Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy)

by J. M. Richards

  Throughout my life I’d heard ways to answer this particular problem. But in my experience, those cut and dried, black and white responses didn’t usually make anyone feel better or closer to God, and he’d probably heard them anyway. I didn’t even bother with them. All I said was, “I know. And the truth is, I wonder about that stuff, too.”

  “And here I thought you’d have the answers,” he smiled grimly.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Still figuring stuff out, like everyone else.” I took another bite of my salad and changed the subject back to him. “Anyway, what I really wanted to ask was what your story is.”

  He shrugged and picked at his meatloaf—what was left of it. “Nothing interesting. I grew up near here in the North Hills of Pittsburgh and came here because I got an academic scholarship.”

  I knew instinctively that there was a whole lot more to his story than that, but I simply nodded again. Some stories can’t be pried out of a person; they have to be earned. So I went for a safer question. “Academic scholarship, huh? So, you’re more intellectual than athletic. Interesting.” It was a nosy question, I admit. But now that his trench coat was off, I thought I could discern the outline of a fairly toned body under his dark shirt. It was one of the many seemingly contradictive things about him which made me curious; he wasn’t the only one trying to put a puzzle of a person together.

  “I don’t know if I’d say that. But I kinda gave up on school sports,” he replied. “I tried wrestling and track for a while, but they weren’t for me. I found other athletic outlets outside of school.”

  “Like what?”

  “Um, I did karate, tai kwon do, stuff like that. A lot of martial arts. Last year I started jujitsu.”

  “Jujitsu? Cool.” I grinned admiringly at him. “Isn’t that the discipline Batman likes to use?”

  “Um….” He chuckled dryly. “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “I think so.” I nodded. “Of course, he’s supposed to be an expert on pretty much every martial art there is. Maybe every fighting style? I can’t remember. Something like that.”

  “That certainly would explain why he’s so formidable,” Davin agreed. His brow was wrinkled thoughtfully, but there was a hint of a teasing smile around his mouth.

  I shot him a friendly glare. “Don’t mock, okay?”

  “I’m not mocking! I didn’t say anything.” He was trying hard to hide a smile, which was amazing in itself, since I had never seen him smile about anything before that moment.

  “Then don’t act like it’s strange for me to talk about Batman. Everybody likes Batman, right? I’m not saying he’s my favorite, but he’s pretty cool. I mean, psychologically he’s kind of a mess, but at least he’s trying to help.”

  Something flickered in Davin’s eyes. He leaned forward over his tray. “I can see you feel pretty strongly about this.”

  I swallowed another mouthful and put down my fork. “I mean, it’s not on the same level as world poverty, global climate change or international wars, but yeah, okay, fine. I like to talk about superheroes.” I folded my arms protectively against myself. “If that makes me a weirdo, so be it.”

  “Look who you’re talking to,” he grinned gently. “Around here, I’m practically King of the Weirdos. You’re fine. I just haven’t met many girls who talk about superheroes. Again, you bewilder me.”

  I sighed. “I don’t mean to.”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” he assured me, but there was something else, something unidentifiable in his expression. His dark brown eyes were fixed on my face, making me feel like the center of his attention for one exhilarating, uncomfortable moment. He took a deep breath, looking like he was about to say something—maybe something vital, when It happened for the first time.

  All of the sudden he blinked and sat straight up. He glanced down at his tray, then up at me. “I’m really sorry, Anna, but I’ve got to run.” He stood and began getting his stuff.

  I stared at him. “What? Why? You’re barely done with your lunch.” I looked at the clock. “I-It’s just after twelve thirty.”

  He looked apologetic. “I just can’t stay. There’s something I’ve gotta take care of before my next class.”

  “Oh, okay.” I was surprised at how disappointed I felt, but tried not to show it. I felt like the cliché: Was it something I said?

