Читать книгу Heroes of Earth - Martin Berman-Gorvine - Страница 14

CHAPTER 9

Arnold was so excited about getting back to school so he could meet with Gloria and formally join the Resistance that he completely forgot not to cut across the parking lot of the Value-Mart in case Matt, Jared, and a bigger boy whose name Arnold couldn’t remember were hanging out there. Which they were.

Matt got Arnold in a headlock. Then he snorted loudly. “Something smells like rotten eggs here… Well, if it isn’t Gross-fart! Where do you think you’re going, Gross-fart?”

“I was just on my way to school,” Arnold said, wriggling in Matt’s iron grasp. Jared and the other boy crowded in. Even if he could break free of Matt, there would be no escape.

“I was just on my way to school,” Matt mimicked. “Thought they expelled you, Gross-fart, for flipping off Bubba.”

“I didn’t flip—ow, stop, that really hurts!” Arnold hated the whining, pleading tone of his own voice, but his neck was killing him.

“Thanks to you, you little kike, we all get our bags searched every morning now!” Matt snarled in his ear. “It was gonna be just for show for a day or two after those little kids got blown up, but they made it permanent!”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen! I just didn’t want Bubba going through my stuff!”

“Why, what you got in there? Something you haven’t been sharing with the rest of us?” Arnold thought he could hear his vertebrae popping as Jared grabbed his book-bag off the tarmac and began to unzip it. But he didn’t care about the pain. He was sunk now for sure, even though he’d carefully hidden the adventures of Sir Arnold and Princess Hailee in a plain manila envelope. That would have been enough to keep Bubba from seeing it, but it was sure to draw the bullies’ attention.

Wait just a second. “You better not do that,” Arnold said, his voice ringing unfamiliar in his own ears, as if he was some tri-vee tough guy—Captain Adams of the Spacefarers, maybe.

“What did you say, Aaaaarnold?” Jared sneered, tapping his face lightly with an open palm. Getting ready for the real beat-down.

“I said, you better not do that, or the Resistance will take care of you.”

Jared recoiled as if Arnold had struck him, and Matt suddenly let go of Arnold’s neck, took a step back and stared at Arnold through narrowed eyes.

But then Jared shook his head and shoved his face up close to Arnold’s. His breath stank of cigarettes. “What’s that you said, you little yid? I must’ve heard you wrong. Everybody knows you people and the Slugs are best friends.”

“Sure, that’s what we want you to think,” Arnold said, amazed at the words falling out of his own mouth. “But anybody who really knows anything knows that we’re tops in the Resistance.”

Matt grabbed Arnold’s arm and shook it. “That ain’t so! The Patriotic Front says to get rid of the Jews and all the other carburetors!”

That’s collaborators, you moron. Aloud, Arnold said, “Who said I’m with the Front?”

Matt’s eyes narrowed still further. “You’re with the Human Defense League? You?”

Arnold raised his chin and scowled at the bully. “Not them either, dummy! The name of the group I’m in is a secret! I do what I have to, to protect confidential information,” he said, trying to deepen his voice so it wouldn’t crack. “You’ll do the same, if you’re not traitors to the Earth!” And he grabbed his book-bag and marched off to school, his head held high and his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

The encounter with the bullies had delayed him so he just barely made it to school on time. As before, Mr. Ramsey and Bubba were the guards on duty, and again the tall, bobble-headed Bubba was the one who searched Arnold and his bag.

“We ain’t gonna have no trouble today, are we, chief?” Bubba said.

“Of course not, sir. I understand now that the bag search is for my own safety,” Arnold said, so straight-faced that Bubba narrowed his watery brown eyes and stared at him for a long moment. Then he shrugged and ran his rubber glove-clad hands over Arnold, a little more closely than he had two weeks ago. But it didn’t take him any longer now than it had then, and while Arnold dressed Bubba unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it quickly before giving him a thumbs-up.

If I’d have known there was no way he would ever have found the adventures of Sir Arnold, I would never have made a fuss and I wouldn’t have been suspended for two weeks, Arnold thought as he shouldered his backpack and slouched off to his locker. As he turned the corner into the hallway where the bank of lockers stood, he saw the double doors to the staircase at the far end closing and heard running footsteps. His stomach lurched as he thought about what they might have done to his stuff this time. They had broken in three times since the beginning of the year, and the last time all the notes for his science project had been ripped to shreds, and the door had been defaced with a blue-eyed swastika.

But when he came to good old number 407 all he saw on its gray metal front was a faint black smudge. He touched it and found it was still damp and smelled like Sis’s nail polish remover. The few textbooks he’d left inside were undamaged. Strange. But he had no more time to think about it for the rest of the morning, he was too busy catching up on all the work he’d missed.

