Devil's Pawn

by Levinson, Marilyn

  Maybe all people turned weird by the time they grew up. Though I’d loved my parents and knew they loved Lucy and me, there was something secretive about them. Like they had something to hide. And that was before I knew they’d changed our name from Davenport to Porte and I became Simon instead of Gregory.

  I waved to a woman who jogged by and a neighbor walking his dog, though I had no idea who they were. Not like my old neighborhood, where I’d known everyone who lived up and down the block.

  A skinny old woman came hobbling up the street. She wore a long purple dress that dragged along the ground. Her messy gray hair tumbled halfway down her back.

  I gulped when she stopped inches from me. She was so angry her blue eyes practically gave off sparks. “Beware of the evil one!”

  “Are you talking to me?” I asked.

  She glared at me. “Of course. Who else? Close your mind to him, my boy! Keep him out! We must thwart him and put a stop to his wickedness, once and for all.”

  She took off. “What are you talking about?” I called after her, but the old woman continued on her way.

  I began to shake. I hugged myself, but the tremors wouldn’t stop. She’s just a crazy old lady who escaped the loony bin. Someone’s senile grandmother who doesn’t know what she’s saying. But her words about the evil one threw me into a funk.

  Camp was more hectic than usual because a group of counselors had left to attend Melissa’s funeral. The pounding headache, something I’d never had to deal with before, made it difficult to concentrate on the kids and their water activities. Rick, the waterfront counselor, shouted at me a few times to pay attention to my job. Humiliating, to say the least.

  I did my best not to think about my weird dreams or the old woman and her bizarre warning, but I had no control over the vivid scenes that flashed across my mind. They seemed to be memories—of a car trip out west, a prom date with a girl I was crazy about. They felt like memories, but I had no idea where they came from because they weren’t my memories.

  The counselors returned to camp at noon, so I was able to eat lunch with Andy and Pol during our one free period of the day. We took our food outside to one of the wooden tables.

  “Are you all right?” Pol asked me.

  “I’m fine.”

  I must have answered rougher than I’d meant to because Andy said, “Hey, bro. She only asked because you’re our friend and we care, okay?”

  His words moved me. I was too choked up to speak.

  Andy must have thought I was still pissed, because he said, “We don’t want to pry. We know you went through some pretty bad stuff. Else why would you be living with Uncle Raymond?”

  I punched his arm. “Thanks.”

  Pol set her blue-green eyes on me. “Are we good?”

  “We’re good,” I said.

  And we were. The tension left my shoulders. I took a huge bite of my sandwich. As Andy started to talk, another alien memory filled my head, turning his words into background noise.

  I was driving at night with a friend, excited because I’d just gotten my license. My friend started telling a joke and I took my eyes off the road as a truck barreled toward us from the other direction. Terrified, I swerved and drove into some tall bushes. Weird, because I’d never driven a car.

  Andy shook my arm. “Earth to Simon.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking of something.”

  He thumped his chest. “And I was telling you what happened at the town meeting last night. Remember? You asked me to find out.”

  “Oh, right.”

  He pushed his lips from one side to the other, pretending to consider whether or not to continue.

  “Your uncle managed to rile up practically everyone in town with his new building plans. He and his cronies will make tons of money building condos and the town will lose its playing fields.”

  I forced myself to focus on what Andy was saying. “Back up a bit. What condos? How can he build on land belonging to the town?”

  “It’s not town land,” Pol explained. “It belongs to your family, the Davenports, but was granted to the town for communal use for ninety years. The grant was up two years ago and never renewed.”

  “Because no one thought it was necessary!” Andy shouted. The kids at the next table stared at him. Andy lowered his voice. “It was a given. Kids play soccer and baseball there most of the year.”

  “I can’t see why you’re getting all worked up. You don’t play soccer or baseball,” Pol said.

