The Mighty Odds

by Amy Ignatow

  They’d been told that the damage to Nick’s house was superficial, and someone from the insurance agency was going to stop by in the morning to assess the damages. Nick really didn’t like the idea of someone poking around his house and assigning monetary value to all of his things. What if their photo albums had been incinerated? How much money were they going to be awarded for losing photos of his young and healthy parents holding him as a baby?

  His mother had inhaled a lot of smoke, and the doctors at Muellersville Memorial wanted to keep her overnight for observation. Two hospital stays in two nights for the Gross family—it was like old times; a bad joke that Nick hated thinking about and wouldn’t dare tell his mother. He leaned forward, put his hand on hers for a moment, and stood up to leave.

  Jay was waiting for Nick outside his mother’s room with a cup of hospital cafeteria coffee in his hand. Nick let himself smile a little. Jay had finally gotten his caffeine fix.

  “How’s Angela?” Jay asked. His eyes were still a little puffy from crying.

  “Sleeping,” Nick said, sinking down into the seat next to Jay.

  “My dad is on his way,” Jay said. “The nurses let me call him and he’s picking us up and you’re staying over.” That made sense. Nick and Jay spent most weekend nights at each other’s houses anyway. He probably still had clothing there. Nick looked forward to changing and not smelling like the inside of a smokestack. “Also,” Jay said with a waggle of his eyebrows, “I think I saw Ms. Zelle walking down the hall. She was probably here to comfort you.”

  “Sure she was,” Nick said, acting nonchalant but peeking down the hallway all the same. But instead of Ms. Zelle, he saw Cookie, Farshad, and Martina making their way toward them.

  Martina reached him first. “You smell like smoke,” she observed.

  “Did you just sniff me?”

  Cookie stepped forward. “Someone is trying to find you.”

  Nick froze. “Mr. Friend?”

  “No,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Someone else.” She turned and looked down the hall, where a teenager dressed in black pants and a plain white shirt stood. He was holding a straw hat.

  “Him,” Cookie said.

  It was a strange scene. Cookie, Farshad, Nick, Martina, Jay, and the teenager who introduced himself to them as Abe Zook sat around a table in the hospital cafeteria. Abe looked extremely uncomfortable. Jay had another cup of coffee.

  “What did you do to Mr. Friend?” Nick asked Abe.

  “He is safe,” Abe said, looking down at his hands. “I think.”

  “Uh, you think?” Cookie asked. “You jumped off the back of a horse and tackled him to the ground.”

  “I feel very bad about that.”

  “Sure,” Cookie said. “Aren’t you Amish supposed to, you know, not hurt anybody?”

  “Now, now, Daniesha,” Jay said quickly, “we cannot claim to understand the intricacies of a culture which we are but mere casual observers. Let’s not fall prey to the vagaries of assumptions!”

  Farshad shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but Mr. Friend is a pretty dangerous guy. Wherever you have him, you’ve got to turn him in to the authorities.”

  “But he tells me not to.” Abe looked tortured.

  “Mr. Friend?” Cookie asked.

  Abe looked around and lowered his voice. “No. The ghost.”

  Nick looked at Cookie, who looked at Farshad, who looked at Martina, who was sketching something in her book, so he looked back at Abe instead. “Ghost?” Nick asked.

  “Fantastic,” Jay breathed.

  “What are you talking about?” Cookie asked.

  Abe lowered his voice. “Since the night of the accident, a ghost has been speaking to me. He sent me to get the Fire Man and he sent me back to talk to you.”

  “So, did you hit your head in the crash?” Farshad asked. “Because some of us hit our heads. Hitting your head might make you feel a little . . .”

  “Completely nuts?” Cookie offered.

  “I wasn’t in the accident,” the teenager said, frowning. “Your bus almost ran me over but swerved out of the way. Then, after everyone was out, I went to get help, and that’s when the ghost started talking to me.”

  “Extraordinary!” Jay said, leaping up from his seat. “Our man Abe here has the ABILITY TO SPEAK TO THE DEAD.”

  “Sit down!” Farshad hissed at the same time as Cookie growled, “Shut it!”

  “I am sorry, my dearest, but I will not shut it. This is amazing. Do you know what this means? It means that we can communicate with those who are no longer with us!”

