Authors: Greg Logsted
I glance at the clock. “No! These clocks, I swear.” I bolt to my feet. “I’m really late. I’ve gotta run.”
I
gently tap on Andy’s bedroom window.
The curtains move just the slightest bit, as if someone’s peeking around the corner and then they’re yanked to the side and he’s standing there in his underwear. He looks wide awake although I’m sure he was sleeping just five seconds ago.
With his shirt off he seems more muscular, almost square, like one of those Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots my dad and I used to play with. He’s also got a nice tattoo on his shoulder; it’s a cobra with a knife in its mouth. I avoid looking at the stump of his missing arm and the long scar across his side.
He opens the window and grins. “What’s up with the suit?”
“I’m sick of wearing clothes I don’t understand.”
He gives me a puzzled look. “Okay, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me right now, but then again I just woke up.”
I cover my mouth; it’s something my dad taught me, an added
precaution in case someone’s watching you. “We’ve got to talk.”
His grin turns into a smile. “Well, I don’t know a whole lot about suits but you look all right to me.”
I keep my hand over my mouth. “No, we’ve got to talk about last night.”
The smile disappears. “What about last night?”
“I saw you in the woods.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and I saw the man you were tracking.”
His face changes; he becomes very serious. He pushes the window open wider, leans forward, and lowers his voice. “Really? You saw the ghost?”
“The ghost?”
“That’s what I call him because I’ve never seen him and he’s so quiet. I was beginning to wonder if I was just being paranoid. I thought maybe all these flashbacks of the war were starting to mess with my mind.”
I remember the way he moved. “The ghost” is an excellent name. “No, you’re not being paranoid. I heard something last night and I went to investigate—”
Andy interrupts me. “That was my trap, he sprung my trap. I couldn’t believe it. He’s avoided all my others and trips a simple log-drop. Afterward I was beginning to wonder if it was just a deer.”
“No, it wasn’t a deer, that’s for sure. I saw him. I was perched
in a tree. Big guy, dressed in black, ski mask, moved fast and completely silent. Professional. Dangerous. Had a nasty weapon, you should be glad you didn’t catch up with him.”
“Armed with what?”
I struggle to remember the name of the weapon, I almost give up, then it comes to me. “A SIG 550 assault rifle with what looked like a night scope.”
“Seriously?”
I nod my head. “Yeah.”
“Oh man, what’s going on here?”
“I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”
He shakes his head. “It’s a mystery to me. What was he doing? Did you see anything?”
“Yeah, he got some kind of metal box that was hidden by the tree line.”
Andy’s eyes open a little wider. “Huh? By the tree line? How big was it?”
“About this big.” I show him with my hands. “What do you think it was?”
He clenches his jaw tightly. His expression looks grim. “We can’t talk about this now. Not here. We’ll discuss it later. I feel like I’m wading into something without knowing how deep it is. I think it’s time I know a little more about your past.”
“About my past?”
“Now’s not the time. We’ll talk later.”
“But—”
He holds up his hand. “I said later.”
“Okay.” I start to walk away then stop. “Andy?”
“Later.”
“It’s about something else.”
“What?”
I look at my polished shoes. “Um, your friend Annie, is her last name Carrington?”
“It is.”
“Does she have a sister, Renee?”
“She does. Why?”
“Um, she’s in my history class. I better run. Talk to you later.”
I start to walk away.
“Cody.”
I turn around. “Yeah.”
“Keep your eyes open. Be careful.”
That’s what my dad had told me. I nod my head and walk toward the bus stop.
I thought I
was going to miss the bus, but the usual collection of kids are still standing at the stop, side by side like books on a shelf.
Why do they do that? You’d think they’d walk around or something, but they just stand there staring across the street into the woods. It’s kind of eerie, almost like they’re prisoners awaiting execution. They might as well tie blindfolds around their heads.
I join the group fully expecting everyone to take one look at my suit and then rip me apart like a fortune cookie, but nobody says anything, not one word, not even “Good morning.”
I study Albert. He’s messing with his backpack. Like he suddenly has to find something in there that’s really important. He seems angry.
“Hey…is everything all right?”
He digs deeper in his backpack and doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just looking for something.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Ah, you know, um, stuff…stuff that I…can’t seem to find.”
He continues to dig. Unless he’s got something sewed into the lining of his pack, I don’t think he’s going to find whatever he’s looking for.
“You sure everything’s all right?”
“Yeah, fine.” His voice sounds different.
Something’s wrong. I’m used to people giving me a hard time, it’s what they do. I stare at Albert, sifting through his books like he’s panning for gold. I’m getting aggravated. I should tie him to a tree and force him to make fun of my suit.
I glance at Cell Phone Girl. She quickly looks away. The redheaded iPod girl has her back to me; her music is blasting, she’s safely enclosed in her little bubble of noise. There are two other kids I’ve never talked to before. I’ve always thought of them as Neighborhood Kid A and Neighborhood Kid B. Both of them are standing at attention, staring straight ahead, like those unblinking English guards assigned to protect the queen.
Albert just keeps on digging but I think if he could, he’d leave his books by the side of the road and crawl into that pack. What’s going on here?