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. Listen, maybe— y’know….” He hesitated and I looked at him expectantly. Finally, he shot me a sad smile and shook his head. “Well, anyway, it was nice to meet you, Dr. Fisher. Hope I’ll see you around.”

  And he was gone. I stared after him for a moment, baffled and somewhat irritated. What possibly could have been so important that he would rush off in the middle of lunch? I sipped my ice water slowly. I wasn’t even sure what bothered me more: him leaving, or his lack of reason. I was alone then, even though my table was beginning to fill up as more students came in. Suddenly a tray slammed down in front of me and I looked up to see Tiffany.

  “I almost couldn’t find you, way back here,” she said breathlessly. We usually walked from class to lunch together, and ate together, too. She hung her backpack on the back of her chair and sat down. “You have to tell me if I missed anything important in class,” she commanded, “but first, you are not going to believe what I just heard. On the way in, I ran into Lisa’s boyfriend, Nate? Who said that weirdo in the trench coat shoved him in the parking lot for no reason.”

  “Wait, just now?” I frowned. Had Davin left merely to pick a fight? The idea alarmed me.

  “Well, no,” she shook her head and I relaxed, “he said it was like fifteen minutes ago.”

  “In that case, I happen to know there was a reason,” I informed her. “A good one.”

  “It sure didn’t sound like it,” Tiffany insisted. “Well, there was, okay?” I snapped. “I was there.” “You were? Why? What happened? Spill!”

  I sighed. With more patience than I felt, I explained the whole story: that Davin had been saving ungrateful Nate’s life by pushing him out of the way. “He even got scraped by the car, so I gave him a band-aid,” I added.

  “And then you had lunch with him?” she grimaced as I finished.

  I frowned sharply. “What’s wrong with that?” “Well, you know. He’s….”

  “What?” I demanded.

  She shrugged and made a face like she’d smelled something unpleasant. “Weird. Scary.”

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “He’s not scary. And what exactly makes him weird?”

  “He’s a loner. Always by himself. And he dresses badly. He always looks like he’s been out all night, or down in a basement, building a bomb. And he talks to himself all the time.”

  “So what if he likes to be by himself?” I scowled, wondering if she thought the same sorts of things about me. “And who cares how he dresses or looks? I thought we were out of high school.” I wasn’t even going to dignify the bomb-building comment.

  “You know they say he went to jail for stabbing a guy,” she persisted. “Just for sitting in his seat.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. Oh, wonderful. The rumor mill certainly had been productive. “And just who is ‘They?’ Anyone who can actually verify this story?”

  “All I’m saying is, you should be careful,” Tiffany said, completely ignoring my question. “You don’t know anything about him.”

  That’s not true, I wanted to say. I know he’s a realist, he’s okay with being alone, and he helps people when he thinks no one is watching. But of course, I didn’t say any of that. Because despite my protests, Tiffany had a point. Her attitude about Davin might have been petty, shallow and annoying, but there was a kind of objectiveness about it. Granted, she was judging him solely on his outward appearance, like so many classmates I’d known in high school. I wanted to feel smug about the way I’d delved beneath the surface, trying to find out who Davin really was, instead of glancing at the externals, filling in the blanks and putting him in a neat little category. But the unsettling thi
ng about deciding to look deeper at someone is that once you start, there’s really no end. I’d basically plunged headfirst into a bottomless trench. One band-aid, a bit of conversation, and a half-eaten lunch, and I was done for. The worst part was, for all my lofty goals of digging deeper, I had the strange and paradoxical feeling that I actually knew less about him than before.

  Chapter Two

  “Be courteous to all, but intimate with few,

  and let those few be well tried

  before you give them your confidence.

  True friendship is a plant of slow growth.”

  —George Washington

  Over the next few weeks, I barely saw Davin. He continued to skip and come late to class, and often afterward he would dash away before I could even say hi. I knew there was something going on with him, but I didn’t know what, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was my business. We hadn’t exactly become BFFs after our one afternoon together.

