Danny's Mind: A Tale of Teenage Mysticism and Heavenly Power
Page 15
Chapter 14
Worries are banished
Future is freed.
The Past, a corny old movie. (Why watch it twice?)
No time obstructions left,
The H-Bomb unleashes my pure energy.
And I act with the speed of clarity.
- From His Recorded Words
Though I wasn’t understanding most of it myself, I was still in awe at the words Danny was speaking, as were so many of the other kids. It was like we were listening to some great teacher like the wizard from the Lord of the Rings movie or that guy Moses from the other movie. Danny had become a spellbinder, that’s for sure. And that’s why what happened next caught me off guard.
Danny was explaining that flashes of Heavenly Mind can occur when we’re completely absorbed in something we’re good at—so absorbed that we disappear into the activity. Artistic people, he said, could know this while getting lost in a drawing. Dancers could get the flash in a perfect pirouette. Or it could be the sudden insight that comes out of nowhere and gives you the answer to that impossible math problem you’d given up on. I think he gave me a wink as he said some “freaks of nature” could even find heavenly clarity in a good brawl. He said, “So bring dancing-mind, or drawing-mind, or fighting-mind to the other things you do—even the most boring chores like dishes or raking leaves. See if the humdrum doesn’t become a little magical. He turned to where some of the sports kids were sitting. “As for you athletic superstars, don’t you experience fantastic moments when—”
He stopped and shouted with a wave of his hand, “Tim. Perfect timing. You can help me demonstrate.”
I spun to see Tim coming down the hill. He looked haggard, red-eyed again, and seemed to be stumbling. Wherever he’d been the last week, he hadn’t dried out. Danny was already off the hockey boards and walking up the hill towards Tim. He put out a hand for me to stay back, but I followed right behind. Michelle and Sally also rose, and several others. “Tim,” Danny said with sort of an admiring tone, “when you’re throwing one of your bullets and you know it’s going right to the mark, where are you in that second. Who are you?”
Tim stood frozen. “What?”
Danny said, “In the instant when you’re throwing a perfect pass, what happens in your head? Who are you?”
Tim was totally confused. “What are you talking about?”
Danny stood two feet in front of him, imitating the passing motion, and repeated: “Who are you when—”
Michelle shouted, “He’s Heavenly Mind!”
“Exactly!” Danny cheered. “Tim, get it? When—”
“Crap!” Tim snarled and jerked toward Danny with swinging fists.
And I swear, never even losing his smile, like it was part of a game, Danny side-stepped, grabbed Tim’s arm as it passed, and rolled into his middle, bringing him to the ground. Swift and final. It was one of the maneuvers we’d been working on in the little park, but which he’d always screwed up. Now, he’d nailed it like an expert—and he’d given Tim Hanson an embarrassing ass-dumping.
Tim was on his haunches, bewildered. A dozen kids surrounded him. “Wow,” someone whispered, “did you see that?” Danny’s arm reached out from among the onlookers to help Tim up. I darted forward to get between them, but a stiff tug pulled me from the back of my pants and someone said “Hold it, Joe.” I turned Frank Mitchell’s hand away, and shoved him off his feet—just as Tim hurled himself upwards at Danny again. Shouts erupted and everything collapsed in a mass of yelling, pushing kids. Danny was yanked immediately out of sight. I noticed it was Steve, who twisted his own back against Tim’s attack. But it wasn’t necessary. Michelle and Sally and every other kid swarmed over Tim and brought him down in a tangle. As I flung smaller bodies left and right to get through, two voices in the middle of it were shrieking above the rest. Michelle shouting—“Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.” And Tim—spiking a fear into my mind I’d never be rid of—“You’re dead, Danny! Dead. You’re dead!” over and over, a voice of insanity. I got a single glimpse of Tim’s face struggling in the swarm—murderous.
A deeper voice rang out behind me, “Stop this immediately!” It was Principal Steele, and then a large hand grasped my shoulder. I turned to see Coach Stevens. “Out of here, Joe,” he hollered at me face to face. “This is over.”
The two men broke it up fast. Coach Stevens and Principal Steele were good sized adults, the coach in particular, and in seconds everyone was streaming back to school. “It’s after two!” Principle Steele shouted. “Get to your classes now!”
Danny found me and pried my attention from looking for Frank who I was determined to bash for grabbing my pants. “That was exciting,” he said, way too cheerily for me, as we followed the other students back to the school. A number of them came up to Danny and told him what he’d done to Tim was amazing. They patted him on the back. They thanked him for the talk, and asked him to “please” do more. One unusual girl, on the heavy side, darted in, kissed him quick on the cheek and skittered away giggling to herself, “I just kissed Jesus.” Danny just laughed, but I was thinking it was a little weird. Another little guy, even smaller than Danny, approached him, slowly. It was hard to tell what he was going to do, which made me slightly nervous. But then he stopped and said with reverence, “Who are you?”
I looked back to the hill. It had cleared except for two discussions taking place. Michelle and Sally were confronting Principal Steele. Michelle’s hands were whipping around desperately trying to explain what had happened, while the principal’s hands stayed fixed to his hips. A few paces away, Coach Steven’s finger was shaking furiously in Tim’s face. Coach was shouting, and from what I could make of his expression—it didn’t look good for Tim.
Danny pulled me through the door. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Michelle and Sally will be able to handle Principal Steele.”
“It’s Tim I’m worried about, Danny. That was crazy. I don’t think there’s any guessing what he’ll do next.”
“Joe, don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Did you see what I did to him? I’m not worried.”
“Danny, get serious. He’s half-crocked and you caught him by surprise. That’s not gonna happen again. I’m worried what he’ll do if he ever catches you without any of your protectors around.” I thought about the word protectors as I said it. What had once been me, was now…an army.
“Hey, calm down. Coach and Principal Steele are talking to Tim now. They’ll straighten it out. I think things are going well. What’d you think of my”—he grinned—“sermon?”
The rest of the afternoon, the buzz about Danny spread through the corridors and classrooms. Some of it took the form of excited little conversations about the effects of the talk—“I suddenly felt everything vibrating around me.” Or “I felt my awareness expanding into the sky.” Or “I feel like I’m going to burst—I hope it lasts!” Then there was the other theme—“He fought off four people all at the same time.” “He moved with the speed of an angel.”And, “He has powers.” By the end of the day, even Mr. Tan had heard some of the buzz, and he questioned Danny about it in their regular discussion. Once they’d separated out fantasy from what really happened, leaving just the fact of Danny’s abnormal speed disabling Tim, Mr. Tan became interested in the physical changes Danny had been experiencing since his NDE.
But while they talked, I pondered the very real threat that Tim had become—at least, in my mind. I knew things would never settle down with him now. Crazy and humiliated. He’d hated Danny to begin with. He blamed him for being caught cheating. He blamed him for Michelle dumping him. And now, getting totaled in front of so many kids, he’d be out for terminal revenge. And with his drinking and who knew what else, I put nothing past him. There was no way Danny could escape Tim forever. Not even with half the student body protecting him. Not even with his new fighting ability. (I looked up and Danny and Mr.
Tan were saying something about ‘transcending the startle reflex’ and ‘unmediated, real time reactions’.) But the steely viciousness in Tim’s voice stuck in my brain—“You’re dead, Danny.”
Danny eventually said to Mr. Tan, “Yeah, I agree, that poor guy really needs some professional help.” They were talking about Tim. Help? I couldn’t believe it, but I didn’t say anything. Danny and Mr. Tan couldn’t pull their heads out of the clouds long enough to recognize what they were really dealing with. A psycho.