by Terry Brooks
“No, listen, I read this in a report.” Robert looked around to be sure they were all listening. “Belching and farting are necessary bodily functions. They release gases that would otherwise poison the body. You know about the exploding cows?”
“Oh, Robert!” Cass Minter rolled her eyes.
“No, cows can explode if enough gas builds up inside them. It’s a medical condition. They produce all this methane gas when they digest grass. If they don’t get rid of it, it can make them explode. There was this whole article on it. I guess it’s like what happens to milk cows if you don’t milk them.” He took another drink of Coke and belched again. With Robert, you never knew if he was making it up. “Think about what could happen to us if we stopped belching.”
“Maybe you should give up drinking Coke,” Cass suggested dryly. She was a big, heavyset girl with a round, cheerful face and intelligent green eyes. She always wore jeans and loose-fitting shirts, an unspoken concession to her weight, and her lank brown hair looked as if no comb had passed through it any time in recent memory. Cass was Nest’s oldest friend, from all the way back to when they were in second grade together. She winked at Nest now. “Maybe you should stick to tomato juice, Robert.”
Robert Heppler hated tomato juice. He’d been forced to drink it once at camp, compelled to do so by a counselor in front of a dozen other campers, after which he had promptly vomited it up again. It was a point of honor with him that he would die before he ever did that again.
“Where did you read all this, anyway?” Jared Scott asked with benign interest.
Robert shrugged. “On the Internet.”
“You know, you can’t believe everything you read,” Brianna declared, repeating something her mother frequently told her.
“Well, duh!” Robert sneered. “Anyway, this was a Dave Barry article.”
“Dave Barry?” Cass was in stitches. “Now there’s a reliable source. I suppose you get your world news from Liz Smith.”
Robert stopped and slowly turned to face her. “Oh, I am cut to the quick!” He looked pointedly at Nest. “Like I can’t tell the difference between what’s reliable and what isn’t, right?”
“Leave me out of this,” Nest begged.
“Don’t be so difficult, Robert!” Brianna chided, smoothing down her spotless white shorts. Only Brianna would wear white shorts to go fishing and somehow manage to keep them white.
“Difficult? I’m not difficult! Am I?” He threw up his hands. “Jared, am I?”
But Jared Scott was staring blankly at nothing, his face calm, his expression detached, as if he had removed himself entirely from everything that was happening around him and gone somewhere else. He was having another episode, Nest realized—his third that afternoon. The medicine he was taking didn’t seem to be helping a whole lot. At least his epilepsy never did much more than it was doing now. It just took him away for a while and then brought him back again, snipping out small spaces in his life, like panels cut from a comic book.
“Well, anyway, I don’t think I’m difficult.” Robert turned back to Brianna. “I can’t help it if I’m interested in learning about stuff. What am I supposed to do—stop reading?”
Brianna sighed impatiently. “You could at least stop being so dramatic!”
“Oh, now I’m too dramatic, am I? Gee, first I’m too difficult and then I’m too dramatic! How ever will I get on with my life?”
“We all ponder that dilemma on a daily basis,” Cass observed archly.
“You spend too much time in front of your computer!” Brianna snapped.
“Well, you spend too much time in front of your mirror!” Robert snapped right back.
It was no secret that Brianna devoted an inordinate amount of time to looking good, in large part as the result of having a mother who was a hairdresser and who firmly believed that makeup and clothes made the difference in a young girl’s lot in life. From the time her daughter was old enough to pay attention, Brianna’s mother had instilled in her the need to “look the part,” as she was fond of putting it, training her to style her hair and do her makeup and providing her with an extensive wardrobe of matching outfits that Brianna was required to wear whatever the occasion—even on an outing that centered around fishing. Lately Brianna had begun to chafe a bit under the constraints of her mother’s rigid expectations, but Mom still held the parental reins with a firm grip and full-blown rebellion was a year or so away.
The mirror crack brought an angry flush to Brianna Brown’s face, and she glared hotly at Robert.
Cass Minter was quick to intervene. “You both spend too much time in front of lighted screens, Robert”—she gave Nest another wink—“but in Brianna’s case the results are more obviously successful.”
Nest laughed softly in spite of herself. She envied Brianna’s smooth curves, her flawless skin, and her soft, feminine look. She was beautiful in a way that Nest never would be. Her tiny, grade-school girl’s body was developing curves on schedule while Nest’s simply refused to budge. Boys looked at Brianna and were made hungry and awestruck. When they looked at Nest, they were left indifferent.
Robert started to say something and belched, and everyone laughed. Jared Scott cleared his throat, and his eyes refocused on his friends. “Are we going swimming tomorrow?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.
They walked through the center of the park, keeping to the shade of the big oaks that ran along the bluff up from the ball fields bordering Nest’s backyard, then cut down toward Cass Minter’s rambling two-story. A game was in progress on the fourth field, the one farthest into the park and closest to the toboggan run. They sauntered toward it, caught up in their conversation, which had turned now to the merits of learning a foreign language, and they were almost to the backstop when Nest realized belatedly that one of the players lounging on the benches, waiting his turn at bat, was Danny Abbott. She tried to veer away from him, pushing at Cass to get her to move back toward the roadway, but it was too late. He had already seen her and was on his feet.