  Andy looked shocked. “It’s the principle of the thing! Raymond Davenport’s a bloodsucking tyrant. He’ll take away those kids’ playing fields, just to make a couple of million dollars, which I bet he doesn’t need!”

  Pol glared at her twin. “That’s Simon’s uncle you’re talking about.”

  Andy gave me a sheepish smile. “My apologies, Simon.”

  I waved my hand. “Forget it. Can’t the townspeople do anything?”

  “A lawyer’s looking into it,” Pol said. “Dad says they’ll hold a town meeting to discuss it, but not till September, when everyone’s back from vacation.”

  “By then it will be too late,” Andy said mournfully.

  Raymond planned to take away the kids’ playing fields. Something else to hold against my uncle.

  I headed for the pool area to watch over the next period’s group of swimmers. I felt better. My headache was gone and so were the strange scenes that felt like memories. It was as though someone had hosed down my mind, clearing it of cobwebs and weird thoughts. My senses were keen and alert.

  I greeted the group of eight-year-old boys and took charge of the four Rick wanted me to work with. I told them to grab paddle boards and to kick to the far end of the pool. When they got there, one little boy whispered something in his neighbor’s ear.

  “Timmy,” I called to him, “if you have an earache, you shouldn’t be in the pool.”

  Timmy stared up at me, furious at being found out. “Ah, gee, Simon. How could you hear—?”

  “Out!” I ordered. “What did you do with the note your mother sent in?”

  “It’s in my locker.” Tim splashed as he left the pool. “I’ll give it to the nurse.”

  “Make sure you do that.”

  “All right. Now kick back across the pool and we’ll work on your strokes,” I told the others.

  The three boys stared at me goggle-eyed, like I was Spiderman. For the rest of the period they obeyed every instruction I issued without one complaint.

  What’s happening to me? I did my best to suppress the panic rising in my chest.

  I’d been three years old when my extra-keen senses kicked in. Suddenly, I could hear what people down the block were saying. I knew their thoughts, what they were feeling, and it nearly drove me bonkers. I ran around with my hands on my ears, screaming and crying.

  My dad realized something was wrong. When I explained what I was going through as best I could, he taught me how to close myself to extraneous stimuli through concentration and a form of self-hypnosis. It took time, but I mastered the technique until I did it automatically.

  Only today the technique wasn’t working. My hearing was sharper than ever, and the kids’ emotions resounded in my skull like heavy metal music. When the boys went inside to change out of their wet suits, I found a quiet corner in the cafeteria and consciously went through what Dad had taught me all those years ago. I felt calmer. I met the next group of swimmers, and was relieved to discover I’d blocked out their thoughts and feelings, and could concentrate on their lesson.

  But why am I suddenly vulnerable after all these years?

  When the bus dropped me off at the end of the day, the old woman was waiting. This time she didn’t frighten me, probably because she no longer looked angry.

  “Don’t let him win,” she said softly, fixing her blue eyes on mine.

  “You mean my uncle?”

  “Protect yourself from evil.”

  “I will,” I promised, though I had no idea wh
at she was talking about.

  She took off down the block, moving pretty fast for an old lady.

  Suddenly I had lots of questions. “Who are you?” I shouted after her. “How do you know what you know?”

  She turned. “Because I do.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  AUNT MARY WAS in her usual place in the dimly lit family room, watching television at a barely audible volume.

  “Hey, Aunt Mary, how are you?”

  “Fine, dear.” Her voice sounded thick, as if she’d been crying. “Dinner’s at six. Your uncle promised to be home by then.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned back to her program. I stood there, picking up on what she felt—an overwhelming sadness mingled with pity.

  The pity is for me.

  Why pity? Because my family was dead? No, it had to do with something recent. Something that kept her from looking me in the eye.

  I suddenly remembered Andy’s telling me about my uncle’s many business deals. The man was loaded. He could easily afford to hook up my electronic devices.

  A wave of anger swept over me. I diffused it and changed it into iron resolve. I felt strong. Invincible! They’ll give me what I need or else!

