IA_B.O.S.S.

by John Darryl Winston

  “Harvis is leavin’ us for greener pastures. Next year he’ll be an International Academy … what’s their mascot?” Soul looked at Harvis.

  Harvis shrugged as he continued to look down.

  “True story?” asked Naz. “That’s where Meri’s goin’. When did you take the test?”

  “I didn’t have to,” said Harvis. “The General … I mean, my dad pulled some strings.”

  “Well you don’t sound too happy about it,” said Naz.

  “Tell ’im you ain’t goin’,” said Ham.

  “You don’t know the General,” said Soul.

  “Isn’t that outside the Exclave?” asked Ham.

  “Yeah, an hour and a half ride on the Helix,” volunteered Naz.

  “So how you gonna do that every day?” asked Ham.

  “The General lives in the suburbs, close to International Academy,” said Harvis.

  “So why did you go to Lincoln in the first place?” Naz asked.

  “The General wanted to toughen the Wordsmith up … as if he isn’t tough enough already,” Soul cut in. “As a favor to the General, Coach lets Harvis live with him on school days during the school year. Harvis goes home on the weekends … if the General’s in town. Harvis goes to International Academy for three months in the summer. That’s why he’s smarter than the rest of us,” Soul ended sarcastically.

  “But that’s a good thing, right … to be outta this place?” asked Naz.

  “After you’ve been here for a while this place kinda grows on you,” said Soul.

  Harvis nodded as he kicked a can in front of MeeChi’s.

  “Yeah, like mold,” added Naz.

  “Man, you guys are crazy. This is the best place to be in the whole world … cuz it’s real,” said Ham.

  “Whatever, man, I ain’t got no love for this place,” said Soul. “But I guess it is home … for now. Well, it is good that Coach finally decided to take that job at Union. You know they offered him that job every year, and every year, he turned it down … until now.”

  “That’s because we’re goin’ to Union next year,” beamed Ham.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” said Soul. “Truth be told, he had to leave Lincoln. They gave him a choice: either quit or be fired.”

  “I don’t believe that,” said Ham. “Not Coach, he’s never had a losin’ season at Lincoln … and he’s everybody’s favorite teacher, including the teachers.”

  “All true,” confirmed Soul.

  “Then why would they want ’im out?” Naz pulled a candy bar from his pocket.

  Soul started. “Well, I heard … that day Artie committed suicide—”

  “He was …” murdered, Naz thought. Better not to say the word in Ham’s presence.

  “What?” asked Soul.

  “Nothing,” answered Naz quickly.

  “Anyway, like I was saying, Sherlock Holmes,” continued Soul looking at Naz with a raised eyebrow. “The day Artie committed suicide, someone left the door leading to the swimming pool unlocked. There were only two keys. Coach had one and the building engineer had the other. The problem was, the building engineer had been on vacation for two weeks, and he didn’t leave his key with anybody because he knew Coach had one.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” asked Ham, wary.

  “I got my sources.” Soul patted himself on the chest.

  “Well, couldn’t the engineer have left it unlocked before he went on vacation?” Naz tore the wrapper off the top of the candy bar.

  “They say the school actually shut the pool down a week after the engineer had left for vacation. Supposedly, Coach was told to make sure the room was locked … and stayed locked. When they found Artie that day, the lock wasn’t broken, it had been unlocked from the outside with a key.”

  “Coach didn’t unlock that door,” said Harvis.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m on Coach’s side,” said Soul.

  “Coach must’ve left the door unlocked accidentally,” said Ham.

  “Coach didn’t leave the door unlocked, either.” Harvis looked at Ham.

  “OK, man … I’m just sayin’.” Ham put his hands up.

  Naz didn’t know Fears like the other boys. But from what he knew of Fears, Harvis, and Soul, he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But he thought it funny Ham was willing to throw Fears under the bus after Fears did nothing but support and stick up for Ham—no wonder Fears was in such a bad mood after Artie was killed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Soul, “If they liked Coach at Lincoln, they’re gonna love ’im at Union. Coach is a legend at Union. He was a four-year starter. He holds the record for most points scored in a game, most points scored in a season, and … he’s the all-time leading scorer in the school’s history. They won two state championships when he was there and one of those years, Union was the number two ranked high school team in the country.”

