IA: Initiate (19 page)

He came down onto his feet and stretched out his arms and legs. They weren’t tight, sore, or fatigued in anyway. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. He thought about how chess came so easy to him.

“Things I know without knowing.”

He stood on his hands again. This time he started to laugh as he turned around a few times, spread his legs out in the shape of a V, and did some push-ups that he remembered seeing someone do in a movie. “If only Meri could see me now.” He laughed again. He walked around the entire playscape on his hands twice, but when he tried to balance on one hand he began to falter. He stood on his feet again. He knew he could stand on one hand, but he could feel his arms getting tired. “I’m just not strong enough … yet.”

With a look of determination on his face he stood on his hands a third time. This time he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. He had found Nirvana in this place and was beginning to find it in his mind, too.
I could get used to this place,
he thought.
There were kids bigger and older than me lined up to take that test. Maybe I could take it, too.
It never occurred to him until this moment about the possibility of him going to International Academy, as well. He knew he could pass the test. He knew he could do anything he put his mind to.
Of course, then I’d probably have to do some homework
, he thought jokingly. He thought about the Market Merchants.
It wouldn’t work, if I couldn’t work. Room and board are good and all, but what about clothes, junk food, the phones, and other stuff for Meri and me?
He began to lose track of time. As he drifted, he heard a noise that didn’t belong and opened his eyes.

Meri and an older man were just turning the corner. Naz didn’t move. He couldn’t help but show off what he had just discovered about himself. The man pointed to Naz, and then went back in the direction he and Meri had come from.

Meri ran over to Naz, turned her head upside down so she was seeing him close up, face-to-face, and said, “Told you so.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

WHO I AM

They
took their time walking back to the train station. The trip was made complete with a stop at the hobby shop as a pre-celebration not only of Meri’s self-proclaimed success on the infamous International Academy test, but also a celebration of Naz’s own personal discovery. At the hobby shop they had fun taking pictures of each other with their camera phones and tried to top each other by picking what they thought was the most extravagant chess set they would buy one day when they “made it.”

On the train ride back, it was Meri’s turn to ask the questions. She wanted to know exactly what else Naz thought he could do. Did he know how to skate? Could he swim? What sports could he play? She reasoned that the way he ran for the Market Merchants, he had to have played some sport before, and he must’ve been good at it, but what sport? They both agreed it must’ve been football because there was a lot of running in football. She wondered if he knew karate, how to play the piano, or speak a different language. The problem was, he just wasn’t sure what he could do just by thinking about it. They were excited by the possibilities.

With them getting up early that morning, the pressure of the test, and the rest of the excitement of the day, the pacifying ride of the Helix had Meri fast asleep within thirty minutes. Naz was left to contemplate the implications of that morning on his own.

The reality was that he really didn’t know what he could do until he tried. He only knew that he could walk on his hands because of what Meri had told him that morning, and then he actually did it.

He hadn’t tried to swim since coming to live in the Exclave. Just the same, he was thinking he could swim, but he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or something from a repressed memory, and he had actually done it before. The only way he could know for sure was—just like walking on his hands—to take the plunge.

He looked down at Meri as she slept on his shoulder again. He missed her conversation now, but resisted waking her. One thing of which he was certain, was that if he could speak a different language, it wasn’t Spanish. He thought back to that first day of school in the Exclave with Ham and the knife fight.

His first Christmas in the Exclave, he remembered asking his mother for an electric piano he saw in a musical instrument catalog. He received an electric guitar instead. Thinking back, he wondered why she never got him the piano. It didn’t cost that much more than the guitar, which he had never asked for. The guitar was OK; he liked it fine and learned how to play it by ear well enough, but he never stopped wanting the piano. On the birthday that followed that first Christmas, he asked again, but still no piano. He wondered what it was about the piano that made him want it so badly, and even more importantly, why his mother didn’t get it for him. Maybe it was just too expensive.

He imagined himself playing a piano. He put his fingers on his lap and thought about the piano song he always heard when the ice cream truck came down their street. He moved his fingers back and forth as if he was actually playing the song he heard in his head, careful not to disturb Meri.
Can I play … or am I just pretending
? he wondered. Again, he just couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or something from a repressed memory. He would need a piano to find out. There was a musical instrument store in the maze of shops and businesses they had just left, but they were miles away now.
We won’t be going back there again until Meri starts school next fall
, he thought confidently. Musical instrument stores were few and far between in the Exclave; in fact, he couldn’t remember seeing one since he moved there. But there were pianos at school,
in the music room,
he remembered, and he found himself eager to get back there on Monday to test his theory.

