The Mighty Odds

by Amy Ignatow

  Nick squeezed his eyes shut and thought about moving. Nothing.

  “Did it work?” Jay asked.

  “Do you feel like you’ve moved at all?” Cookie rolled her eyes.

  “Not particularly. Okay, Nick. Concentrate now. Go!” Nothing.

  Martina chewed on her pen for a moment and then continued to draw.

  Jay looked disappointed. “Shame. You can teleport your clothing and rocks, but not another person. Interesting interesting interesting. So even if you find yourself in a stressful situation, you won’t move if someone is anchoring you. I think we’re just about ready to go pay Farshad Rajavi a little visit.”

  Farshad heard the front doorbell ring, followed by his mother calling up to his room. “Farshad, your friends are here to see you!”

  If he were asked to come up with a wildly unbelievable statement, “Farshad, your friends are here to see you” would be in stiff competition with “Farshad, there’s a dolphin growing out of your forehead” and “Racism is over!” He sat up in his bed as Jay Carpenter, Nick Gross, Cookie Parker, and the brown-haired girl from the bus filed into his room, followed by his mother. Nick and the brown-haired girl were holding hands. Farshad could not think of one thing to say.

  “Farshad, they came to see how you are doing!” His mother was entirely too excited about them being there, and Farshad felt a twinge of guilt for not ever having any friends over. Not that he could, seeing as how he didn’t have any friends to invite over, but he’d kind of been hoping that his mother hadn’t noticed that. Judging by her unadulterated glee at the sight of the strange group, she’d definitely noticed. “Would you kids like anything to drink or eat?” she asked them.

  “No thank you,” Nick and Cookie said in unison as Jay said, “Why, yes, Dr. Rajavi, that sounds wonderful! Do you have any delicacies from your native land?” The brown-haired girl just smiled.

  “We’re FINE, thank you,” Cookie said. She was clearly on edge, which made sense, seeing as how she was in Farshad’s terrorist-cell bedroom with some weirdos she normally wouldn’t have given the time of day to.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Farshad said. “I think we just want to hang out. Is that right? Is that what we’re doing here?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Nick. He looked deeply uncomfortable, like Farshad himself. Sitting in bed while wearing Batman pajamas wasn’t exactly the way he usually presented himself. The whole scene was bizarre. His mom backed out of the room, smiling like a lunatic.

  “So,” Farshad said, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, “hello, friends.”

  Nick cleared his throat. “Hey, man. How are you doing?”

  “Well,” Farshad said slowly, “I was in a major accident yesterday, so I’m a little achy. Also, four people who I hardly know just lied to my mother and told her that we’re all good buddies, and now they’re in my room looking at my stuff. How’s it going with you?”

  “We shouldn’t have come here,” Cookie grumbled. “He doesn’t know anything.”

  “I know you think it’s awesome to tell people that I’m an international terrorist. Am I wrong? I don’t think I’m wrong.” Farshad felt himself getting angry. “So why are you here? Come to blame me for the bus accident? Because it was all part of my evil terrorist scheme?”

  The brown-haired girl put down his copy of Persepolis that she had been thumbing through and looked up at Nick. “You shouldn’t stress him out,” she told Farshad.

  Nick looked around the room. “I’m fine,” he said, but that didn’t stop Jay from grabbing hold of Nick’s other arm. Cookie was also looking worriedly at Nick. No one spoke.

  Jay cleared his throat. “Say, Farshad, old sport, you wouldn’t happen to have any strange new superpowers now, would you?” He seemed perfectly serious. Normally, Farshad wouldn’t take anything Jay Carpenter said seriously, because the kid was pretty much the school nutball, but Nick and Cookie were also looking at him as though Jay’s question was valid. The brown-haired girl was looking at his soccer posters.

  “No,” Farshad said carefully, “not that I know of. You?”

  “Farshad,” Nick said, “we saw you. We were there on the bus. We saw what you did.”

  “What exactly did I do?”

  “We saw you lift the bus seat off of Mr. Friend’s leg.”