Lunchtime was weird, though. He shuffled with his tray to the rejects’ table as usual, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, both to avoid provoking anyone and so that he could see any feet casually stretched out to trip him. None were, this time, and once he made it to his usual spot he knew he was safe.

It wasn’t that he was actually friends with any of the other rejects—not Jason Trumbull, who had curly red hair, a massive overbite, and thick glasses, and was rumored to be retarded although he was in all normal track classes; not fat Greg Chandler, who picked his nose unselfconsciously as he ate; and not even skinny, intense James Park, who was never called Jim and who was destined, everyone knew, for a High Fellowship on the aliens’ Homeworld, Gliese 581d itself, which meant in three or four years he would be boarding one of their faster-than-light Bubble Drive starships and might never return to Earth.

Usually Arnold would grunt a greeting at James, who would grunt back, not lifting his gaze from his High Astrophysics textbook. This time, though, when Arnold mumbled hello to the future space traveler, James turned his broad, round brown face up, looked at him wide-eyed through his round glasses and edged away.

What the hell? We Jews and Koreans, we have to stick together, don’t we? He almost blurted that aloud, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he twisted his neck and turned around, slowly as in a nightmare, to look up. It was Matt’s sidekick from this morning whose name he couldn’t remember. I knew it was too good to be true.

Up close, the unknown bully didn’t look like anybody’s sidekick—he was simply too big for that, in every dimension: arms, legs, muscular torso, bulging neck, hard-edged face and squinting eyes. The alligator-sized mouth moved and made noises, but they were impossible noises and Arnold’s brain refused to take them in. Anyway they were irrelevant since the hand on his shoulder, which was as big and solid as a steak, would momentarily form itself into a fist and pulverize his face.

But that did not happen, and after Arnold counted three and heard nothing but his heart playing his eardrums, he swallowed hard and said softly, “What?”

“I said I’m sorry for all that stuff we did to you,” the giant said.

Gus, that was his name. Gus Benedict. Arnold stared at him, speechless. Since his mind was blank, the same devil that had got hold of his tongue in the Value-Mart parking lot this morning took over again and said smoothly, “Oh, that’s all right, Gus. Now that you know, though, maybe we’ll invite you to join us sometime. After we’ve checked you out, you understand.”

Gus’s eyes widened. The irises were light brown. “That’d be great,” he said in a small voice. “But I don’t know if my dad would let me.”

Arnold’s face shaped itself into an unfamiliar sneer. “You need your daddy’s permission? That information will go into the file we’ve got on you. And Matt and Jared too, of course.”

Gus’s head bobbed up and down, and he turned and rushed off to tell Matt and Jared this incredible piece of news. When Arnold turned back to the table, he found that James had moved as far away as it was possible to move without falling off the bench bolted to the cafeteria table, and Greg was scrunched up so close to him their knees were touching, leaving only Jason to munch away obliviously to Arnold’s left.

What have I done? Arnold wondered, his mind dazed. How long can I keep up this bluff, before they figure out I’m lying and pound me?

* * * *

The afternoon dragged on and on. As usual, gym was the worst. Arnold had hoped he’d left dodge ball behind forever when he started high school in Chincoteague, but to his utter horror the gym teacher Mr. Lynch was crazy about the game.

“Go out there and play like a man, little girl,” the big, hairy, red-faced man had sneered at him when he tried to get out of it. Everyone else seemed to be having fun, but Arnold dreaded the stinging smash of the red rubber playground ball against his bare arms and legs that stuck out so vulnerably from the required gym uniform of blue and gold Chincoteague High T-shirt and shorts, and all through the last half of ninth grade and into the first half of tenth he had seen all his old fears confirmed.

The only way to avoid the pain was to deliberately toss the ball to someone, anyone, on the opposing side, so that he would be out that way instead and could go sit on the sidelines. But whenever he did this the jeers from both sides and from Mr. Lynch himself were deafening. So usually he tried to compromise, to tough out the pain for a while as Matt and company, who always seemed to be on the other team, purposely aimed at him, but no matter how long he let it go before finally tossing the ball in surrender, the taunting was never any less harsh.

“Hey Gross-fart, you sissy, my little sister throws harder than you!”

“Whatsa matter, Gross-fart, saved all your energy to come out your butt?”

“Kikes can’t play even baby sports worth a damn!”

But it wasn’t like that this time. As usual, Matt, Jared, and Gus were on the other side. But they never shot the ball his way. Instead they slammed the ball into every other kid on Arnold’s side, except Hailee and Darla. The ball bounced Arnold’s way and he caught it.

Okay, time to get this over with. He lobbed it gently at Matt, the taunts already ringing in his mind. But instead of reaching out to grab the ball out of the air, Matt turned and let it catch him on the arm. He deliberately got himself out! Why? There was no time to think, however, because Gus had grabbed the ball and lobbed it lazily over to Arnold, who caught it without thinking. Now only Jared was left on the other side! It had to be a trap. Even if I win the game for my side, they’ll pound me afterwards.