  “I’m gonna break all those records when I get there,” said Ham.

  “In your dreams.” Soul shook his head.

  “Coach said he was injured. What happened?” Naz took a bite of his candy bar.

  “Nobody knows,” answered Soul.

  “That’s something he won’t talk about,” added Harvis.

  “Yeah, about the only thing.” Ham laughed

  “Look who’s talking … and always talking,” countered Soul.

  Naz had told Mr. Tesla he would be bringing by some of his teammates after school, so when the foursome walked into MeeChi’s, Mr. Tesla was already on his way down from the booth to meet them. As introductions were being made, Tone made his usual entrance from high above, complete with sound effects.

  “Never fear; Naz is here. Never fear; Naz is here,” said Tone.

  Soul let out a high-pitched squeal and ducked down as if under attack, causing everyone to laugh hysterically, Harvis louder than Naz had ever heard him. Soul knocked down a product display while attempting to get away. Tone landed on Naz’s forearm and shuffled to his shoulder.

  “OK, that’s real funny. I hate birds.” Soul shook Mr. Tesla’s hand.

  Tone made a laughing sound.

  “Tone’s not a bird,” said Naz. “He’s actually my crime-fighting sidekick in disguise.”

  Naz handed Tone a piece of his candy bar as Tone continued making a laughing sound.

  “It looks like you’re scared of ’em to me,” said Harvis as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “Please, I ain’t scared of nothin’,” said Soul.

  “Well come a little closer,” said Naz playfully. “And say hello to my little friend,” he continued in best Al Pacino impression.

  “I’m good right here,” said Soul as he waved at the African Grey from a distance.

  “How’d that key work, young man?” asked Mr. Tesla.

  “Perfect, sir,” answered Ham.

  Key, what key? How does Mr. Tesla know Ham? As Mr. Tesla continued to question the boys about their winning season and school at Lincoln, Naz shrunk back into his own world deep inside his mind.

  “I think we have a good chance if we can keep our swing man here from getting suspended during playoffs, sir.” Harvis shook Mr. Tesla’s hand.

  “Yeah, Tin Man,” said Soul. “Last year I was the hothead, always the one in trouble; now it’s you. I guess someone’s gotta be the bad boy, huh?”

  Naz wasn’t listening to a word they were saying.

  “Hey … Sam-I-don’t-remember-who-I-am,” called Ham, nudging Naz.

  “Huh?” responded a distracted Naz. “Umm … excuse me. I’ve had to go to the bathroom since we left school.” He put Tone on his perch and headed for the booth. He had to get away from everyone to think.

  In the booth, Naz looked down through the two-way mirror—what key? How did Mr. Tesla know Ham? Naz had only ever talked about Ham, never brought him in the store. If it wasn’t for that first basketball game Mr. Tesla came to, he wouldn’t even know what Ham looked like—unless … unless Ham’s been in here since
the game.

  It could be nothing. Ham lived close enough to MeeChi’s that he might have come in the market from time to time, any time really, especially since he knew Naz worked there—here I go again, being paranoid and jumping to conclusions. But he had to know.

  “Mr. Tesla,” Naz called from the stairs of the booth. “Can I see you for a minute?”

  Mr. Tesla hurried to the booth.

  Naz asked Mr. Tesla apprehensively, “What did you mean when you asked my friend about a key?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason.” Naz knew Mr. Tesla would see right through him; he had fully adopted the “dad” persona.

  “Not again, Naz—”

  “Please, Mr. Tesla, don’t; I have to know.”

  “Very well. The little one came in here a while ago, wanting a key made … nothing special.” Mr. Tesla sighed heavily.

  “When?”

  “A while ago, I don’t remember exactly.”

  “Was it a weekend?”

  “Let me think.”

  Naz grew impatient. “Come on, Mr. Tesla; this is important.”

  “No, no, it was during the week, right after school one day. I remember because that’s when all the other kids come in for junk food … right after school. Why?”

