CHAPTER EIGHT
I struggled to keep my balance as I pulled myself up, using my open locker for support. Dizziness poured over my body like it had been inserted via syringe. What had I done to deserve that to happen to me? It certainly didn’t help that the only person I could trust with this information, Jessica, was mad at me for some silly reason. Clearly, I understood women about as much as the supernatural.
Lathon didn’t take long to grasp control over Vick’s body. He made his first order of business to leap on to one of the benches, while simultaneously smacking his head against the ceiling, sending pieces of drywall tumbling to the ground.
He said, “This is ten times the fun of playing your dodge ball game. You kids are definitely confused about what can be labeled a sport. Heck, there is nothing to slap your head against on Draio. It is practically nothing but open air.”
I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that when they re-opened I would be acquainted with a big reveal that all of that was a big joke. None of it was really happening.
Lathon slammed Vick’s body against the lockers like he was a human air hockey puck, bouncing back and forth before I caught him with my hands. My pipe dream of it all going away vanished: every bit of it was real.
He said, “Well, where do we go next on this journey?”
I said, “We? Where do we go? The first thing that you are going to do is whatever Merlin tricks it takes to get your body out of Vick’s. We are humans, not puppets.”
Lathon looked dumbfounded. He said, “Forgive me if I am confused, but was Vick not ready to rip you into tiny Alan pieces a moment ago? If anything, I have saved your life or does life not mean much to humans?”
I wiped my tears of frustration away, accepting I couldn’t make my new companion disappear, “Is there not some code that Silhouettes have to follow.”
“A code?”
“Yeah, a moral code.”
While propping his back against the nearest locker, Lathon folded his arms. I could’ve ripped the smug grin off of his face if I thought he could not have killed me on the spot.
“What would this code say? Before you start, will you also tell me who wrote this code? Bonus points if you can tell me when.”
I glared at him for a second, but before I could get a word out the second bell letting me know I was late for class went off. “Crap.”
Pulling my shirt and pants out of the locker to replace my gym clothes, I noticed my hands were sweating along with my rising anxiety. Mr. LeCarre, Jessica’s father, taught my next class and I was going to be not just late but detention-worthy late. Vick was in that class along with me, so Lathon would be joining. My nerves wouldn’t even let me untie the drawstring that was keeping the gym shorts on my body.
Lathon snickered, “Would you like some assistance? I find myself to be an exquisite fashionista. If anything, I am practically a god.”
He flicked his finger and thumb together, generating a snap none too different from a firecracker. In seconds, my gym clothes flew into my locker while folding themselves into a perfect stack. My original outfit for the day burst into a storm of threads, wrapped around my body and sewed themselves in place.
I looked to Lathon who never moved from his spot on the locker. He said, “Yeah, that really happened. If I may, I believe we are late for your class.”
He snapped again and Vick’s gym clothes flew passed me on their way to their own locker, leaving an awful smell ranging between onions and spinach hanging in the air. I watched them burst into threads and slither through the open slits. When I turned around, Lathon had Vick completely dressed in an old sweatshirt and jeans.
He pointed his finger towards the doorway and said, “Lead the way.”
Making me jump an inch or two back, the door to the locker room opened so hard it left a dent in the wall. Lathon wasn’t sure what happened either as a pair of stomping footsteps entered the room. Coach Cyrus’ disproportioned frame came into focus. At first, his eyes were furious to find two stragglers in the locker room, but they switched to confusion to find me, but most importantly Vick.
He said, “What do you two idiots think you’re doing in here?”
Lathon did the honors, “I first noticed Alan had injured his ankle when I threw the seventh dodge ball. Yes, his team did appear to be in the lead, but even someone of your superior mind would find it impossible to notice a child in pain.”
“If you must know, I was in here helping a friend get dressed for class. Does that make me an idiot? Maybe. I rather hold that banner high before letting another man fall when I had the chance to help a brother in need.”
Coach Cyrus looked around Lathon at me. Quickly, I moved my stance to a limp, letting out a cry of pain as I dragged my left leg to the closest bench. The coach’s face was littered with skepticism. I knew instantly the next course of action would be suspension. To my surprise, a few tears fell from his eyes.
He said, “I have never been more proud of you, Vick. Some men were put on this earth to help the worthless. You will definitely go far in this world. When you are ready to go to class, I will write you a pass.”
I was so happy the plan had worked that I didn’t notice that I had been inadvertently called worthless. I almost felt I could get used to having a supernatural friend.
Lathon decided to overdo it. He said, “I would not want to make it difficult for my friend to walk.”
He got on his knees, gripped my leg into his arms, and pretended to snap my ankle back into place. He motioned for me to stand up. I feigned a big, goofy grin and walked around like I had just been witness to a miracle. Coach Cyrus applauded, promising he’d let the principle know who deserved to be student of the year at Dahlgreen High. We got our hall passes and walked off to class.
