by Martha Wells
Blade Singer
Aaron de Orive & Martha Wells
Dedication
Dedicated to Blythe and Elena, two faerie queens without equal.
Chapter One
Manny Boreaux's gaze darted back and forth between the three large boys advancing on him. They had spaced themselves out pretty well. Given his small, wiry frame, they probably figured he could move quickly when he wanted to. Guess it had to happen sooner or later, Manny thought. These boys had been all over him from the moment he had walked into his homeroom class at his new school. Junior high was supposed to be hard enough without adding a trio of bullies eager for fresh meat. They were big but Manny didn't think they looked particularly bright.
The boys must have been lying in wait behind the dumpster. The teachers would all be at the front entrance, shepherding the younger kids onto their buses, so there wouldn't be any witnesses or help for Manny.
"Give it back. I know you stole it, you dirty thief!" Gregory, the leader of the pack, was the biggest seventh grader Manny had ever seen. His huge ears and stooped shoulders made him look like an ape. That was why most of the kids called him El Chango, the Monkey. Just not to his face, unless they wanted to get hurt.
"They searched my locker and my backpack," Manny said, exasperated. "I don't have your stupid game, okay?"
The trio had backed him up to the chain link fence that surrounded the dusty gravel lot. Manny's fingers curled around the sun-warmed metal links. He shot a glance up at the six foot fence. As fast as he was, he'd never be able to scramble over the top before one of the bullies got their hands on him. And if his pants caught on the loose links at the top, it would all be over.
"You're a stinking liar!" said Gregory. The idea that somebody had actually stolen from him, like he stole from the smaller weaker kids, had obviously made him furious. "You probably just hid it somewhere so you could get it later. Now hand it over and I won't beat the hell out of you!"
Manny knew Gregory would beat him up either way. He probably lives for that sort of thing. "Just go cry to your daddy," Manny said, making his voice deliberately nasty. "I'm sure he'll buy you a new one. He wouldn't want his precious little boy to be sad and cry."
"At least I have a dad, jerkbutt!" Gregory sneered. "You gotta settle for whatever lowlife drunk your crazy aunt drags home."
Manny gritted his teeth, his ears burning like they always did when he wanted to hit something. He knew he'd get quite a beating from Gregory and his knuckle-dragging monkey-boys if he fought back. But seriously, what kind of insult was "jerkbutt" anyway? "Shut up, Gregory," Manny said, though his voice came out rough from holding back his anger. "Just leave me alone."
Gregory laughed and smacked his friends on their chests. "He's so easy." His minions cackled like hyenas while Gregory's smirk grew into a twisted smile.
Well, maybe Manny could try hitting something...
Using the fence as a springboard, Manny launched himself at Gregory. He hit the larger boy square in the stomach with his shoulder, and knocked him flat. Gregory landed hard on his back with Manny on top. The monkey-boys stood there stunned for a few seconds, then lunged forward at Manny. But Manny rolled over Gregory and shoved to his feet.
Manny sprinted for the open gate, gravel crunching under his feet. He grabbed the fence and slid on the gravel, swiveling onto the street. He had run only a few yards when he heard the horn honk. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a familiar blue tow truck with black lettering on its side that said Gutierrez & Sons.
Beto! Thank God! Manny slowed to a jog.
The truck pulled alongside him and stopped. Beto, wearing his usual dirty cap and oil-stained overalls, frowned at Manny. "Where you going in such a hurry?"
Manny yanked the truck door open and hopped inside. Beto continued to study him, sucking his teeth. Of his aunt's recent boyfriends, Beto was definitely Manny's favorite. He never seemed to mind having Manny around, and he knew more about cool cars and motorcycles than anyone else.
"What's up, jefe?" Beto asked. He always called Manny "boss," another point in his favor.
A look out the window toward the vacant lot confirmed that Gregory and his friends had disappeared. "Nothing." Manny relaxed back on the worn vinyl seat. "I thought Tia Licha was picking me up. Is she okay?"