“Hey, Nest!” he called out boldly. “Wait up!”
She slowed reluctantly as he started over, already angry with herself for letting this happen. “Oh, great!” Robert muttered under his breath. A scowl twisted his narrow lips.
“Go on,” she told Cass, glancing at her shoes. “I’ll be along in a minute.”
Cass kept moving as if that had been her plan all along, and the other three dutifully followed. All of them drifted on for about twenty feet and stopped. Nest held her ground as Danny Abbott approached. He was big, strong, and good-looking, and for some reason he had a thing for her. A high-school junior in the fall, he was two years older than she was and convinced he was the coolest thing in jeans. A few months ago, at a Y dance, flattered by his interest, she had made the mistake of letting him kiss her. The kiss was all she wanted, and after she experienced it, she decided she wasn’t that interested in Danny Abbott after all. But Danny couldn’t let it go. He began to talk about her to his friends, and some of the stories got back to her. Danny was saying he had gotten a lot further with her than he had. Worse, he was saying she was anxious for more. She stopped having anything to do with him, but this just seemed to fuel his interest.
He strolled up to her with a confident smile, the big jock coming on to the impressionable little groupie. She felt her anger build. “So what’s happening?” he asked, his voice slow and languid. “Catch anything?”
She shook her head. “Not much. What do you want?”
“Hey, don’t be so prickly.” He brushed at his dark hair and looked off into the distance, like he was seeing into the future and taking its measure. “I was just wondering why I hadn’t seen you around.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, forcing herself to look at him, refusing to be intimidated. “You know why, Danny.”
He pursed his lips and nodded, as if thinking it through. “Okay, I made a mistake. I said some stuff I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. Can we dro
p it now? I like you, Nest. I don’t want you pissed off at me. Hey, why don’t you stick around while I finish this game, and then we’ll go out for a burger.”
“I’m with my friends,” she said.
“So? I’m with mine, too. They can go their way and we can go ours, right?”
He gave her his most dazzling smile, and it made her want to say yes in spite of herself. Stupid, stupid. She shook her head. “No, I’ve got to get home.”
He nodded solemnly. “Okay. Maybe tomorrow night. You know what? There’s a dance here at the park Sunday. The Jaycees are putting it on. Want to go with me?”
She shook her head a second time. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” A hint of irritation crept into his voice.
She bit her lip. “I’ll probably come with my friends.”
He gave a disgusted sigh. “You spend a lot of time with your friends, don’t you?”
She didn’t say anything.
He glanced past her and shook his head. “Why do you hang out with them, anyway? I don’t get it.” He was looking right at her now, facing her down. “It seems to me you’re wasting your time.”
Her lips tightened, but she still didn’t say anything.
“I don’t mean to be picking on them or anything, but just think about it. They’re weird, Nest, in case you hadn’t noticed. Barbie Doll, Big Bertha, Joe Space Cadet, and Bobby the Mouth. Weird, Nest. What are you doing with them?”
“Danny,” she said quietly.
“Hey, I’m just trying to make a point. You’ve got a lot more going for you than they do, that’s all I’m saying. You’re one of the best runners in the state, and you’re not even in high school! You’re practically famous! Besides, you’re a cool chick. You’re nothing like them. I really don’t get it.”
She nodded slowly. “I know you don’t. Maybe that’s the point.”
He sighed. “Okay, whatever. Anyway, why don’t you stick around.”
“Hey, Danny, you’re up!” someone called.
“Yeah, in a minute!” he shouted back. He put his hands on her shoulders, resting them there casually. “C’mon, Nest. Tell me you’ll stay until I finish my at bat.”
She stepped back, trying to disengage herself. “I have to go.”
“One at bat,” he pressed. “Five minutes.” He stepped forward, staying with her, keeping his hands in place. “What do you say?”
“Abbott, you’re up!”
“Hey, Nest, take your shoulders out from under his hands!” shouted Robert Heppler suddenly. “You’re making him nervous!”
Danny Abbott blinked, but kept his dark eyes fixed on Nest. His gaze was so intense, so filled with purpose, that it was all Nest Freemark could do to keep from wilting under its heat. But she was just angry enough by now that she refused to give him the satisfaction.
“I have to go,” she repeated, keeping her eyes locked on his.
His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I won’t let you,” he said. He smiled, but the warmth was missing from his eyes.
“Take your hands away,” she told him.
A couple of the boys who had been standing around the backstop started to drift over, curious to see what was happening.
“You’re not so hot,” he said quietly, so that only she could hear. “Not half as hot as you think.”
She tried to twist away, but his grip was too strong.
“Hey, Danny, pick on someone your own size!” shouted Robert, coming forward a few steps.