The hallways completely empty, Lathon ran freely with his fists raised. He was on top of the world. It had not occurred to me what having a body could mean to someone that had spent their entire life without one. It left a sour taste in my mouth thinking about it. Who was I to rob him of his joy?
I figured Lathon was no different than my mother. She spent my entire childhood following my father to any country of his choosing just like Lathon was ousted from his home world. I may never have gained any memories, but Mom never gained any roots. The dream chasers came along and we were barely a family at all. We had become a traveling circus and my mother was the tiger in the cage.
I did not want to be the one to end Lathon’s fun, but we were approaching fifteen minutes late to Mr. LeCarre’s class. I said, “Lathon, it is the next class on the left. Mr. LeCarre’s social studies.”
Lathon froze dead in his tracks. He turned around, saying, “Could you run that passed me one more time?”
I said, “Mr. LeCarre’s—”
He cut me off, “That is all I need. Where is the traitor?”
“I’m sorry?”
“A LeCarre living in the general vicinity of the Quinn’s? I told you nothing in your life has been a coincidence. Even worse, the git has been having offspring. Mating with humans? I have a lot to say to that wretch.”
I made a weak attempt to catch his shoulder before he went bursting through the door. I wished for telepathic powers, so I could apologize to Mr. LeCarre. Why not? Slowly, the word impossible was disappearing from my vocabulary.
I walked into the room. The students collectively had their jaws wide open. Lathon had taken a stance before Mr. LeCarre’s desk. To them, it was the abhorred Vick.
Mr. LeCarre with his thick, scraggly beard and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses could not disguise how terribly confused he was at that precise moment. I always thought he was a hippie. He kept his hair long and his outfits were colorful, yet outdated by forty years. I’d call him laid back, but he looked like he was pre
pared to leap over his desk at the drop of a hat as Lathon took center stage.
Lathon yelled, “I see you sitting their with your human mask, teaching them about their history when you could not even begin to tell me about ours. You were always a coward. What would Reese think if he saw you right now? Teaching his children? You deserve permadeath for your crimes!”
I wanted to tell him not to talk about that stuff in public, but something flipped on in my ears. It was like my brain had switched frequencies via radio dial.
Instead of the original conversation, I heard Lathon yelling, “Homework? On a weekend? Are you out of your mind? I ought to tie that rat you call a beard around your neck for all of the respect you have shown me. Do you realize how many headshots I missed out on in Black Ops? Of course you do not, social study teachers do not understand what it means to have talent.”
With that, Lathon walked to Vick’s desk in the back of the class and sat down. Mr. LeCarre made brief eye contact with me and jerked his head to the left, motioning me to have a seat. The class took turns trying to see what had gotten into Vick.
Mr. LeCarre cleared his throat. He said, “I will see Mr. Hoffner and Mr. Quinn after class,” and got up to resume his lessons. I had the hardest time listening to what he was droning about. Removing what Lathon had said about Mr. LeCarre’s crimes would have taken an explosion and an appropriately placed chisel.
Thirty minutes and an awfully boring lesson plan later, the bell rang. I prepared to receive another hall pass to miss the first fifteen minutes of my next class, but the way Mr. LeCarre closed and locked the door did not make me feel like it was going to be a brief encounter.
He looked over at me and then back to Lathon, “Does he know?”
“Know what?” I said.
Lathon giggled, “More than most.”
Mr. LeCarre nodded. He turned his head down towards his feet and raised a finger to the center of his forehead. When he removed it, a hole the size of a bullet took its place. A cloud of smoke seeped out until his body fell to the ground. The smoke particles swarmed around each other until they formed the shape of a man.
Lathon was anxious to return the favor. He poked a similar hole on the top of Vick’s head and came seeping out until he was back in his own Silhouette form. Luckily, Vick didn’t turn into a pile of skin. He held his spot in his desk, but his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. I thought I should check to make sure he hadn’t been turned into a vegetable but I am not sure that there would have been much of a difference.
I was still too freaked out by the fact that if Mr. LeCarre was a Silhouette, who else was one? Coach Cyrus? My bus driver? I just didn’t know anymore.
The two Silhouettes spun around each other, sizing each other up. Lathon was slightly larger than Mr. LeCarre in form. If they were to start fighting, I wasn’t sure what kind of damage they could cause. Would one of them die? Can they die?
Lathon taunted, “What was the plan, LeCarre? Were you going to wait until Reese and Maggie could no longer defend themselves before you murdered their only son?”
LeCarre scoffed, “Murder Alan? If I were trying to do that, I think I would have taken advantage of my countless opportunities, do you not think?”
I said, “Murder? I am Alan. Can I not be included in this conversation?” Naturally, they both ignored me.
Lathon growled, “A pressing opportunity? Like the one where you scarred their family for the rest of their lives?”
The two Silhouettes charged at each other. A range of electric shocks shot off from their fingertips. A few were going to hit me if I had not had the wherewithal to dive under the nearest desk. Vick was not so lucky. His body was thrown against the wall with a loud thud. It still wasn’t enough to wake him, but it could have alerted someone in the nearest classroom.