  “Aunt Mary.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I need money.”

  “Doesn’t your uncle give you an allowance every week?” she asked.

  I gave a snort. “I’m fifteen years old. I need more than the measly ten dollars he doles out like it’s gold. He knows my camp job doesn’t pay me one smart cent till the end of the summer.”

  “I’m sure your uncle knows what he’s doing.”

  “He knows zip about teenagers. Probably because he has no kids of his own.”

  “Simon!” Aunt Mary gasped, but there was no stopping me.

  “This is the twenty-first century, Aunt Mary. The Age of Electronics, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  How had I lived all these months without my computer, iPod, and smartphone? Letting my uncle keep me on a string of ten dollars a week? Sending me to camp with sandwiches?

  I felt like a bear awakening from his winter hibernation. I felt like roaring.

  “Either he comes across or I’m taking off.”

  That caught her attention. She stared at me, her mouth open. “Don’t say that, Simon. I’ll speak to your uncle.”

  “You’d better,” I muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Wow! Where did that come from? I stretched out on my bed, suddenly too exhausted to wonder about the strange mood swings and thoughts affecting me all day. Minutes later I was sound asleep.

  Aunt Mary woke me for dinner. “You slept so soundly, I was beginning to worry,” she said.

  “I must have been really tired,” I said, hoping that was the reason for my peculiar thoughts and behavior earlier in the day. I felt like me once again as I followed Aunt Mary downstairs.

  Raymond was in high spirits as he brought in the steaks he’d barbecued on the grill. After Aunt Mary served the salad and baked potatoes, he announced he’d made some advantageous contacts regarding his new condo building venture.

  Aunt Mary cleared her throat. “You’re going ahead with your plans to build on the playing fields?”

  “Of course. The land belongs to the Davenports, and I’m a Davenport, my dear.” He stuck a forkful of meat into his mouth and chewed noisily.

  Aunt Mary stared at him. “Don’t you think you should wait until the town meeting in September?”

  “Why? Most of the townspeople want to leave the property as is, but that’s too bad. The grant ended years ago. I can do what I like.”

  “What if she interferes?” Aunt Mary asked.

  Who is “she”? I wondered.

  Raymond laughed. “She’s too gaga to do anything.” He reached across to pat Aunt Mary’s hand. “It will mean more money for us and nice new homes for some people in town.”

  Aunt Mary let out a deep sigh as if she were resigned to Raymond’s plans. He talked enthusiastically about the project. Aunt Mary got caught up in his excitement and began asking questions.

  My uncle winked at me. “I bet you’re surprised your aunt Mary knows so much about construction.”

  I shrugged.

  “She used to work with me. Ran the office when I was out of town.”

  “Why did you stop working?” I asked.

  Neither of them answered. Raymond’s smile disappeared. Older people’s secrets, I thought.

  “We hoped to have a family,” Aunt Mary said. “Turns out things didn’t work out that way.”

  “Until now!” Raymond boomed, reaching over to pat my shoulder. I flinched when he touched a sore spot that had been bothering me all day. The smell of rotting vegetables, though barely noticeable now, made me queasy. How had he recovered almost completely from the illness that had plagued him back in April?

  Since he was in such a good mood, now was the time to hit him with my request.

  “Uncle Raymond, I need a decent allowance. Ten dollars a week doesn’t cut it nohow.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?” he asked in mock surprise.

  I opened my mouth to argue, and closed it again. Arguing would get me nowhere. Raymond frowned, betraying his disappointment that I hadn’t exploded in anger, which he would have slapped down as insubordination.

  He’s testing you, an inner voice explained. Challenging you, yet hoping you’ll win. Then he wins, too.

  What is that all about?

  I drew a deep breath and spoke in a calm and reasonable tone. “I need money for a variety of things. My computer’s still not hooked up. You never did get me a high speed provider as you said you would.”