  “No,” Nick said, “no, we can’t. There are no such things as ghosts.” He gave his friend a hard look, and Jay looked down and fell silent. “There is another explanation for what’s going on.” He looked at Abe. “What did the ghost want you to tell us?”

  “He wanted me to let you know not to worry about the Fire Man anymore. He wanted you to know that you are now safe from him.”

  “Goody,” Cookie said, “I feel totally reassured.”

  Farshad looked perplexed. “So where’s Mr. Friend?”

  “He’s at my farm,” Abe said. “The ghost says that he can take care of him there and keep him safe until . . .”

  “Until what?” Nick asked.

  “Until the ghost and his friend can figure out what’s wrong with him.”

  “So your ghost has a friend?” asked Farshad.

  “Is it another ghost?” asked Jay.

  “There is no ghost,” Cookie said. She stood up. “Someone is messing with you. Someone is messing with all of us, and that someone knows what happened to us during that accident. Let’s go.” She looked each of them in the eye and felt like her old, unstoppable self.

  “I’m with Daniesha,” Jay said with fervor.

  “No,” Nick said. He looked down the hall to the room where his mother slept. Leaving her seemed crazy, but Cookie was right. He needed to know what had happened to him. She’d never know that he was gone. “Jay, I need you to stay here and tell your dad that my aunt picked me up.” His best friend looked crestfallen. “I need you,” Nick repeated.

  “Of course,” Jay said. “I understand that my role to play in this endeavor will be to hold the fort down. I will bear false witness to my own father so that you can make progress with your investigation. I will not fail you.” He gave the group a quick, regretful look. “All I ask is that you think fondly of my sacrifice and you debrief me upon your return. Godspeed.” Jay took a quick bow and then left the cafeteria.

  “Whoever has Mr. Friend had better have answers for us,” Cookie said as they walked out of the hospital.

  “Or what?” Farshad asked.

  “Or we’ll get answers,” Cookie said. She spun around and looked at Abe, who immediately looked down at the ground. “You’re taking us to your farm. Where is your car?”

  “Hey, look, a horse,” Martina said, pointing at a horse and buggy that was parked in the visitors’ lot of the hospital.

  “You’re kidding me,” Nick said.

  “I know that horse,” Farshad said.

  Cookie marched up grimly to the buggy, took a deep breath, and climbed inside. Martina and Nick followed, and Farshad climbed onto the front bench next to Abe.

  “Take us to your ghost,” he said.

  Cookie had never been in a horse-drawn buggy before. She had seen them plenty of times, trotting down the county roads around Muellersville and gumming up traffic, as well as in the historical areas of Philadelphia, where tourists paid to be shown the sights from high up in a fancy open carriage. When she was little, she’d always wanted to go on a ride, but would never in a million years have guessed this was how she’d end up in one.

  The buggy was much, much faster than she would have predicted—once they hit the road out of town it seemed like they were going as fast as a car.

  “Did we just pass that truck?” Nick asked. The whole buggy was shaking and it was hard to hear
him over the rattling of the wooden wheels flying down the pavement.

  Martina looked out the small square window. “We just passed a bunch of cars,” she shouted.

  There were no seat belts. Of course. Cookie gripped her seat. “Is that normal?” she bleated. “I feel like that’s not normal!”

  “Maybe the cars are going really slow!” Martina yelled. Outside, the farmland flew by in the moonlight. They heard Farshad and Abe shouting something to each other, but couldn’t figure out what. Nick looked green.

  “Are you okay?” Cookie asked him. The buggy lurched, and Nick, Cookie, and Martina were all thrown from their benches. They landed on the floor of the carriage in a jumbled heap.

  “This is awkward!” Martina shouted.

  “MMMRRPPHHH!” Nick tried to push Cookie off his face. She struggled to get up but was thrown backward into Martina as the buggy rocked back and forth.

  “Gah! Hi!” Martina yelped.

  “HOW FAST ARE WE GOING?” Cookie yelled to Farshad.

  “VERY!” they heard Farshad yelling back.

  “ARE WE GOING TO DIE?” Nick hollered.

  “POSSIBLY!”