And then there was this business of fighting. Karate, Meri said.
Could it be possible that I could have defended myself that first day of school
? Naz wondered.
But I just stood there. I didn’t do anything
, he thought regretfully.
I guess, I would have needed to try at least. So what now? How do I test myself on fighting? I can’t just go pick a fight with somebody. I know. I could enter a contest, like in “The Karate Kid”
or like Peter Parker did in “Spiderman.” That’s stupid. Those were just movies. If Meri’s wrong, or made up some of those things she said happened at the park, I could get hurt pretty bad. But what if she was right … about all she said, then—someone else could get hurt,
he lamented.

He continued to run these thoughts and more through his head, as before his very eyes, the images outside the train transformed into the Exclave once more. As they passed through Marshal Park, Naz recommitted himself to his over-arching goal of getting his little sister out of what he thought a godforsaken place. Today, he saw the nicer places of the suburbs for the first time since he could remember, and his passion was rekindled.

They were headed downtown to the festival. At first, it was just a reward for Meri doing well on the test. But now, there was an added incentive. The hobby shop, Meri’s conversation, and a passion for chess started a smaller fire in Naz. The last time he was at the festival was over two years ago with his mother. He had just discovered he could play chess when she pulled him away from the tables. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but he had a score to settle: unfinished business with the Chess Master.

Word was that the Chess Master was some kind of homeless genius that had gone mad. Almost every Saturday in the summer and fall, you could find him at the chess tables. There were nine tables arranged in a triangle with chairs on the outside of the triangle and the Chess Master in the center. The nine tables represented the nine boroughs of the Exclave. The Chess Master would only play when there were nine opponents available and no less. Some said he hadn’t lost a game in over ten years. Others said he had never lost, even when he was a small boy, and that’s how he went mad. Naz didn’t believe any of it. He thought it was all made up, and he couldn’t imagine losing to anybody, especially some homeless man.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE FESTIVAL

Once
they arrived at the festival, Meri came to life again. She thought this was the very best day of her life. She awakened that morning to an exhilarating conversation and a game of chess, although she didn’t win. But she could bear losing to Naz, and he was about the only one. She got to ride the Helix to another world and show what she was made of. She also got to hang out with her big brother and fantasize about the future and other amazing things. But now she was at her favorite place in the whole world, the festival, a place where people came from all over to do almost anything. Like Naz, Meri hadn’t been there in over two years, since before the accident.

There were palm-readers, face-painters, and tattoo artists. She and Naz could get on small amusement park rides, play games to win prizes, and eat different dishes and all kinds of junk food until they were sick to their stomachs. They could listen to all different kinds of music with live bands and singers on different stages all over the place. All of this and more were on the edge of a beautiful river where people would dock their boats and hold their own private parties. And then there were the circle of tents filled with art and jewelry from artisans that came from every corner of the world.

“This was Momma’s favorite place to be in the whole world,” said Meri, as they both stood in front of one of the tents and admired the Middle Eastern sculptures.

“Yeah, but why?” asked Naz. “She never bought anything. We just went from tent to tent … looking. Come to think of it, we didn’t have any paintings or sculptures at home either.”

“Maybe because of ‘him’.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, distracted. His attention was now focused on why he had come.

She turned to see what had caught his attention. “Oh …,” she said.

As usual, in the midst of all the tents were the nine tables in a triangle, home of the Chess Master. At each table was a chess set with a white flag next to it. The flag was either standing up denoting that table was available for the next round or lying down, denoting it was reserved.

When Naz walked over to the tables there were only three available. He thought it fortuitous that the table labeled Marshal Park was still available. The labels were more for show than anything else, and it really didn’t matter which table he reserved.

“Are you gonna play?” asked Meri. She could hardly contain herself.

He nodded as he put the flag down on the Marshal Park table and wrote his name on the chalkboard strips at the top and bottom of the chessboard in front of him. There was one distinguished-looking gentleman already sitting at the table across from Naz’s table, but the rest of the chairs were empty. He and Naz greeted each other with a nod. It was quiet around the tables, the quietest place at the festival, Naz thought, and the Chess Master was nowhere in sight. There were only two tables available now. Naz walked away from the tables.

“Where are we going?” asked Meri.

“I wanna watch from back here.” He stood near one of the tents and watched with eager anticipation, supporting his elbow with one hand and his other hand on his chin.

Something caught Meri’s attention, and she ducked inside the tent.

“Don’t go too far,” he called to her. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited, but he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn’t afford to hear the voice when he was about to play the best chess player on the planet,
besides me
, he thought with a laugh. As he looked on, like Meri, he couldn’t help thinking that this was a good day.

“Únete a nosotros,”
said Gruff. Taking advantage of the serene moment, he had somehow managed to sneak up behind Naz undetected.

Naz almost jumped out of his skin as he turned to see what he now knew was part of a gang with designs on making him their newest member. Gruff was flanked by Mohawk and Red. Naz tried to appear calm, as he replied, “
No hablo español.
”