The Prisoner of Cell 25 (8 page)

Without even thinking about it I surged.

There were at least twenty people on the bench and they all

jumped up at once, like they were doing the wave. Tim also jumped,

spilling his Coke all over himself. At first Taylor just looked confused, then she looked down the bench and saw me. She glared.

“Why’d you do that?” Ostin asked, rubbing his butt. “That really

hurt.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

We walked down to the floor and started to leave the auditorium

when Taylor shouted, “Michael!” I turned around. She stormed up to

me, her eyes snapping. She glared at Ostin. “Texas boy, leave.”

“Okay,” Ostin said, quickly walking away.

M I C H A E L V E Y

63

She turned back to me. “What was that?”

I was twitching like crazy. “None of your business.”

“It is my business when you act stupid and start drawing attention

to yourself.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re always the center of attention.”

“I’m talking about drawing attention to your power.”

“Is it really that you’re worried about or is it Tim Wadsworth?”

“Tim Wadsworth?” Her expression softened. “Oh, I get it. You’re

jealous that I was talking to him.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

She smiled. “Hey,” she said sweetly, putting her arms out. “Come

here.” I couldn’t believe she had gone so quickly from wanting to hit me to wanting to hug me, but I didn’t really understand girls at all. I just went along with it. “You know, Michael . . .”

Touching her felt really wonderful. “Yes?”

Suddenly she pushed me back. “Ha, you are jealous.”

She had hugged me to read my mind. “You tricked me.”

“Yeah, well you just shocked a whole row of people. The custo-

dian is under the bleachers looking to see if there’s a loose wire or something.”

“Well . . .”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. We both stood there stupidly

when suddenly she started to laugh. She was soon laughing so hard

she was crying. I just watched her. I was totally confused. “This is so crazy,” she said. “Could you imagine if these people around here

could hear what we’re saying?”

“They’d think we’re nuts.”

“You should have seen Tim’s face when you shocked him. He

had Coke dripping from his hair.” She looked into my eyes. “I don’t

remember the last time I had this much fun. I’m so glad I’ve gotten

to know you.”

“Me too,” I said.

She exhaled. “Well, I’ve got to get back to cheering or Mrs. Shaw

will have my head. But you and Dallas are still coming to the party

with me, right?”

“Ostin,” I corrected.

“Sorry, I keep getting that wrong.”

“Yeah, we’ll come. If you still want us.”

“Of course I do. It will be fun. Besides, I really have to talk to you about what I found out.”

“Great. Where should we meet?”

“Just come down to the floor after the game. See ya.” She took a

few steps and then stopped. “By the way, you’re a lot cuter than Tim Wadsworth.”

She spun around and ran back to the floor. I don’t know. It may

have been the greatest moment of my life.  

10. A Suspicious Coincidence

The end of the game was pretty exciting. Meridian was ahead by just one point with three seconds left on the clock when they fouled Cottonwood’s best player, sending him to the line to shoot free throws. He must have been pretty nervous because he missed both of his shots badly—one of them by at least ten feet.

Everyone went wild. After the game Ostin and I walked down to the floor. Taylor was surrounded by a couple dozen friends but she smiled when she saw me. “Ready to go?”

I nodded.

“Angel’s dad is going to give us a ride to Maddie’s.”

“Me too?” Ostin asked.

“Of course.”

The four of us walked out to the parking lot. Angel was a pretty Asian girl, and Ostin just stared at her until it was embarrassing.

Finally she stopped and turned to him. “What?”

“Ostin,” he said, putting out his hand to shake.

She looked at his hand, then slowly put out her own. “I’m Angel.”

“Are you Chinese or Japanese?”

Her brow furrowed. “Chinese.”

“Were you born in China?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “What brought your parents to America? Opportunity? Freedom of speech?”

“My parents are American,” she said. “I was adopted.”

“Oh, you’re adopted.”

I wanted to smack him.

“Sorry, Angel,” I said. “Ostin doesn’t get out much.”

“Hardly ever,” he said.

She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

“And I think you’re the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Enough,” I said to him.

