared over to the eighth grade building, and not in any good ways. He was taller, maybe six two, gangly and super thin. Now he'd been infested by some pretty nasty acne. The acne was real proof that there was a face between those enormous ears.
“What did he say?” Springfield asked.
“He was pretty surprised to see me,” Michael told him. He didn't mention the note to Mr. Springfield. He was feeling every bit the super spy lately, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a super spy end up in the hospital... ever.
“So what happened?” Mr. Springfield asked. Michael had drifted away into his own thoughts of being the town’s James Bond. Yeah right.
“Well,” he said, “The school started coming apart.”
From down the hall came a deep groaning sound, like the whole planet was upset with Davey.
“Oh...oh my god. Mikey Washington!” Davey stopped and put his hands on his knees and heaved a couple of breaths. He looked desperate. “You gotta help me.”
Yep. That was as likely to happen as Michael sprouting a second head.
But when Davey fell to his knees, the fear on his face was so complete, it was pure terror. Michael had seen Davey smug, deceitful, pompous and overconfident, but he'd never seen him terrified.
“What is it?” Michael asked, but he didn't have to wonder long. Davey shot a terrified glance over his shoulder and jumped full body into Michael's locker. He had to duck his head painfully to the side, but he fit without much fuss.
“Shut it,” he hissed. “Lock it.”
This was his lucky day. He shut the locker door and clicked the lock closed as well.
It was then the world turned upside down. Someone down the hall screamed. Michael looked, and found two people floating near the stairwell. One of them was furious, the other a terrified fifth grade girl.
“Where is he?” the furious girl said. Even from where Michael was standing, he could see the fissure appear in the wall of the school. One second it was the smooth surface that had been painted over a million times. The next, a black lightning bolt shot up from the floor to the ceiling.
“Answer me!” the girl shrieked. Michael started walking toward her. He could make out now; she was a bit chubby, wearing a thick maroon sweater and baggy pants. Her hair looked like it was constantly under water, dirty blonde floating up and down like a drifting octopus.
But the fifth grade girl just whimpered and cried.
“Worthless,” the Active girl said. “You know who I’m looking for. Tell me where he is.”
“Hey!” Michael said. “Put her down, okay? You want somebody, you don't need to hurt somebody else.”
The look he got was pure hate. Whatever Davey had done to this girl, it was bad. Bad enough that she was ready and willing to hurt somebody else to get Davey. He was really glad Charlotte wasn't here. Once the fifth grader was safe, he was going to run straight away from this situation.
“I'm looking for a pile of garbage about this tall,” the Active girl said, with her hand up to about six feet. “I didn't know they piled up crap that high. Not until today.” She threw her head back and laughed, a high and slightly insane sound.
“Davey Rightman?” he asked.
His vision grayed, and when he could focus again he was flat against the wall, four feet off the ground. She'd slammed him up there.
“Where is he?” she hissed. She was close enough to smell. The heavy scent of cheap perfume stung his nose, which was maybe the only part of him that didn't hurt.
He could have ratted Davey out. Heavens knew he had enough reasons to. All of fifth grade, for a start. Yet he couldn't get the pleading, terrified and pimple-studded face out of his mind. He couldn't just let Davey get hurt. If he had a grudge against Davey, it wasn't up to this girl to put things straight, it was Michael's responsibility.
“He blew past here to the end of the hall,” Michael groaned.
“I think you're lying,” she said.
“How do you figure?” he asked. “By the way I sound like somebody's shoved me up against a wall?”
His head cracked against the brick, and stars swam into his vision. He knew right away he was bleeding.
“You don't understand,” she said.
“I'm not going to understand anything if I'm unconscious,” he said.
“He thought he could just take what he wanted...that it didn't mean anything.” She started wandering up the hall with her back to him. Doors began flying open, and a few tore off their hinges. They slammed into the ceiling, cracking like gunshots in the spooky after school quiet.
“He really believed I didn't care who I gave it away to.”
She was crazy, Michael realized. If she didn't find Davey and hurt him, she was going to find somebody else. That meant he had to do something, he realized wearily. This was Trent all over again.
There wasn't much to grab onto, just the lockers and their thin metal slits. Michael heaved himself over onto his side and rummaged in his pocket for his key ring. It would have to do. He wedged the key into one of the air vents in the lockers, and started pulling himself along the wall toward the girl. She was talking loudly to no one in particular.
“Boys don't care. They just say they love you. They're all liars, every single one. They'll just keep talking pretty while they're sharpening the knife, ready to stab you in the back. You'll be doing the same thing next year, probably.”
Michael pulled and pulled until he got to a classroom entrance. He wasn't going anywhere else.
“You're probably right,” he said.
“You lied to me, too, didn't you?” she whirled. The school groaned at them, and fresh cracks appeared all over the place. It was like her presence was pushing everything apart.
“Yeah,” he said.
“But...I know you,” she said. “You're that kid Trent messed with, aren't you?”
He nodded, two feet from the floor. It was like gravity had turned sideways for him. He gathered up his legs under him and got ready.
“You were Trent's girlfriend at the time,” he said.
She made a sound of disgust, but he could see her face soften up. She still liked Trent, the feelings weren't gone at all. Some girls were just a sounding board for their group of boys, getting passed around and toyed with. It was horrible, but it happened. Some people just needed to be with someone at all times, for good or bad.
“You're right,” he said, “I lied.”
There was no better word for what she did next: she snarled.
“I know where Davey is.”
“Now. Tell me now.”
“Let the girl go, and I'll tell you.”
She did, and the girl ran off screaming. That might get someone here to help soon. Or the girl could just run straight hom
e and hide under her bed for hours without telling anybody. She whirled on Michael. “Where?”
“He's in that locker. That one right there.”
When she turned her back on him, he struck. It was like launching himself into a pool of butterscotch pudding. It seemed like he squished through the air, instead of jumping. He stretched, and stretched, and finally caught hold of her by the hair.
“Let go!” she shrieked. All the silver com locks sprang up toward her and snapped off. One hit him in the shoulder, sending red agony through him. Then her power smacked into him, but he held on. The girl staggered under the force of her own power. Michael got his other hand up through the jellied air, and wrapped it around her neck. Another bolt of force tore apart the ceiling, and punched a hole in the roof. Bits of plaster or ceiling tile or other stuff rained down on him, but he didn't care. He adjusted his hold and started cutting off her air. He didn't know how long he could keep the pressure on, with his body screaming at him to stop it, stop it right now! But if he didn't, maybe she would do something really stupid, like hammer his head into a wall until it was raspberry jam.
When she hit next, she slammed both of them backwards through the air. Michael jerked hard to one side, before he was crushed against the wall of the school, and the girl took the full force of it. The last thing he knew before going unconscious was the shock and pain, and the blood coming out of her just before normal gravity took over, and blackness took the both of them.
Chapter 7 – Getaway