  “I’ve been busy, son. Besides, it costs.”

  “Not that much, since you already have a computer in the house.”

  “Which is available for you to use.”

  I grimaced. “Sure, as long as you’re in the house and not using it yourself, which isn’t very often. I’ve had my own computer since I was six years old.”

  Raymond’s face flushed with anger. “Maybe that’s how your parents raised you. In this house we do things differently.”

  My parents. I had a flash of insight. “What did you do with my money?”

  Raymond bristled. “What money are you talking about?”

  “The money I inherited from my parents. The money from the sale of my family’s house.”

  “Where do you think it is? Some is in a savings account, the rest is in safe investments. You’ll have it all when you turn twenty-one.”

  I glared at him, and enjoyed the satisfaction of watching him jerk back in his chair. “I’d like some of it now so I can upgrade my computer. And I’ll need a credit card so I don’t have to ask for money every time I want to go to the movies.”

  “You never go to the movies!”

  “Maybe I would if I didn’t have to beg for a handout,” I answered calmly. I had no idea why I was suddenly in control of the situation or what I was about to say next. Only that it would continue until I got what I wanted.

  “Damn it, Simon. This is my house!”

  “Yes, but a judge may see things my way.”

  “What judge? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ll petition the Family Court and tell the judge you’re stingy with my money, and I’m unhappy living here.”

  Raymond’s eyes almost popped out of his head. I had to press my lips together to keep from grinning. He was furious and behind the fury ran a streak of fear. Fear of what? I had no idea.

  “I’ll hand over five hundred dollars of your own damn money, which you can do with as you like! And show you the monthly bank statements to prove I’m not cheating you of one red cent!”

  “I wasn’t doubting your honesty, Uncle Raymond, but from now on I’ll look over the statements every month. It’s time I learned about finances.”

  He glared at me. Slowly, his frown turned into a broad smile. He leaned acros
s the table to pat my arm.

  “You’re going to make a good businessman, Simon. Just like your uncle.” Discussion closed. He was totally pleased with himself as he concentrated on his food.

  I forced myself to do the same. Something was wrong. I’d won the battle. So why was Raymond happy? And it was weird how I now knew which buttons to push when arguing with him. Almost as though I was beginning to think like him.

  A ridiculous thought, but it managed to send chills down my back.

  ***

  I helped clear the table and raced out the door. I ran the eight blocks to Andy and Pol’s house nonstop.

  Mrs. Coltrane greeted me with a smile. “Hi, Simon. Andy’s on his computer, as usual. Pol’s downloading music.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. C.”

  “There are fudge cookies and peach ice cream if you kids get hungry,” Mrs. Coltrane said, returning to her husband and the TV in the den.

  “Great!”

  I bounded up the steep flight of stairs and headed for Andy’s bedroom. The house was smaller and less elegant than my aunt and uncle’s, but it hummed with life and activity.

  “Hey,” I greeted Andy, and collapsed on his rumpled bedspread.

  “Be with you in a minute. I’m downloading this program for one of the kids. Almost done.”

  “Take your time,” I said, and meant it. Being here reminded me of my own home.

  Pol wandered into the room. “I thought I heard you coming up the stairs.”

  Andy spun around on his chair. “Yeah, like a herd of elephants.”

  I reached behind me for Andy’s pillow and tossed it at him. Andy grabbed one of his slippers and threw it at me. It hit a lamp shade.

  “Cut it out!” Pol complained. “You’re acting like a bunch of baboons.”

  “You want to play this great game?” Andy asked me. “I downloaded it last night.”

  “All right.”

  The game was pretty awesome and soon I was too engrossed in it to think of anything else. Knights in a small kingdom battled each other to become leader. Then they united to fight against knights from other small kingdoms. Then they realigned, according to their wins, to fight for control of the central government of the entire country. Each level introduced new weapons the knights could fight with, weapons that required learning and skill.