Cell Phone Girl’s phone goes off with some hip-hop ringtone I’ve never heard before. Instead of answering it, she just lets it ring and looks at me. There’s a pleading, apologetic look in her eyes, the same kind of look you’d give someone if you accidentally ran
over their cat in the driveway.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?”
She digs the phone out of her bag.
“Hello…Yeah, um, I can’t talk right now…. I’ll call you later…. No, really I can’t…. Seriously, I can’t…. You know why…. Yes…
Yes
…I gotta go. Bye…. I will. Bye…Bye.”
She clicks the phone shut, slips it back into her bag, and desperately tries to act natural, standing there, looking around, doing everything but whistle. I feel like we’re all playing tennis with a bowling ball.
Albert zips up his pack. I walk over to him. “What’s going on?”
He shakes his head and mutters, “You know.”
“Know what? I don’t know anything.”
He glares at me, points at the others, and snaps, “They all think you’re some kind of crazy psychopath.” Then pointing at himself, “And I’m mad that you broke the code!”
“What code? What are you talking about?”
“I haven’t told Andy yet but I’m sure he’s going to be upset, too.”
I throw up my arms. “What code? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“My sensei at the dojo taught us that the first rule of karate is to hide your karate like a buried treasure. That means you don’t go around busting heads just because you can. You only use it to defend yourself.”
“I
was
defending myself, and Frank Flynn, too. They were pushing us around in the gym. Someone kicked me in the back. Pogo Stick threw a punch at me. Hey, it was six against one.”
Albert rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and growls, “You’re such a…” He stops and gains control of his anger. “That’s not the story I heard. Everyone said you just went crazy and almost killed those guys. They think you’re a seriously messed-up psycho. And I think they might be right.”
I hold up my hands. “That’s not what happened. Really. Why would I do that? It doesn’t make any sense. Besides, how does
everyone
even know about it? All this just happened yesterday.”
“What planet are you from? This is all everybody’s talking about. You know, cell phones, e-mails, someone even posted a video on YouTube. They reenacted the whole episode using G.I. Joe dolls.”
“Really?” I can’t believe this.
“Hey, you’re a star. You’re the talk of the school. I guess that’s why you’re wearing the suit. Getting ready for your big close-up, Mr. Hollywood?”
“I’m wearing the suit because I like wearing suits, that’s all.”
“Yeah, right, whatever you say.”
This is another fine example of why this whole school routine can just drive a guy completely nuts. I didn’t have to deal with this kind of stuff when it was just me and my dad. Maybe that’s the real purpose of school: to drive everyone bonkers.
I wonder if it’s even worth trying to convince him what really happened. He seems to have made up his mind based on what he’s heard and some stupid homemade video using dolls. It surprises me how much his anger hurts.
I guess I value his friendship more than I realized.
The bus finally bounces around the corner, giving me an excuse to put off this conversation until I can figure out what to say.
For once the sight of the Yankees-capped, unsmiling bus driver who wears a road map for a face is a welcome one. She swings open the door and the others wait for me to enter. As I walk up the stairs, the noise level of the bus dims with each step I take.
I stand at the head of the aisle looking for an open seat. Everyone seems to be staring at me and I don’t think it’s because of my clothes.
A guy in the fourth row yells, “Ready…aim…suit!”
He laughs at his own joke until a girl behind him leans forward and whispers into his ear. The smile on his face is instantly replaced with alarm.
Someone I’ve never seen before in the back of the bus stands and shouts, “Hey, Cody! Back here, I saved you a seat!”
I’m more curious than anything else. I see a few other empty seats, but who is this big kid with the black leather jacket and multiple facial piercings? Why is he so desperate for me to sit with him?
There are two really good-looking girls sitting in the seat next to him, waving. “Yeah, Cody! Sit with us!”
I walk to the back of the bus. The guy with the leather jacket extends his hand. I go to shake it but he starts with some kind of bizarre handshake I don’t understand, grabbing, punching, and pointing. My dad told me that a handshake is the measure of a man. This is more like synchronized swimming; I’m not sure what it’s supposed to measure.
In the end we revert to the conventional handshake I’m familiar with.
“Cody, good to see you again. I’d like to introduce you to the girls. This here is Amber, and that’s Nicki.”
Both girls smile and call out together, “Hey, Cody.”
He grabs my arm. “Come on, sit down, sit down.”
I’m pulled down next to him and he moves in close. The smell of leather, cigarettes, and his foul breath is overpowering. He speaks in a dull, steady voice like some kind of cave-dwelling creature. “The girls, they really wanted to meet you. I told them not to worry, I’d introduce you. I always keep my word.”
“Do I know you?”
He laughs—it sounds like nuts and bolts being shaken in a can—and gives me a light punch on the shoulder. “Duh, I’m in your Spanish class.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, of course, I sit in the back row by the door. Actually, I
haven’t been to class in a while but I was there for your first day. You know, when you got kicked out.”
I study his face; he looks like he could be sixteen. Did he stay back a few times? I think I’ve seen him around school but I’m not sure. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”
“It’s Troy, Troy Sampson. Everybody knows who I am. Ask around.” He lowers his voice. “If you ever want anything, I mean anything at all, I’m your man.”