"She's fine, jefe," said Beto. "She had a last minute customer and had to stay late. She called me to come get you. But from the sound of her voice, you better be glad she didn't come. Do I even want to know?"
Manny slipped out of his backpack and dropped it on the seat next to him. "No, not really." He reached for his seatbelt, then frowned at Beto when he noticed he wasn't wearing his. "Uh, forget something?"
"Oh, right, sorry!" Beto fumbled for the belt and buckled in. Satisfied, Manny settled into his seat.
Beto merged back into the traffic. "Gotta pick up a car and drop it off at the shop. I'm late, so you're coming with me. I'll let you off at the corner as usual. Cool?"
"Sure, okay." Manny looked out the window. This was an old neighborhood, with big brick houses and yards with summer-dry oak trees and yellowing grass. It shouldn't be this hot so early, even for Austin, but there had been a drought all Spring.
He liked it when Beto let him ride along in the tow truck. He'd picture himself as an FBI agent impounding some dangerous criminal's vehicle, one that always ended up having a stash of weapons in the trunk. He knew Beto could get in trouble with Old Man Gutierrez for letting him ride in the truck during work hours. That's why he always got dropped off at the corner.
"After that, we can pick up dinner and wait for your tia to get home," Beto said. "And it better be something she loves because we need to get her in a good mood."
"Pizza?" Manny said, though he didn't think Beto would go for it. Never hurt to try, though.
"Something Licha loves, jefe. And it's gotta go good with margaritas. I'm making a pitcher when we get to the house." Beto winked. "Ammunition."
"Easy. Chicken mole," said Manny.
"Órale, now you're talking." Distant thunder rumbled and Beto squinted up at the sky. There were patches of gray clouds building to the south, a dark contrast against the hot blue afternoon sky. "We could sure use some rain."
Manny unzipped his backpack and pulled out Gregory's Sony Vita. He stared at the dark screen. Gregory had been right — Manny had stashed the game in the boys’ bathroom until it was safe to retrieve it. That jerk deserved it, thought Manny. He stole from other kids, he deserved the same to happen to him. The tiny Vita screen flashed as he powered it on.
"Nice toy, jefe." Beto glanced at the game. "Where'd you get it?"
"A friend gave it to me." Manny kept his eyes on the screen, worried Beto would sense the lie if he looked at him. "He got a new one."
Beto whistled. "Good to have friends like that."
"You're telling me," muttered Manny, punching buttons. He was determined to enjoy Chango's little toy.
****
Sitting at the kitchen table, Manny kept stealing glances at his aunt. The chicken mole hadn't cheered her up. In fact, Licha hadn't eaten very much at all. The phone call from Principal Ortiz had made for a quiet, uncomfortable dinner, and she was watching Manny intently between sips of her margarita. Even Beto's attempts to dance with her in the kitchen while the food was heating in the microwave hadn't resulted in a single smile.
And to make matters worse, her hair was now red. She was a stylist at a hair salon, and changed her hair color whenever she was stressed out about something, like a bad breakup with a boyfriend. But Beto was sitting right there, so that left only one other person who might be responsible for it.
Way to ruin dinner, dork, Manny cursed himself silently. He didn't like making his aunt upset, but it just seemed to turn out t
hat way a lot lately.
Dinner used to be Manny's favorite part of the day. As far back as he could remember, family dinners had been fun, full of stories and laughter. One of Manny's favorite memories was of helping his dad make his famous gumbo. Passing on the family recipe had been a big deal and his dad had sworn Manny to secrecy. His mom had watched the entire affair with a big smile.
But that seemed like a long time ago and his parents were gone, lost in a terrible wreckage of twisted metal. Manny had moved in with his aunt just after the accident, almost six months ago. Things had been okay at first, even though Manny knew he had been hard to live with. He would go from furiously angry to so depressed he didn't want to get out of bed, and he couldn't seem to control it.