  “CAN YOU TELL ABE TO SLOW THE HELL DOWN?” Cookie screamed.

  “HE SAYS THE HORSE DOESN’T WANT TO SLOW DOWN!” Farshad sounded terrified.

  “I TRULY DO NOT CARE WHAT THE HORSE WANTS!”

  “Do you think the horse has super speed?” Martina wondered aloud.

  “Oh my god.” Cookie stared at her before tumbling on top of Nick again.

  “WE’RE GOING TO DIE,” Nick said.

  Nick hadn’t eaten anything since he’d thrown up in his yard after the fire, and he was glad for it because there was nothing left for his stomach to expel. Once they were off the country road, the buggy slowed down and the horse ambled at a reasonable speed until they stopped in front of a large barn. Nick tumbled out of the cab and immediately fell to the ground, as if he’d just disembarked from a boat that had been through a tidal wave. The others didn’t look so hot but managed to remain upright. Abe helped Nick up off the ground.

  “I don’t like your horse,” Nick told him.

  “The ghost has her really spooked,” Abe said. “I’ve never seen her run as fast as she has since he showed up.”

  “Have you ever seen any horse run that fast?” Cookie asked.

  “No, but we don’t have call for a lot of fancy racing horses on the farm,” Abe said.

  “Well, let’s see what we can do about this ghost situation,” Cookie said. “Where is he?”

  “Probably with the Fire Man,” Abe said, pointing to the barn.

  “In the highly flammable wooden barn?” Farshad asked as Abe pushed open the large barn doors.

  The inside of the barn smelled like animal farts. There were sleeping cows and pigs and, from what Nick could hear, more than a few chickens. In the center of the barn, lit by lantern light, lay Mr. Friend on a cot under a quilt.

  “Is he dead?” Cookie asked.

  “No, he is sleeping.” Abe looked around nervously. “The ghost gave him something to help him sleep,” he whispered.

  “Shady,” Cookie muttered.

  “Is the . . . ghost here right now?” Farshad asked, looking around the barn.

  “Yes,” Martina said, pointing to the empty chair next to the cot. “He’s sitting right there.” She waved at the chair.

  “You can see me?” a voice asked. It was a man’s voice, and it sounded familiar.

  “Sure,” Martina said. “Can’t everyone?”

  “No,” Cookie, Nick, Farshad, and the voice said at the same time. Abe looked shocked.

  “Oh,” Martina said. “Well, he’s right over there. It’s the bus driver.”

  For a moment no one spoke. “Oh thank god,” the bus driver said finally. “I’m so glad you can see me. No one has been able to see me since the accident.”

  Mr. Friend let out a small moan and everyone took a step back.

  “Don’t worry,” the bus driver said, “he’s not going to hurt anyone.”

  “Were you able to take away his . . . power?” Cookie asked, looking desperately at the chair.

  “He’s standing next to me now.” Martina pointed.

  “Whatever,” Cookie said dismissively. “Can Mr. Friend still explode stuff?”

  “I don’t know,” the bus driver said. “But probably. I needed to calm him down so he couldn’t hurt anyone. I gave him some horse tranquilizer.”

  “So, you aren’t a ghost?” Abe asked, looking around the inside of the barn in a fruitless attempt to see the bus driver.

  “No, Abe, I told you, my name is Ed,” the bus driver said. “I’m afraid I’ve completely confused him.” He sighed.

  “He’s not the only one that’s confused. What happened to us?” Cookie asked.

  “What happened to you?” Ed asked. “Tell me exactly what happened to you.”

  “Everything has been . . . different since the accident,” Farshad said with a warning in his voice. Nick understood. Cookie caught his eye. She got it. Don’t give the Invisible Man any details.

  “Nick can teleport and Farshad can crush things and Cookie can read minds and my eyes keep changing color,” Martina said. “Oh, and I can see invisible people. And I think that Abe’s horse has super speed.”

  “Martina!” Cookie growled.

  “What?”

  “The horse has super speed?” Ed asked. Cookie still had no idea where to look.

  “That would explain a great deal,” Abe murmured to himself.

  “Ed,” Cookie said, taking a step toward Martina but looking at the area nearish to her. “Tell us what’s going on. You brought Mr. Friend here, so clearly you think that you can help him. And if you can help him, that means you know what’s wrong with him.”