I noticed that Angel smiled.

Maddie’s home was on a long, tree-lined street called Walker Lane, where the rich kids in our school lived. I think her home could have fit our entire apartment building in it and still have had room for an indoor swimming pool, which, by the way, it had. It was the first party I’d been invited to since we moved to Idaho, unless you count Ostin’s last birthday party, which was only me and his obnoxious cousin, Brent, who only came because his aunt made him. Brent broke a beaker in Ostin’s new chemistry set within five minutes of Ostin opening the box. I thought Ostin would have a mental breakdown.

Angel’s dad drove a nice car, a BMW with leather seats the texture and color of footballs. I knew it meant nothing to these kids to ride in a car like that, but I thought it was really cool. So did Ostin.

He was grinning like a Cheshire cat, though it also may have been because he was sitting next to Angel. When Mr. Smith dropped us off I said, “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled. “It’s nice to see that not everyone’s lost their manners. You’re welcome, son.”

As we walked up to the house, Taylor took my arm. “Well played.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “You’re a real gentleman.”

The stairway to the house was lined with little pointy trees growing in ceramic pots. I stopped at the door. I don’t always notice my vocal tics, but I was gulping loud enough to get Taylor’s attention.

Taylor looked at me. “You okay?” she asked.

I stopped gulping. “Yeah. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“It’s cool. Don’t worry about it. We’re just here to have fun.”

I took a deep breath. “All right.”

She opened the door and we were met by a rush of music and light. The house was filled with kids. Maddie, one of the cheerleaders we’d met at lunch, was standing by the door talking to several basketball players. The only one I knew was Spencer.

“Hey, Tay!” Maddie shouted. The girls hugged. They did a lot of that.

Spencer looked over. “Hi, Taylor.”

“You were awesome tonight, Spence!” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “You were awesome.”

“Thanks, little dude.”

Maddie looked at me and cocked her head. “What’s your name again? Trent? Trett?” I suddenly realized that she was thinking Tourette.

“No. It’s Michael.”

“Michael. I wonder why I thought it was Trett.”

“And I’m Ostin,” Ostin said.

She didn’t even look at him.

“You have a nice house,” I said.

“Yeah.” She patted my arm. “Well, have fun.” She flitted off.

Ostin was clinging to me like lint to a belly button—at least until he spotted the food table. “Hey, hold the phone, I’ll be right back.”

Taylor turned to me. “Hold what phone?”

“It’s just a saying. He found the food.”

“Good. They’ll be happy together.”

A moment later Ostin returned carrying a plate brimming with potato chips and brownies. “This stuff is great.”

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” Taylor said.

“My home is nothing like this.”

“Would you like a drink?” I asked Taylor, surprising myself at how formal I sounded.

She reciprocated my tone. “Why yes, kind sir. Thank you.”

“Come on, Ostin,” I said.

On the way to get a soda, Ostin said to me, “I never thought I’d be invited to a party at a place like this.”

“I never thought I’d be invited to a party,” I said.

The food table was in the middle of a luxurious dining room where lit wall insets held porcelain statues spaced evenly between large, original oil paintings mostly of fruit bowls. In the center of the food-laden table was a large tub of ice, packed with bottled water and cans of soda. Drew walked up to me.

“Hey, it’s little Chuck Norris. Give me some,” he said, raising his hand.

“Hey, Drew,” I said. I set down the cup and we high-fived, clasping hands as we did. He fell to one knee pretending I had him in some kind of kung fu grip. “Don’t hurt me, man,” he laughed. “Don’t hurt me.”

I chuckled nervously. “Hey, congrats on the game. You guys played really well.”

“We dodged a bullet, man. Cooper is their best free throw shooter and he tossed two bricks in the last three seconds. We were lucky.”

Living alone with Mom, I had never engaged in small talk about sports, so I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right. “Well, you know what they say about being lucky . . .”

Drew looked stumped. “No. What do they say?”

“It’s better to be lucky than good.”

He looked at me for a moment, then laughed. “You’re all right, little dude.”

“Hi,” Ostin said.