One thing about Robert, he wasn’t afraid of anyone. He’d been in so many fights in grade school that his parents had taken him to a psychiatrist. He’d been suspended more times than Nest could remember. His problem was that he wasn’t very careful about choosing his opponents, and today was no exception. Danny Abbott looked over at him with undisguised contempt. Danny was bigger, stronger, quicker, and meaner than Robert, and he was looking for an excuse to slug someone.
“What did you say, Heppler?”
Robert held his ground and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought, you little creep.”
Robert threw up his hands in exaggerated dismay. “Oh, great! I’m being called a creep by a guy who wrestles with girls!”
Half-a-dozen ballplayers had congregated, and a few snickered at the remark. Danny Abbott dropped his hands from Nest’s shoulders. His hands knotted into fists, and he turned toward Robert. Robert gave him a very deliberate smirk, but there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes now.
“Robert,” Cass called in a low, warning voice.
“I’m going to wipe up the park with you,” Danny Abbott said, and started forward.
Nest Freemark darted in front of him, bringing him to a stop. She stood there shaking, her arms at her sides. “Leave him alone, Danny. I’m the one you’re angry at.”
Danny shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“You’re twice his size!”
“Guess he should have thought of that before he opened his big mouth.”
“Punch him out, Danny,” one of his friends muttered, and a few others quickly echoed the sentiment.
Nest felt the late-afternoon heat scorch her throat as she breathed it in. “Look, forget about this, Danny,” she insisted, still blocking his path to Robert. “I’ll stay to watch you bat, okay?” She hated herself for saying the words, but she was frightened now. “Leave Robert alone.”
He looked at her, and there was undisguised contempt in his eyes. He was enjoying this. “You should have thought about that before. You should have paid a little better attention to your mouth.”
He started forward again, and she moved back quickly, still blocking his way. She could feel her control slipping, and her breath came more rapidly. She had promised herself! She had promised Gran! “Danny, don’t do this!” she snapped at him.
“Danny, don’t do this!” he sneered, mimicking her, and the boys with him laughed.
“Danny, please!”
“Get out of my way,” he growled.
He reached for her, their eyes locked, and her magic slammed into him. In an instant he lay sprawled on the ground, his legs and arms tangled, a look of utter shock on his handsome face. The eager shouts of his friends turned to gasps, and Nest stepped quickly away, her face white, her eyes bright and intense with concentration. Danny struggled to his feet, glared at her in rage, not certain what had happened to him, but knowing that somehow she was to blame, and then lunged for her. Her eyes found his. Down he went again, crumpling like a rag doll, as if he could no longer manage to stand upright. He rolled over and over, shrieking unintelligibly, his voice unnaturally high and piercing, his words a jumble of unrecognizable sounds.
Everyone had gone completely still. They stood knotted into two groups, Nest’s friends on one side, Danny’s on the other, frozen in the swelter of heat and excitement, stunned by what they were witnessing, mesmerized by the spectacle of Danny Abbott’s collapse. The park had become a vast arena, carpeted with grass, walled by trees, empty of sound. Magic raced through the air with savage grace and reckless need, but no one except Nest could sense its presence.
Danny came to his hands and knees and stayed there, his head hanging down between his shoulders, his chest heaving. He coughed violently and spit, then drew in several huge gulps of air. He tried to stand, then gave it up, mouthing a low obscenity at Nest that faded quickly into a whispered groan.
Nest turned away, feeling cold and empty and sick at heart. She did not look at Danny Abbott or his friends. She did not look at Cass or Robert or Brianna or Jared either. “Let’s go,” she whispered, barely able to speak the words, and without waiting to see if anyone would follow, she walked off into the park.
Nest had been eleven before she discovered she could work magic. She was never sure afterward if she had been able to do so all along and simply hadn’t realized it or if her ability had matured with growth. Even Gran, when told about it, hadn’t been able to say for sure. By then Nest had lived w
ith the feeders and Wraith for close to six years and with Pick for almost that long and knew there was magic out there, so it wasn’t all that weird to discover that a small piece of it was hers. Besides, Gran had been saying she had magic for so many years that, even without ever having been presented with any evidence of it, she had always half believed that it was so.
Her discovery that she really could do magic was due mainly to Lori Adami. As grade-school classmates, they had developed a deep and abiding dislike for each other. Each worked hard at snubbing the other and each made certain she told her friends what a creep the other was, and that was about the extent of it. But in the sixth grade the war between them suddenly escalated. Lori began to go out of her way to make cutting remarks about Nest, always in front of other kids and always just within earshot. Nest retaliated by acting as if she hadn’t heard, all the while patiently waiting for Lori to tire of this latest game.
But Lori Adami was nothing if not persistent, and one day she said that Nest’s mother was crazy and that was why she killed herself and that Nest was probably crazy, too. It was winter, and they were standing in the hall by their lockers before classes, stripping off their coats and boots. Nest heard the remark, and without even thinking about it, she dropped her coat and gloves on the floor, turned around, walked right up to Lori, and hit her in the face. Since Nest had never lifted a hand against her in all these years, Lori was caught completely by surprise. But Lori had been raised with three older brothers, and she knew how to defend herself. Hissing something awful at Nest, she went after her.