  “And what’s wrong with us,” said Nick.

  “And you can fix us,” Cookie said.

  The empty space next to Martina let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know exactly what to tell you.”

  “Start with everything,” Cookie said angrily. “Because the bus crash was your fault. We got hurt because of you. You owe us.”

  “I never meant to hurt any of you.” Ed said, and they heard the sound of his feet shuffling the hay on the floor as he moved across the barn. “I was doing a favor for my brother. He knew I was driving to Philadelphia and needed me to deliver something to one of his colleagues.”

  “What were you delivering?” Cookie asked.

  “Who’s your brother?” Farshad asked.

  “So you really aren’t a ghost?” Abe asked. “Are you sure? Maybe you died in the crash.”

  “Abe,” Nick said, “there was no dead body. He’s invisible. The crash did something weird to us and made him invisible and your horse completely insane.”

  Mr. Friend moaned in his sleep.

  “Wait,” Cookie said. “Someone is coming.” She looked frightened. “Someone is looking for Mr. Friend.”

  “How do you know that?” Ed asked.

  “She knows,” Farshad said.

  “How far away are they?”

  “We should hide,” Cookie said, her voice urgent. She headed to the back of the barn. Farshad grabbed Martina, and Nick watched as the invisible bus driver lifted up a groaning Mr. Friend. It looked like Yo-Yo Sub was floating, ungracefully, in midair. The bus driver must have had him over his shoulder.

  “Here, here,” Abe said, herding the kids up a ladder to a hayloft. “Get under the hay,” he whispered.

  “Ew, no,” Cookie said as Martina dragged her underneath a pile. Outside, they heard the sound of a car engine. “Who is it?” Nick whispered to Cookie, who was peeking out from underneath the hay to watch the moaning body of Mr. Friend float into one of the empty animal stalls below them.

  “I don’t know but she sounded really . . . cold.”

  “She?”

  “Shhh.” Farshad clapped his hand over Nick’s mouth and pointed to the open door of the barn.


  It was Ms. Zelle.

  Farshad held his breath. He knew that he should have felt relieved to see Ms. Zelle. She was an adult, and the science club adviser, and she could give them all a lift back to town in a vehicle that probably wasn’t going to kill them. But he stayed quiet. He was good at that.

  Farshad could make out the details of Ms. Zelle’s face in the lantern light. “Ryan?” she called out again. “I know you’re in here. It’s okay. You can come out.” She began walking through the barn, peeking her head over the stalls. Her high heels made her wobble on the uneven dirt floor.

  “Excuse me.” Abe stepped out from underneath the hayloft. “You are in my family’s barn.”

  “Where is Ryan?” Ms. Zelle asked. “I know you brought him here.”

  “This is not your barn. You should go,” Abe said.

  “And you should tell me where Ryan is,” Ms. Zelle said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a Taser. She pointed it at Abe. The electricity from the tip of the gun crackled, illuminating her face. She looked terrifying.

  “Whut,” Farshad heard Cookie say next to him.

  “WHERE. IS. HE,” Ms. Zelle demanded, her face contorting. Abe took a step back. In the stall, Mr. Friend let out a groan.

  “Ryan?” Ms. Zelle asked. “Ryan, it’s Maggie. Can you hear my voice?”

  “Maggie . . . ?” Mr. Friend’s voice was slurred but he definitely didn’t sound asleep.

  “This is not good,” Nick whispered.

  “You think?” Cookie hissed.

  Martina pointed to Ms. Zelle. A moment later the Taser flew out of her hand and her body began to contort.

  “Are you doing that?” Nick gasped, looking at Martina.

  “No, the bus driver is. He’s trying to keep her from getting the electricity gun.”

  “Ohhh. Right.”

  Ms. Zelle might not have been able to see who she was fighting, but she was definitely fighting back. Gone was the wobble in her step: She was fighting like someone who had been trained in martial arts. It was one of the most disturbing and coolest things Farshad had ever seen. “Whoa,” Cookie said next to him, lifting her head farther out of the haystack. They could hear the bus driver panting with exertion. He may have been invisible, but he clearly wasn’t some sort of ninja warrior.