He had barely made it through his last year of middle school, and had almost been forced to repeat the sixth grade, which would have been a nightmare. At first, his aunt had said nothing. But when his grades had gotten worse and his fights more frequent, she'd asked him if he wanted to talk about it. But what could Manny say that would make any difference? No amount of talking could change what had happened. He knew his aunt was hoping that a new school would be a chance to get back on the right track, but it wasn't turning out that way.
Licha set her glass down. "What are we gonna do, mijo?"
Manny had been stirring the rice on his plate with a fork for the last fifteen minutes. He hadn't eaten much either. He kept his eyes downcast, too embarrassed to look his aunt in the eye. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Did you take that boy's game?" Licha asked.
Manny shot a quick glance at Beto. He didn't know if Beto had told Licha about the game Manny had been playing in the truck. Beto was leaning back in his chair, enjoying his beer and listening to the music playing on the stereo. His eyes were closed. Beto had been to prison once, years ago when he was barely out of high school, for stealing a car. But he hadn't done anything since then. You're no help, Manny thought.
"I asked you a question, Manny. Did you take it?" Licha's tone made it clear she expected an answer and fast.
Manny chewed his lip, then shook his head. "No, I didn't take it." He knew the hesitation just made him look more guilty. Because you are guilty, he reminded himself.
"And that's the truth? You better not be lying to me, Manny." Licha's voice was tight with anger.
Manny glanced again at Beto, who had opened his eyes and was now looking straight at him. Beto's face betrayed no emotion, no hint of what he was thinking. As if he was just going to sit there and let Manny make his own mistakes. Manny looked at his aunt and said, "Yes, that's the truth." His stomach was churning as he waited for Beto to call him on it, but Beto said nothing. Manny felt even worse, like he had made Beto a liar, too.
"And what about you skipping class and fighting with the other boys?" said Licha.
"I don't do that!" Distracted, Manny protested it a bit too quickly.
"Which part?" Licha looked skeptical. "The skipping or the fighting?"
"It's that idiot Gregory. He hates me for some reason. He's just bored, I guess." Manny grimaced. He sounded whiny even to himself. And Gregory really was a bully; someone just needed to cut him down to size. And there's a whole lot there to cut, too.
"Mijo, this principal doesn't know you like the old one. She didn't sound very sympathetic. And you're not like this, Manny. You're a really smart kid." Licha rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache.
Given that he'd only been at his new school for a few months, Manny had been called into the principal's office a lot, but he had ignored most of the warnings. He just found it difficult to care about all the stuff the school insisted he care about. He remembered when school had been fun more often than not, but it was like remembering something that had happened to somebody else, in another lifetime.
"I want you to talk to Father Diego," said Licha, breaking his train of thought.
Manny sighed. "Tia, I don't wanna talk to him..."
"Why not?" Licha held her hands out in appeal. "He knows this has been a hard time for us. Maybe he can help you. What would it hurt just to talk?"
The truth was that Father Diego was pretty cool. Everyone seemed to like him. Manny thought he had a great voice, really deep for such a small guy. His aunt called him Father Antonio Banderas. But Manny just didn't want to talk about it to anybody.
Manny slumped in his chair, picking at a worn spot on the wooden table top. "Why do I have to talk about it, Tia?" Licha had told him how she had talked to the old priest who used to be at the church, a long time ago when Manny's grandmother had died, and how it had helped her. But he still didn't see the point of it.
"Well, for one thing," Licha replied, her brow furrowed in worry, "you don't seem to think that your mom and dad are really gone. That's not good, mijo."
"They are gone. I've told everybody that." Manny felt his ears burning. He really didn't want to talk about this. He would rather admit to stealing the game than talk about this.
Licha shifted her chair over to put her arm around Manny. "Mijo, you tell everyone that they've gone away, not that they're dead." Her voice was quiet and serious. "I know it's painful. I miss them too."
Manny looked away, biting his lip until it hurt. "I know they're dead," he said, and it was like the words were forced out of him. "I'm not stupid." Outside the dining room windows, he could see distant flashes of lightning. It was like the weather was just as upset as he was.