  That? That was nothing. Farshad might be avoiding team sports, but he still kept in shape. “Yeah,” he said, “I exercise. Lots of people do. It’s actually not a big deal.”

  Nick looked at him. “It’s a big deal when the bus seat was bolted and welded to the floor.”

  Ridiculous. “The accident must have shaken it loose.”

  “From being bolted and welded to the floor?”

  “Sure. Or something like that. It was an old bus. Is this why you came to see me today? To figure out how I lifted a seat? It’s called ‘staying fit.’ Maybe you want to give it a shot one day.” Farshad looked back down at his dad’s laptop to the article about sinkholes that he’d been reading before they came in. Get out. Get out. GET OUT. “Bye, friends.”

  Cookie turned to Jay with a worried look on her face. “You got him?”

  Jay nodded. “Yes, m’lady.” He was still holding Nick’s arm.

  Why was Cookie Parker of all people so worried about Nick? And why were they all being so touchy-feely?

  Cookie glared at Jay, clearly displeased with the “m’lady” comment, and sat down on Farshad’s bed. Cookie. Parker. Is. Sitting. On. My. Bed. WHAT.

  “Look,” she said, “I get that you’re all pissed and stuff, but get over it, because freaky things are happening and you’re part of it. I have spent the last hour with these weirdos and I’ve seen some strange stuff, so take your butt out of your head for a hot minute and listen to what we have to say, because we saw you. We saw you rip the seat out of the floor like it was nothing. That’s not normal. Now we want to know if you’ve been able to do anything else not normal since the accident.”

  GET. OFF. OF. MY. BED. “I’ve pretty much been just sitting here all day. Did you suddenly gain the power to talk to people you think you’re better than? Spooky.”

  Cookie turned back to Nick. “He’s being a jerk,” she said. “Just show him.”

  “I don’t know . . . ,” Nick said.

  “He thinks we’re insane, and I don’t blame him, because we sound totally insane. Just show him already.”

  “Fine,” Nick said, shaking Jay off his arm.

  The brown-haired girl looked up at Farshad. “Don’t worry,” she said.

  Jay took a step back and Nick took a deep breath.

  And then he was gone. Sort of. He was still in the bedroom, but he’d moved a few inches without moving. Jay stepped up to him and grabbed his arm again.

  As much as Farshad hated to agree with Cookie Parker about anything, she was right. That was not normal.

  Cookie had to give Farshad credit for keeping it together. She had been watching Nick teleport for about an hour and was still not used to it.

  So much weird had happened in that hour. Cookie was having trouble wrapping her pounding brain around it. Nick’s disappearances. Martina’s eyes. Mr. Friend. And the voices . . . They’d been pretty quiet since they’d arrived at Farshad’s house, just like they’d quieted down a bit in the woods when most of the students had dispersed.

  It had become pretty clear that Nick only teleported when he was under stress. Maybe Cookie was the same way? The explosions and fire alarms had freaked her out and the voices had gotten louder, so maybe that was it. Maybe this would all go away. Maybe it would be okay and things would go back to normal and she’d never have to talk to these weirdos again. Cookie looked up. Everyone was still quiet.

  It was a little unnerving to be in Terror Boy’s bedroom, not just because he was potentially a terrorist (although, let’s be honest, probably not), but mostly because Cookie had never been inside a bedroom before that belonged to a boy to whom she wasn’t related. He had a lot of full bookshe
lves, more books piled on a desk, and a really nice rug that was half covered with dirty boy clothes. She did her best to avoid looking at a discarded pair of boxer briefs. Were they clean? Why wouldn’t he put them in a hamper? Boys are gross.

  Farshad stared at Nick. “That was different,” he finally said.

  “Yeah,” Nick said.

  Farshad thought a moment. “And it explains why you ended up in the field instead of in the bus with the rest of us.”

  “Eureka!” Jay exclaimed. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you on board. Now,” he continued, “do you think you’re up to lifting something very heavy? Let’s go outside and test your abilities on your mom’s car.”

  “Jay, just give him a second,” Nick said. “This is a lot for anyone to take in.”