  “Had you ever seen him before … the little one … Ham?”

  “No, but I remember recognizing him at the game from having come in the store, so it had to have been before the game. I never forget a face.”

  “OK, Mr. Tesla, now this is important; where was I?”

  “What do you mean? How would I know?”

  “I mean, was I out on runs?”

  “No, you hadn’t come in yet: you were at basketball practice, I guess, right?”

  “Right,” said Naz as the picture began to come into focus. “And he should have been, too. That’s it! Thank you, Mr. Tesla,”

  “For what? Naz, what’s this all about now?”

  “Justice, Mr. Tesla, out of his own mouth. Innocent people die because people don’t like to make tough choices. Somebody’s got to do something,” he said as he made his way out of the booth.

  “He’s at it again,” mumbled Mr. Tesla as he followed Naz out.

  Naz was reenergized—it’s time to put some hustle behind this one hundred and sixty five point IQ muscle. What good was being a genius if you couldn’t apply it in the real world—make a difference? Knowing all the answers in school was easy, but when it came to people, it was different—they’re so unpredictable, or are they? It would be a lot easier if he could read minds like Dr. Gwen hypothesized and Meri hoped. He could just read Ham and Roffio’s thoughts and know exactly what happened—but what good would that do? He was smart enough to know that would never stand up in court, that he read their minds. Who in their right mind would believe that? He needed witnesses to a full confession. Maybe Soul and Harvis could be those witnesses—now I’m thinking. It was worth a try.

  But he had to be careful; it was clear everyone was aware of his recent detective pursuits as evidenced by Soul’s Sherlock Holmes remark. If he started questioning Ham in any way, they’d all be on to him, and it would blow up in his face. That’s it. I’ll use Harvis and Soul. They’ll ask the questions, and I’ll get the answers.

  When they left MeeChi’s, with a much needed and rare day off from Fears’ grueling practices, they still had some time to kill before they had to disperse and attend to their respective responsibilities.

  As they stood in front of MeeChi’s, Naz suggested, “We should all get Railsplitter tattoos on our arms.”

  Harvis shook his head.

  “I hear those things hurt.” Soul looked at Ham’s tattoo.

  “Man, you guys are soft,” accused Ham.

  “I’m game, but we all have to agree,” bluffed Naz, all the while looking at Soul—ask the question, ask the question.

  “How long did it take?” asked Soul, looking at Ham’s tattoo, as if he were considering it.

  It’s working.

  Harvis continued to shake his head.

  “It only took an hour, and it didn’t hurt.” Ham made a muscle with his tattooed arm.

  Ask the question. Ask the question.

  “What is that mess anyway?” Soul pointed to Ham’s tattoo.

  Perfect. Naz did his best to look down the street the other way, as if he were disinterested.

  “It’s a snake, a sword and an all-seeing eye,” said Ham.

  An all-seeing eye.

  “It looks like the letters I and A to me,” said Soul.

  “That’s right,” said Ham.

  “What does it mean?” asked Soul.

  “It’s a brotherhood,” said Ham with pride.

  “It’s a gang,” Harvis corrected. “Another gang for the mindless minions of Marshal Park.”

  “Ouch!” said Soul.

  “We’re not a gang, we’re a brotherhood. We look out for each other.” Ham raised his voice.

  “Your teammates look out for you,” Harvis shot back. “That…” He pointed to the tattoo on Ham’s arm, then just shook his head.

  Harvis had riled Ham up a bit and Soul always sided with Harvis, so Naz thought it the perfect diversion to jump into the fray.

  “I’m with Ham; you guys are soft,” said Naz as he walked over to Ham, almost executing the latest handshake. “I didn’t know you knew Mr. Tesla, Ham.”

  Harvis looked at Naz and Ham with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I run these streets. I know everybody,” bragged Ham.

  “Oh yeah, he made a key for you … or somethin’ like that, right?” Naz asked as he turned his head and grimaced. What he said felt awkward. He knew he may have crossed the line, and Ham might catch on.

  “A key … a key to what?” asked Soul. “Who’d trust you with a key to anything?” Soul laughed.