Arnold started a slow overhand toss, but a volcano suddenly exploded inside him. After all, he was fighting for Princess Hailee and her lady-in-waiting, Mistress Darla! So he whacked the ball as hard as he could with his right hand, so hard that his palm stung as if he’d been hit in the usual way. Instead of ducking, Jared raised his right arm to protect his face. He was out! The game was over, and Arnold had won it!

“Hey, way to go, Arnold!” Darla said, touching him shyly on the shoulder. On the sidelines, Kayleigh began to clap and was joined by a few of the other kids from their side who had been knocked out of the game. Even Hailee smiled.

Arnold shook his head, expecting to wake up any second. But the dream continued down in the locker room, where he changed back into his plaid shirt and brown corduroy pants without suffering so much as a wedgie.

Dazed, he shuffled out of the locker room and over to his school locker, expecting at the very least to find a threatening note inside it. “We know you were lying about what you said. Watch your butt, Jewboy!” But no. The final bell of the day rang and the halls were suddenly full of laughing, shouting kids. Arnold pushed his way through them. No one pushed him back.

The library was the same as before, with Miss Fredericks and Mr. Lynch in their usual places at the n-readers. Her head was resting on his shoulder, which seemed somehow… wrong, to Arnold.

“Hello,” said Gloria.

“Hello, Gloria,” Arnold said, looking her right in the eye as he shook her hand.

“Well, this is quite a change!” Gloria laughed. “You were afraid of your own shadow before.”

“Yes. But not now.” He shut his right eye slowly and deliberately. “Not now that I know who you are.”

Gloria’s green eyes widened. She glanced at the comatose teachers, then out at the rapidly emptying hallway, and moved to ease the door shut.

“It’s not such a secret, dear,” she said in a half-whisper. “I mean, you’re not the only one I’ve helped over the dimensional divide. Your dad and Alison came with you to Gingo Teag, remember.”

If it’s not such a secret, how come she’s whispering? It must be too dangerous to discuss the Resistance at all in this world. Which means I have to get over to Gingo Teag to talk to her openly. He nodded slowly. “I understand. I’d like to go there now.”

“Well, of course, Arnold! Jo will be delighted to see you. School ends half an hour later there, but by the time you get through the Gray Zone the bell should’ve already gone off. I told her you’d be back in school today and she said she’d tell her Mum to set an extra place at tea just in case you did come to pay a visit. So it’s all set!”

How am I supposed to know what she means by all those code words? Arnold wondered as he followed Gloria back behind the counter and to the door in the back wall that opened into the Gray Zone corridor. Maybe “tea” means some kind of poisonous stuff I can kill High Ones with!

Arnold was so excited by the thought that he’d soon get a chance to fight the High Ones himself that he barely paid attention to the inside-out transition between dimensions, and as he hurried along the Gray Zone hallway he didn’t notice the slick, oily patch on the tile floor until he was slipping on it, landing hard on his butt.

“Ow!” He tried to get up but slipped again, hitting his head on the floor hard enough that everything got funny and faraway, like that time he told Matt to get his own lunch money and Matt gave him a black eye.

He sat up and shook his head, trying to make the world stop turning around him. But it only seemed to spin harder, like in those tri-vids they saw in history class about the centrifuges NASA used before the Arrival to train astronauts for the primitive rockets they used back then.

The walls, floor, and ceiling dissolved into gray mist, then to a background of diamond-hard stars against a black night through which Arnold tumbled helplessly. Unlike that family trip to Mars they’d taken when he was in fourth grade, back before Mom got sick, there was no reassuring solidity of a spaceship around him, and no sign of the Sun or any planets nearby. He was falling through interstellar space!

I’m not an idiot, I know what that means. They’ll never find me! Other kids might learn to write down the numbers symbolizing the vastness of the universe, but that was just to pass a test. They never thought about what those numbers really meant. How human beings, and High Ones, and even stars and galaxies, were less than a handful of sand thrown into the Grand Canyon. How behind everything was a gulf of emptiness. The universe didn’t care what happened to him, or his family, or his planet. It was even worse than that: with its deadly radiation and its terrible gravity and its endless desert spaces, it wanted to kill him, it wanted to smash his face into the hard tarmac and leave him there to bleed to death, to send him tumbling forever like the man in the Ray Bradbury story, on his way to no particular night and no particular morning.

But as he fell through the silent blackness, a face floated before his dimming vision. A face with a mischievous gleam in its green-flecked brown eyes and its dirty blond hair pulled back in an untidy ponytail. Jo. I was on the way to see Jo. And with that thought, interstellar space vanished and a flickering blue gas flame took the place of the impossibly distant stars. And he wasn’t imagining Jo’s face, he was actually seeing it—seeing her kneeling down over him, saying his name.