  I was friendly, waving or smiling at him if he happened to glance my way and meet my gaze. But I didn’t go out of my way to be near him or talk to him. After all, he was the one who’d abandoned me during lunch. For all I knew, he was avoiding me. In the absence of any explanation, I tended to assume things were my fault. Perhaps I’d asked too many questions, or maybe he really did prefer to be alone.

  One day, after he earned another “absent” in World Civ, I came across Davin sitting on the lawn outside the library. He was staring off into space with a half-eaten sandwich in his lap. I hesitated; he hadn’t seen me, so I could have just walked away and left him alone. But he was wearing that sad and lost look on his face that had tugged on my stupid sympathies several times already.

  Don’t get involved, a voice inside me said. Didn’t he already admit that he’s a mess? You can’t fix him. But I didn’t want to fix him, exactly. I wanted to be a friend. Maybe he was in a bad place, but he’d still gone out of his way to keep a random guy from getting hit by a car. So he wasn’t entirely a lost cause. I had to believe that meant there was more to him than his troubles.

  I plucked up my courage, walked over, and sat down next to him. “You missed a killer lecture today,” I announced.

  He looked at me in surprise. “What?” He blinked several times, as though I’d truly startled him.

  “World Civilizations, room 203, Dr. Howard, Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays from eleven am to noon, any of that ring a bell?” I teased.

  He sighed. “Right. Is he mad I keep skipping?”

  “Who, Howard?” I shrugged. “I can’t tell if he even notices. But I’m not sure it’s doing your grade point average any good.”

  He set his bag lunch aside. “Thanks for the tip, Dr. Fisher.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you don’t remember my first name, just say so.”

  Davin frowned slightly. “What makes you think I don’t remember your name, Anna?” When I didn’t respond or meet his gaze he nodded knowingly. “This is because I ran out on you the other day, right?” I looked over at him, watching his face as he seemed to struggle with himself for his next few words. He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I seemed rude by taking off—it honestly had nothing to do with you. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Hey, that’s okay,” I said hastily. “No big deal.”

  “Good. Because I was actually enjoying our conversation.”

  “Oh.” I looked away. “Me, too.”

  “That being said,” he went on, “I’m not exactly good company right now.”

  “That’s why I came over, actually,” I said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He gave a dry chuckle and sighed. “Is it that obvious that I’m not?”

  I took a deep breath—once again, plunging into unknown depths. “Look, Davin, you don’t have to tell me anything. I know it’s not like we’re super close…but I just figured maybe you’d want to talk about it. Or not talk about it at all, in which case you might be glad of someone to take your mind off whatever is troubling you.”

  He looked over at me with that same slightly puzzled expression he’d worn throughout our first encounter. “Those are both kind and generous offers.”

  “But?” I prompted, sensing his hesitation.

  There was such a long pause that I thought maybe he really didn’t want to talk about it, and I ought to just leave. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he sighed. “But I did try to give you fair warning. I really am kind of a mess. My head…my life right now…things aren’t going well for me. I’m not saying that to be mysterious and intriguing. I’m just being honest. I know that’s why other people talk about me, avoid me. And I don’t blame them. I just kind of live my own life.”

  “That sounds lonely,” I commented.

  He looked over at me. “It is,” he admitted softly. “But…it’s kind of the way it has to be.”

  “That’s rather fatalistic,” I said. “I mean, geez, even Batman had Robin.”

  He looked at me sharply. “Again with the Batman references? What is it with you?”

  I shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m so used to using superheroes as examples. I was just trying to say, he’s kind of a loner, too. But even he leaned on a few people now and then. Robin. Alfred. Commissioner Gordon. Occasionally Batgirl or Catwoman.”

  “So…you’re saying I shouldn’t always hide myself in the Batcave,” he replied slowly.

  I grinned. “Yeah! You got it.”