LeCarre fended off Lathon, “Does it burn less when you blame your mistakes on others?”
A blue spark shot off from LeCarre’s fingertips, hitting Lathon’s shadowy body, making it glow brighter than Peaches did the night before. LeCarre stepped forward like he had planned to apologize, but Lathon let out a loud cackle and forced all of the energy out of his body and through LeCarre who hit his desk, splitting it down the center and sending the sides toward the opposite ends of the classroom.
The left side of the desk ripped a big crack into the nearest window, but, before anything could get anymore out of hand, I ran between the two battling sides. It was definitely against my better judgment. I said, “You two have to stop now. I don’t know what is going on, but whatever it is can not be worth endangering this entire school.”
Lathon put his hands up in surrender, “LeCarre, you know I was never found guilty of the crimes you are accusing me of. If you can believe me, I am here to make up for what happened that day.”
When LeCarre didn’t respond, Lathon started to climb back into Vick. I stopped him, saying, “No more abducting,” and had him fix the room back to its original form before climbing back into my satchel. All of the desks were straightened; ash and debris were cleared from the walls. It was like everything else, he did it with the flick of his wrist..
LeCarre pushed himself up. With the exception of a slight strobe effect, he was unharmed. His human body formed around him like a cocoon encasing a caterpillar, replacing his empty face with his bushy beard. He had turned back in to the teacher and father I had known a month before.
He sat back down at his desk, took a long breath, and said, “I suppose we need to talk.”
The second bell sounded off. Soon after, there was a round of loud knocks on the classroom door. LeCarre raised his voice; “We will be having lunch early today.” There was a pause of silence. A small voice broke it, “Are you serious, Mr. LeCarre?”
LeCarre said, “Very.”
“Uh, Mr. LeCarre, sir? Are you sure? It is only third period.”
“YOU ARE HAVING LASAGNA AND WILL IT BE DELICIOUS.”
The crowd of kids cheered and scampered their way towards the cafeteria. LeCarre turned his attention back to my satchel. He said, “Before we get started, I want to make it perfectly clear that I have nothing to do with the whereabouts of your father or the fate of your mother.”
“My mother?”
LeCarre’s eyebrows creased, “Lathon you said he knew everything.”
The Silhouette poured back out of the bag before I could seal it tight, saying, “I was not completely sure what you meant when you said everything. Everything is an awfully strong word, is it not?”
LeCarre sighed, “Awfully. I do not care about the verdict of your trial, Lathon. Someone told Darius about Maggie and Reese.”
“Told him about what?”
Lathon continued as if I had uttered nonsense, “I personally had the intention of taking our growing boy here to the place he belongs. He decided he rather go to school first and what should we find but a Silhouette that is acting as teacher. So, truthfully, I believe I want to know the real reason you are here.”
My ears perked up.
LeCarre pulled his glasses down to the edge of his nose, revealing the generous man I had come to respect. The few times I had gone to Jessica’s house, I felt like he was my second father or at least a father that was guaranteed to be there when I woke up the next morning. I had never felt safer. I couldn’t bare that all being ripped out from beneath me.
LeCarre cleared his throat, “If you must know, I chose Ashton because there is nothing interesting about it. Up until the Quinns moved into town, it had remained that way. Maggie brought Alan to orientation and I recognized them instantly. Maggie didn’t recognize me, but that was, of course, the first time she had seen me with a face. After that, I suppose I was here to protect Alan from the inevitable appearance of Andrew Lathon.”
I could feel my throat drying up with the thought of it. I strained to get the words out, “Are you trying to tell me my parents are Silho
uettes?”
LeCarre tilted his head at me like the concept couldn’t be so difficult to grasp, “Your father? He has studied the art but he is not full blooded. Your mother is not, but I do not believe it is mine or Lathon’s place to tell you how she ties into all of this.”
He said, “The people that your family brought with you—”
“Dream chasers?” I added.
“Sure. They know exactly what he is and intend to extract it, if anything.”
Lathon slithered out of my bag. I peered at him to see his reaction to all of it, but he had turned his attention to the wall and to the unconscious Vick on the floor, covered in a scar or two from the accident.
I asked, “Why would they want to do that?”
Lathon’s voice missing its energy, he said, “They want to figure out what it takes to kill us. They are also from Draio. They are the ones who locked our species in cages.”
“But, they have been with our family forever.”
Lathon turned back to me, “Let me ask you a question, Alan. Where were you on the last occasion that you saw these humans?”
I thought hard. I closed my eyes and saw Darius, lots of people, and—
The words, “The bookstore,” left my lips and my body seized up. The image of the confrontation with the dream chasers all the way to Darius’ body crumbling into dust before my eyes swam over my brain.
The words fell out of my mouth like a ball of nails, “They killed Darius!”
The Silhouette (Alan Quinn and the Second Lifes) Page 9