  Between Ham going on about his street credibility and Soul’s well-timed save, Naz was sure no one noticed his blunder, except maybe Harvis, who kept silent.

  This was Naz’s chance. Suspicion aroused, he focused on Ham with unparalleled senses, studying him carefully. If he lied about what the key was for, Naz would know Ham had somehow gotten his hands on Fears’ key, had a copy made, gave it to Roffio, who would then unlock the door leading to the swimming pool and later complete the dastardly deed.

  “M-My dad is teaching me how to drive,” stammered Ham. “So he wanted me to get a copy made of the key to his red pickup truck. Next year, I’m gonna be drivin’ to Union, Animal.”

  There it was; Ham was lying. Naz wanted to press him further but decided against it, as he could tell Harvis was already justifiably suspicious. He would continue to follow Fears’ advice now. He would continue to believe it would all work itself out.

  “I keep telling you guys it’s not Animal anymore … just plain old Soul.”

  “You got that right. You been playin’ soft all year,” complained Ham. “I miss the Animal … no fights or nothin’. You haven’t got kicked out of one game. Imma start callin’ you Teddy Bear.”

  “You do at your own risk,” threatened Soul as he looked at Ham’s tattoo. “I still lead the team in rebounds and blocked shots. Coach said I’ve matured,” said Soul in a terrible English accent. “What do the letters, IA stand for anyway?”

  “Incubus Apostle,” said Ham.

  Incubus Apostle?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  DEMON MESSENGER

  “Demon messenger,” said Harvis from nowhere.

  “What?” asked Naz.

  “Demon messenger,” repeated Harvis. “That’s what Incubus Apostle means. Does that sound like brotherhood to you, Ham … someone who might look out for you?”

  Ham shrugged. Naz knew Ham hated to be wrong, and he could tell by Ham’s reaction he wasn’t aware the words Incubus Apostle meant demon messenger, and he didn’t know how to respond. Everyone was silent.

  “Maybe you should check with your girlfriend, Dr. Bruce Banner, the next time you mean to deface
your body with permanent ink,” added Harvis.

  Everybody was stunned.

  “Tin Man,” called Soul. “Are my ears playin’ tricks on me or did the Wordsmith here just make a joke?”

  “I think he did,” confirmed Naz.

  “I’m gonna spot you that one, point guard … at least until we win the championship.” Ham laughed and everyone joined in.

  Naz had a little time before Meri’s bus would arrive near MeeChi’s, so he took that time to sort the pieces out in his mind a bit more. There was one piece that didn’t fit. Ruling out the possibility Ham had a twin, he couldn’t be in two places at once; he couldn’t be at MeeChi’s getting a copy of Fears’ key made and basketball practice at the same time. And Ham never missed practice; it was pretty much the only reason he came to school.

  Naz’s internal compass clicked in as he closed his eyes and walked up the block to meet Meri at her bus stop. He knew these streets all too well now, and he let his conscious senses guide him while he turned the problem over to his subconscious, and he remembered. Ham got sick at practice that day, and Fears gave him the keys to his office and instructions to lay down for a while.

  Naz opened his eyes as he arrived at Meri’s bus stop—that would’ve given Ham more than enough time to walk … or run the seven blocks to MeeChi’s and back.

  Even with this new information, Naz was willing to stand down and let destiny run its course. He had no proof, only conjecture. In the end, everyone would probably get what they deserved anyway, whether or not he actively pursued justice. Roffio would get his someday. His gang, at least part of it, already had. Naz smiled as he remembered trapping them in the vacant office building and later pummeling them on the dark street corner of Wessen and Smith. And Ham was a trouble magnet, a walking time bomb. It was just a matter of time before he went off—maybe I am too. And Coach, maybe that was the push he needed to move on to bigger and better things. It will be nice to play basketball for him for four more years. But still, Artie … he didn’t deserve what he got.

  Naz had promised to let Meri start working again. It had been a good day. He’d had his first date with D. He’d had his first date with anybody—I think she kissed me … I think. If a girl’s lips touch your face, it’s a kiss, right?