“Hey, what’s up, Houston?”

“Nothing. Just hanging.”

“Houston, we have a problem,” Drew said, then burst out laughing at himself.

Just then a mountain of flesh named Corky walked up behind Drew. Corky was the size of a small planet and had an entourage of girls who moved around him like satellites. I knew who Corky was only because he was always being called up onstage at the school assemblies for winning some award or another. The last thing he’d won was the State Heavyweight Wrestling Championship. He took Drew in a choke hold, then released him. “Drew-meister, what gives?”

“Just hanging around the oasis with my little black-belt friend.”

Corky looked me over. My head barely came to his chest. “This isn’t the guy you were talking about.”

“He’s the man,” Drew said. “Little Chuck Norris.”

“He’s a shrimp.”

“Only on the outside,” Drew said. “On the inside he’s a powder keg of pain, just waiting to explode on someone.”

Corky laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? I could crush him like a bug.”

“I’d like to see that,” said Drew. “Battle of the Titans.”

Corky pointed a massive finger at me. “You’re talking about the little guy?”

Drew put his arm around me. “This is exactly who I am talking about.”

He looked at me incredulously. “C’mon, little guy,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “Let’s go outside and spar a little. I want to see what you got.”

Drew laughed. “He’ll mess you up, dude. I’m not kidding.”

“I’ve got to see this,” one of the girls said.

“I’ve got to get Taylor a drink . . . ,” I said.

“She won’t die of thirst,” Corky said. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you.  We’re just playing around.”

Just then Taylor walked up. “Hi guys. Hi Cork.” She looked around. “What’s going on?”

“Corky wants to engage the little dude in hand-to-hand,” Drew said. “Called him out.”

Taylor looked at me, then back at Drew. “What?”

Ostin translated. “He heard about Michael’s fight with Jack and he wants to see what Michael can do.”

“Black belt or not, I’m going to crush him,” Corky said.

Taylor glanced over at me with a look that said:
How do you get 
yourself into these things?
Then, to my surprise, she said, “Awesome. Let’s do it.” She looked around then shouted. “Everyone outside! Michael’s going to take down Corky!”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. As we walked out amid the river of bodies I whispered, “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“Trust me.”

“That you will get me killed?”

“No, I’m trying to get you out of this mess.”

The house emptied as everyone poured out of the house into the backyard. Corky started cracking his knuckles. Ostin grabbed my shoulder. “Dude, you know you can’t use your power.”

“I know.”

“He’s going to kill you.”

“I know.”

Taylor walked to the front of the crowd as if she were the master of ceremonies. “Okay, so here’s the deal. First one knocked to the ground loses. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough,” Corky said, bobbing a little.

“Taylor . . . ,” I said.

She reached into her pocket. “And here’s a twenty-dollar bill that says Michael’s going to put Corky on his back. Any takers?”

Everyone looked at each other, but to my surprise, no one was willing to bet against her. I mean, the guy could wad me up like a piece of paper and shoot me out a straw. Taylor looked at Corky. “C’mon, Corky. You’re going to crush him, right? Where’s your money?”

He looked at her hesitantly. “I don’t have my wallet . . .”

“In fact, let’s make it sweeter. The loser has to wear my skirt to school on Monday.”

I looked at her. Now I was sure she was trying to get back at me for shocking Tim at the game.

“All day. And, he has to carry the other’s books and tie his shoes.”

To my surprise Corky was suddenly looking very nervous.

“Come on, Corky,” Taylor said. “He’s half your size. On the other hand, there’s only one of you. The last time I saw him, he had three guys on their backs begging for mercy. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Taylor turned back to face the crowd, who had formed a half circle around them. “Who wants to see Corky wearing my skirt on Monday?”

A large cheer went up. I noticed that Corky was sweating. “Hey, I was just kidding around. I don’t want to hurt the little guy. Cool?”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Cool.”

Just then Drew stepped in. “Arrgh,” Drew said in his best pirate, “them be fightin’ wards, matie. Wards yu’ll be a regrettin’. Lil Norris be so tough he can kick the back side ’a yar face.”