  “Nonsense, my good man,” Jay said. “He’s a stalwart man, he can handle it.” He turned to Farshad. “For the sake of propriety, we’ll leave your room right now so that you can disrobe and put on something different. Not that I don’t appreciate your superhero pajamas, but if you’re going to be lifting a car, you might want to wear some dungarees or something. And once you’re ready, we’ll find Mr. Friend and combine powers to stop him from setting the entire town ablaze.”

  “Wait, what?” Cookie’s mouth hung open a moment as she glared at Jay. “Is that what you think this is? That we’re going to band together to become some sort of crazy explosive-substitute-teacher fighters?”

  “Wait, crazy what now?” Farshad asked.

  “Of course,” Jay said. “Why else would you have been given these marvelous powers?”

  Cookie’s head swirled. She looked at Nick. “Is this what you think is happening?!?”

  Nick shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what to think. I’m just trying to figure out how not to get stuck in a wall without holding someone’s hand.”

  Cookie looked at Martina, whose eyes had turned a deep blue. “Sure,” she said.

  “Sure, what?” Cookie asked.

  “I’m in,” Martina said.

  “Excellent!” Jay exclaimed.

  Cookie glowered at her. “And how exactly are you going to stop Mr. Friend?” she asked. “Attack him with a series of rapid eye-color changes?”

  “Do you think that would work?” Martina asked. “It doesn’t seem like the best strategy.”

  “You’re weird,” Cookie growled.

  “Now, now, dearest chocolate-skinned empress of my heart,” Jay began. “I realize that discovering your true destiny is a lot to take in—”

  “This is CRAZY.” Cookie stared at all of them: Nick, clearly nervous and hand in hand with Jay, who was jittery with excitement. Martina, now green-eyed and serenely unbothered by the heaping pile of madness that she’d just been dragged into (strangely enough, by Cookie herself). Farshad, the would-be terrorist in his messy bedroom wearing Batman pajamas. This was her destiny? These were her people? Never ever never. For her entire life—up until this point—every ounce of her formidable social powers had gone into preventing just such a fate. She was the only black girl in all of Muellersville and had somehow managed to climb her way to the top of the social order to become the most popular and powerful person in school, and she was not about to watch it all come crashing down around her. No. No. NO.

  Cookie was trembling now with the effort it took not to scream. “We are not combining powers or banding together or forming the League of Incredible Nerds with Nearly Useless Powers,” she said, painfully aware that she was sounding more hysterical with each word.

  “Then why are you even here?” Nick asked coldly. “Why don’t you just leave?”

  Cookie was stunned. Nick Gross has just told her to leave. No one spoke. They all just stared at her.

  “Fine,” Cookie said, gathering her things. “I will.”

  Jay looked pained. “Daniesha . . .”

  “Actually,” Farshad said. “I think you should all leave.”

  Farshad went to his window and watched as they walked down the street and disappeared around the corner, Cookie marching angrily ten paces ahead of Nick, Jay, and Martina. Well, they didn’t actually disappear, Farshad considered; he just couldn’t see them anymore. If someone was around the corner, that person would probably be able to see them, so they didn’t disappear. No, he knew now what disappearing really looked like.

  He was having a hard time taking it all in. Strange powers? Nick could definitely teleport, and Martina’s eyes had changed color, but it was unclear what Cookie could do (besides be a terrible human being, but that wasn’t a sudden superpower so much as a nasty personality trait). Jay seemed to believe that the bus accident had given Nick the ability to disappear and reappear, and that the same accident had given Farshad some sort of strength. He looked at his hands. Was he really stronger than he had been before yesterday? He didn’t feel particularly strong. Farshad sat down at his desk and picked up his pen. It snapped in half, spilling ink all over his desk blotter. He grabbed a pencil and began to write. It also snapped in half.

  Weird.

  Farshad gingerly picked up the pointy half of the pencil and made a list.

  Farshad looked over the names. Maybe he’d kicked them out of his room too soon. He kind of didn’t know exactly why he’d done it, other than that he was uncomfortable and didn’t like any of them and wanted to be alone. Farshad supposed that was reason enough.