Licha sighed and looked over at Beto for help. He studied both of them, his face creased in worry. "What difference does it make what he thinks, Licha? He just needs more time." He drained his beer, then set the bottle on the table. "We should plan a trip down to the Alamo. Maybe go see a Spurs game."
Licha watched Manny. "Well, I've already invited Father Diego over for coffee tomorrow. You only need to talk to him for a few minutes."
Manny pulled away from his aunt. "Why did you do that? I didn't say I'd talk to him!"
"It's for your own good, Manny," Licha said firmly. "Talk for a just few minutes and we'll all go to the River Walk next weekend. Deal?"
Manny threw his fork down. "No! No deal! I can't believe you did that, Tia!" He pushed away from the table and stormed into the kitchen. "I'm not going to talk to anybody!" he yelled over his shoulder.
Licha got up and went after him. "Manny, get back here. I'm talking to you. Sit back down here!" But Manny had already marched through the living room and down the hall toward his room. He slammed the door once he got inside, locked it and pressed his back against it.
Licha knocked so hard he could feel the vibration through the door. "Father Diego comes tomorrow at ten, Manny!" Her voice was muffled, but Manny could tell how mad she was. "And I expect you to talk to him when he gets here! Do you understand me? I've tried to be patient but that's not working!"
Manny heard Beto gently try to coax his aunt back to the dining room. Then he heard Licha crying. Her voice thick with tears, she said, "I miss them, too, Beto, so much. I have to do something to help him."
"I know, chulita, I know," Manny heard Beto murmur.
Manny winced and slid to the floor. He knew he wasn't the only one who was hurting, and he knew the way he was acting was just making it worse for Licha.
He knew all that. But he couldn't seem to make himself do anything about it.
Chapter Two
Manny didn't get much sleep that night, and was awake when the dawn light first started to show gray behind his window blinds. Thunder still rumbled occasionally in the distance, but when he opened the blinds, it didn't look like it had rained yet.
The rest of the house was still silent when he got up, went to the bathroom and got dressed. He wandered back to his room and sat down on the bed. It was Saturday morning, and he could do anything he wanted. But with the threat of Father Diego's visit looming over him, it was hard to think of anything else.
Trying to distract himself, he picked up the framed photo of his parents propped on his bedside table
. After the accident, it had taken a long time for him to be able to look at it again. It had just hurt too much.
They were hugging, cheek to cheek, wide smiles on their faces. They were like night and day sharing an embrace. His father's blond hair and pale eyes contrasted with his mother's black hair and dark eyes. His aunt had called them "El Sol y La Luna," the Sun and the Moon. It fit them perfectly.
There was a painful tightening in his throat and an ache in his chest, and his eyes stung with tears. How could they be dead? Horrible things like that just didn't happen. What if they had gone somewhere and were waiting for him? He hadn't seen their bodies in the closed coffins. What if they were empty? What if someone just didn't want to tell him the truth? Part of him knew those thoughts didn't make sense, but he had stopped listening to that part months ago.
And there was no way he was talking to Father Diego.
He got his shoes on and grabbed his backpack, opened the window and climbed out into the backyard. The air smelled dusty and electric, like it might pour down rain at any moment, and heavy gray clouds filled the sky. An old oak tree shaded the yard, making the grass sparse even when it rained enough for it to grow, and helpfully blocked Manny from view if anybody looked out the windows in the neighbors’ houses. A dog barked somewhere when he reached the chain-link fence, but he climbed over it and hurried down the empty gravel driveway of the house behind theirs, then he was out on the street.
He walked, with no clear idea of where he was going. He just knew he wanted to go.
****
Manny had been wandering for a few hours when he ended up at the old strip mall.
It was a quiet morning. He had watched part of a junior league soccer game at the park, and scraped together enough quarters from his backpack and his pockets to pay for a breakfast taco from the tamale van. It was past ten o'clock, so he figured he had at least a couple more hours to go before Father Diego would leave and he could safely head for home. Tia Licha would probably kill him, but then he probably deserved it.