  He tried to smile, then. “I know you’re probably right, but that’s a lot easier said than done. It would help if I knew who my Alfreds, Robins, and Gordons were.”

  “Can’t help you there, but if you’re looking for a Batgirl, I’m in,” I teased. “I always thought she was the coolest, anyway.”

  “She probably was.” He glanced at me. “I do get what you’re really saying, Anna, and I appreciate it.” He stood and shouldered his back pack. “Sorry to run out on you again…I just….”

  “Oh, right. No problem. Just, you know, anytime you need to talk, let me know. I mean it. Just call me Barbara Gordon.”

  He looked at me rather keenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Okay. Well, see ya around, Davin.” He turned to leave and I watched him. Guys had always somewhat mystified me, but this guy…I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure out.

  Back in my room, my roommate was watching TV— the news. I made a face she luckily didn’t see. I hated watching the news because it was boring and depressing. I knew it was important to be informed about things that were going on in the world, but it seemed like news shows mostly focused on the negative things. Nicki, however, was taking a class that required her to keep up with current events.

  “Anything interesting going on in the world?” I asked during a commercial break.

  “Always,” she said curtly. We didn’t talk much. She recited a list of events which I mostly didn’t pay much attention to because I was busy looking for my sticky-tac—a putty-like substance that was the only thing approved for hanging pictures on the dorm walls (as opposed to nails and tacks, which left holes, and tape, which left sticky residue). She told me about local and national kidnappings, murders, bombings, huge natural disasters, political scandals…the same tragedies—products of our fallen nature, my parents would say—that happened every day. Just as I suspected: a show devoted entirely to the ways humanity was failing.

  “Oh, and this should be right up your alley,” she added.

  “What’s that?” I asked, fixing a poster of mine that had fallen down with the afore-mentioned sticky-tac.

  “There are some rumors going around that there’s a guy like, saving people and stuff.”

  I leaned back and squinted. Was Spider-Man crooked? I adjusted the corner. “Oh, yeah?” That was better.

  “Yeah. I mean, it’s probably all just a prank, but apparently there’s someone out there who likes superheroes even more than you.”

  I considered this. “Is this person really helping people?”

  �
�Supposedly. They say this guy dressed in black might have stopped a couple of robberies. I mean, it’s completely unconfirmed. There aren’t even any actual, reliable witnesses.”

  I just nodded. “Interesting.” Since I hadn’t seen the report, I wasn’t entirely sure I believed Nicki. It sounded like the kind of thing she might say just to lead me on. I knew she thought my posters of my favorite superheroes were juvenile, but dang it, I was going to hang up what I wanted on my side of the room. It wasn’t as though the magazine pullouts of boy bands and teen heartthrobs on her side were so much more mature.

  It wasn’t until later, when I was in bed and trying to sleep that I really thought about it. What kind of person would make up a story about a guy going around saving people? And if it wasn’t just a hoax, who on earth would go around acting like a superhero? It was crazy.

  

  The night it all really started, I was shopping. Tiffany and her suitemate Misty (a very incongruent name for a brash and bossy sophomore) offered me a ride to Wal-Mart and I took them up on it. On our way to the main gate, I spotted Davin jogging on the side of the road. “Stop the car!” I said. Misty slammed on the brakes so hard I hit my head on the back of Tiffany’s seat.

  “What the crap, Anna?” Misty demanded.

  “Sorry,” I stammered, slightly dazed. “I meant, pull over and stop next to that guy.”

  “Oh, not him again,” Tiffany groaned. I glared at her fiercely.

  Misty gave me an impatient look over her shoulder. “We’re on our way to the store. You can flirt later.” She glanced at him with a dubious expression. “Though you need to work on your taste—that guy has creeper written all over him.”

  “He’s not like that,” I assured her. “Come on, guys, let’s just see if he needs to go to Wal-Mart, too. I mean, we’re already going.” They looked at each other, then back at my pleading face.