  He thought back to the accident. Lifting the bus seat had been surprisingly easy. Nick was probably right—those things were bolted and welded to the floor, so Farshad wouldn’t have been able to lift it under normal circumstances. But there were many well-documented cases of women lifting and tossing entire cars to get to their babies who were pinned underneath. He had probably been energized by the trauma of it all and that had given him a brief shot of super strength. That had to be it (even though Farshad wasn’t a mother and Mr. Friend was certainly not his baby).

  He looked at the fresh ink stain on his desk. Only one way to tell.

  Farshad changed into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans and went to the garage, where his mother’s car was parked. Feeling a little silly, he squatted down next to the passenger side, grabbed hold of the bottom of the frame, and tried to lift it.

  Nothing. Farshad let go of the car, sat down on the garage floor, and laughed at himself. Yes, something very strange was definitely going on with the others but he was perfectly—

  The car hadn’t moved, but there were two deep dents where Farshad’s thumbs had been. It looked almost like that section of the car had been made out of tinfoil.

  Not normal.

  Farshad went into his backyard to find a rock, putting it in the palm of his hand and wrapping his fingers around it. He squeezed and opened his hand. The rock looked exactly the same. He put his thumb on it and pressed down. The rock cracked into a bunch of smaller pieces, as if it were made out of sugar.

  Definitely not normal.

  By the time Farshad felt ready to come back into the garage, he’d pulverized seven stones and ripped a small tree out of the ground using only his thumbs. He’d tried to do things without using his thumbs, but nothing particularly interesting had happened. Yet whenever he gripped anything with his thumbs or just applied pressure to something using his thumbs, he would destroy or seriously damage the thing he touched.

  Farshad went back to his mother’s car, hooked his thumbs under the bumper, and lifted. The whole back of the car rose an inch. He let it down gently and went back to his room and picked up a new pen, this time holding it in his fist like a toddler with a crayon.

  Someone was missing. He added one more line.

  Farshad heard his father’s car pull up, so he slipped the list into his notebook. When he got downstairs his mother was preparing dinner and in a very good mood.

  “Farshad had friends over today,” she chirped to his father.

  “Oh really?” Dr. Rajavi asked, and gave his son a surprised look.

  God. Both of Farshad’s parents knew that no one li
ked him. They’d probably been discussing his loserness with each other for ages.

  “They wanted to make sure he was all right, isn’t that nice?” His mom began chopping apricots for the chicken tagine. Chicken tagine was the sort of thing that she only cooked when she had the time, which was never. It was delicious. Farshad briefly considered getting into bus accidents and staying home from school more often.

  “Very nice,” his father said. “You should let them know that they can visit anytime.”

  “I made sure to tell them as they were leaving. Would they like to come over again soon?” his mother asked hopefully. “That Jay was very interested in my cooking.”

  “Sounds like he has excellent taste!” Farshad’s father laughed and looked at him. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Are your friends going to be coming over again?”

  Farshad watched his mother put the apricots into the slow cooker. When he was little he used to painstakingly sort all of the dried apricot bits out of the dish and save them until the end of the meal because he loved them so much. His mother still always made sure to put extra in. “Sure,” Farshad said, “or maybe I’ll hang out with them after school tomorrow.”

  His parents beamed, and Farshad wasn’t sure whether he’d lied to them or not. He didn’t have too much time to think about it before the front doorbell rang again.

  “Don’t follow me,” Cookie said as they walked away from Farshad’s house, as if Nick had actually been trying to follow her. (Jay might have been, but that was a different story.) “And don’t try to contact me. None of this ever happened. I’m out.” She quickly stomped off. Jay watched her go with a sigh.

  “She is magnificent,” he said.

  “She seems angry,” Martina said.

  “Maybe she’ll cool down soon,” Nick said.

  “I think she likes being angry,” Martina said. She had a sort of almost absentminded way of saying things that shouldn’t have been true but probably were. Nick found her a little unnerving. Then again, it was an unnerving sort of day.