I stare at the back of the seat in front of me trying to figure out what “anything” in a junior high school could mean. I’ve come across guys like Troy all over the world. Every town and city has a Troy. Sometimes they can be useful, but more often than not they’re magnets for trouble who should be avoided.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He smiles. “Do that. I don’t disappoint. Now how about meeting the girls?”
“Um, sure.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a little shake. “Oh, one more thing. I really like this suit. I mean it’s totally you, totally cool. What a great statement. It’s very…
American Gangster
. I loved that movie.”
“Thanks…um, I guess.”
Troy winks, then switches seats with the girls. They squeeze in next to me. Both of them talk really fast. They’re very attractive but equally annoying; it’s like mixing sugar and salt. All things
considered, I think I’d rather be left alone. Besides, all they really want to talk about is the fight. I don’t want to talk about it.
The ride takes forever. I really hate this bus.
School, with its mirrored front doors and kids scurrying around like very loud, backpack-clad cockroaches, is a welcome sight. I’m not sure how much longer I could have lasted with Amber and Nicki. How could a conversation with two beautiful girls prove to be so mind-numbingly painful? I seriously considered launching myself out that emergency exit door on a number of occasions.
Troy and the girls walk with me to the school. I try to act like we all just happen to be walking in the same direction but they keep talking to me, asking questions and laughing like we’re sharing the world’s biggest joke together.
When we march into school the first person I see is Frank Flynn. He’s leaning against a wall. His huge bulk makes him look like he’s sinking into it.
We make eye contact and he quickly signals me to join him. I nod back my agreement.
I turn to Troy. “Hey, I’ve got to talk to someone. See you later.”
He seems both surprised and disappointed. “Um, sure. No problem. I’m always around. Remember what I said about if you ever need anything.”
“Yeah, um, I’ll remember.”
His fist is between us. Hovering in the air, waiting for me to start the mystical handshake of the self-proclaimed cool kids. I’ve had enough. I briefly consider a quick roundhouse to his chin instead but dismiss the idea, although it’s not without merit.
I grab his fist and pump it up and down a few times before dismissing him. If he senses my annoyance, he doesn’t let on.
Amber and Nicki smile, give me little girl waves and a singsong, “Bye-bye, Cody!”
Nicki blows me a kiss before the two girls link arms and glide down the hall together. They seem magnetic—all the guys turn and watch them walk by.
I’ve been wondering what my mother was like when she was my age. I’m sure she wasn’t like that. Maybe she was quiet and kept to herself. I really don’t know. I’ll have to ask Jenny.
I walk over to Frank. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing with Troy Sampson?”
“You know him?”
He shakes his head in disgust. “I don’t know him. I just know
of
him. Everyone does. Troy is trouble. Last year he shoved my head in a toilet. I think he’s shoved everyone’s head in a toilet. He’s not someone you want to be friends with.”
“He’s not my friend.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me. You guys seemed real chummy.”
I can feel a smile tugging its way onto my face. “Did you say
chummy
?”
He stops leaning on the wall and stands up straight. “Well, you know what I mean, you looked friendly. Listen, all I’m saying is watch out, he’s the Tony Soprano of our school.”
“Who’s Tony Soprano?”
“You know, of
The Sopranos
.”
“What are the sopranos?”
His eyes open wide. “Haven’t you ever heard of the show,
The Sopranos
?”
“Sorry, I don’t watch television.”
“Well, that’s just…well, it’s just weird. Who doesn’t watch TV?”
“I guess I don’t.”
“Well, the point is, watch out for Troy, he’s trouble.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Frank. I don’t like the guy. I don’t even like his two girlfriends.”
“You mean Amber and Nicki?”
“Yeah.”
Frank looks up and down the hall before covering his mouth and leaning forward. His voice is so low I can barely hear it. “Rumor has it they’ll do absolutely
anything
he tells them to do.”
“I guess that’s…interesting to know.”
Frank starts to laugh. His whole body shakes. “That’s one way to put it, ‘interesting to know.’”
He stops laughing and gets serious. “Cody, I have to tell you
something.”
“Sure, what’s the matter?”
His gaze falls to the floor. “It’s about yesterday.”
“What about it?”
“Um, I just wanted to apologize.”
“Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was the other guys who were being jerks.”
He stops looking at the floor and looks me in the eye. “Yeah, they were jerks but I should have done something to help. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“It’s just that the whole thing kinda freaked me out. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It all happened so fast. I thought they were all…well, you know what I thought.”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it. Okay?”
“Okay…Thanks.”
He steps backward and gives me an appraising look. “So, now that I got that out of the way, tell me something—what’s up with the suit?”
“Nothing. I just feel more comfortable in suits.”
“Yeah, well, I feel more comfortable in my pajamas and slippers but you don’t see me wearing them to school.”
I start to laugh, picturing Frank walking around the halls in his pajamas. “I grew up with my dad. I’ve always worn a suit. When I dress like I’ve been dressing here in school, to me it feels
like I’m wearing my pajamas in public.”