“There's something ... Oh!” He knew what it was. Or he thought he knew. He hoped. “Please, oh please, oh please,” he said as he dug the smooth ball out of the mud.
“What? What is it?” David said.
He felt it break free, made sure he had it firmly in his hand, afraid it would drift away, afraid it would be gone like the bobcat in his dream. He paused a moment, wondering if this was a dream, felt the cool water soaking his thighs, his ribs, the seat of his pants, confirming it wasn't. He pulled the sphere out of the hole.
“Oh my god!” David said.
Jeff held it close to his face. It was ... navy blue? It was hard to tell in the tunnel. Navy blue was Athletic. Or was it Good Whistler? Good Whistler. Not rare, but still, it was a sphere. He'd found a sphere in the wild. Jeff sloshed out of the tunnel, into daylight. He rinsed the sphere in the stream, spinning it around, rubbing the caked mud off the bottom half.
“What color is it?” David said, leaning in. “Navy blue? That's Good Whistler, isn't it? I can't believe you found one. I can't believe it.”
Jeff looked close. “Is it navy blue? It's almost. But isn't it a little darker than navy? And a little purpler?” He'd seen many navy blues on display at the charm store.
“Let me see,” David said. Jeff handed it to him. David held it up to the light, turned his head from side to side. “It's got to be navy. What other color would it be? It's not plum. It's got to be navy.” David handed it back to him, let out a squeal of ragged excitement.
They charged up the bank and ran home, with Jeff holding the sphere high, shouting “look what I found!” to everyone they passed. He charged up the staircase to his apartment, shouting for his mom at the top of his lungs.
She burst through the door, looking alarmed, then relaxed when she saw he was okay. “I thought you were hurt!” she said.
“Look! Look what I found!” He held out the sphere. Mom's eyes got big.
“Oh my god!” She took it, held it cradled in both hands. “Where did you find it?”
“In the brook tunnel,” David said.
Mrs. Massey, the old lady from the apartment across the hall, came out, brushing aside a fallen pizza parlor flyer with her foot. “Oh, dear,” she said. “What have you got there?”
“Is it navy blue?” mom asked, her eyebrows knotting.
“I don't know,” Jeff said. “I don't think it is.”
“But what is it then?” mom said.
“I don't know,” Jeff said.
“It's got to be navy blue,” David said.
Mrs. Massey squinted at it. “I don't think that's navy.”
“Hold on,” Mom said. She disappeared into the house, came out carrying her keys. “The charm store is open until seven. They'll know.”
“Can I come with you?” David asked.
“Go tell your mother where you're going first,” Mom said. David took off down the stairs, his bony knees bobbing.
He was standing by their car, breathing hard, by the time Jeff and his mom got down the stairs and out the door. David was fast.
The bell jingled on the charm store door as Jeff pushed it open. He approached the counter with David at his elbow. His mom hung back by the door. The charm guy was at the far end, unpacking staffs from a long box, a cigarette in his mouth.
“Excuse me,” Jeff said.
The charm guy pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled smoke. “What can I do for you, sport?”
“Could you tell me what color this sphere is?” He held it up.
The charm guy opened his mouth to answer, closed it. He squinted at the sphere, looking puzzled. “Let me see it.”
The guy looked at it closely, scratched at it with a fingernail, then put it down.
“You found this in the wild?” he asked.
“Yup. Underwater, in a tunnel,” Jeff said.
The guy squatted behind the counter, brought out a big spiral-bound notebook and opened it on the counter. The laminated pages had rows and rows of colors. With practiced ease he rolled Jeff's sphere across the rows on a page of blues, testing it against the different shades and hues. He stopped on one that matched perfectly, and read the text below it.
“Is it a good one?” David asked.
The guy nodded. “Yeah, it's a good one.” He looked up at Jeff. “Tell you what. Give you four hundred for it.”
His mom and David both screamed with excitement. Jeff couldn't speak. His heart was hammering, the words echoing over and over in his head. Give you four hundred for it.
Mom grabbed his shoulders and shook them. “I can't believe it. I just can't believe it.”
“What does it do?” Jeff asked the charm guy.
He retrieved his cigarette, took a puff. His hand was shaking. “I don't know,” he said. Smoke drifted out of his nose.
Jeff looked at his mom. He didn't know? That's how he made his living.
“What do you mean? What does it say in the book?” Jeff asked.
“It doesn't say. Look, I'll give you five hundred,” he said. “That's a very fair price.”
“Can we look at the book?” his mom asked.
The guy swept the book off the counter. “This is dealer-only information. I can't share it with anyone. But I can tell you it's rare, and I'm offering you a fair price for it.”
Jeff took the sphere off the counter. “I'm not ready to sell it yet. I just wanted to know what color it was.” He turned toward the door.
“Hold on,” the charm guy said. “Look, I'm not supposed to share dealer information with you, but I'm going to do you a favor.” He raised his finger. “I hope you'll remember that when you decide to sell it.”
Jeff nodded.
“What you have here is a midnight blue. I don't know what it does because nobody knows what it does, because until now there was only one known sphere in existence, to go along with one staff. You found the rarest sphere on Earth.”
Jeff looked at his mom. Her mouth was open wide, her face frozen. David looked like he just stuck his finger in a light socket.
They all started to jump up and down and scream at the same time.
They thanked the charm guy and ran to the car. Jeff couldn't wait to tell every single person he knew.
* * * *
Jeff raised his hand as soon as Mrs. Pardo settled the class down. He begged her to let him do a Show and Tell, even though they weren't supposed to have Show and Tell today. After a few heartfelt “pleases,” she relented. Jeff sprung from his desk and went to the front of the class. He leaned against the blackboard, hands behind his back and began to tell them about the sphere he found.
“Where is it?” Kim asked from her seat in the front row.
“My mom brought it to the bank this morning and put it in a safe deposit box. She said it was too valuable for me to bring to school.”
“Yeah, right,” Cindy said. “You're such a liar.”
“I am not!” Jeff said. “I found a Midnight Blue, the rarest sphere on Earth! It's mine, and it's in the bank.”
“Jeff, are you sure?” Mrs. Pardo said. “I'm sure you're not lying,” she shot Cindy a look, “but maybe you're mistaken about the color?”
There was a knock on the classroom door. Mr. Mannino, the principal, stepped into the classroom in his white shoes. He always wore white shoes. “Mrs. Pardo, can I see Jeff Green for a minute, please?”
Jeff headed for the door.
“I understand you found something pretty exciting yesterday,” Mr. Mannino said.
“That's right,” Jeff said. “A midnight blue.” He glanced at Cindy and Kim. He wanted to drink in this moment. Both of them were staring at their desks, trying not to look jealous.
“That's marvelous.” Mr. Mannino said. Jeff followed Mr. Mannino down the hall, not sure what to say. He'd never talked to the principal before; he was surprised Mannino knew what he looked like.
“Your mom is here to get you,” Mr. Mannino said. “Some people want to talk to you.” Mannino looked at J
eff, smiled. “Do you realize what you've got?”
“I don't know. I guess so.” They passed a water fountain. Jeff was dying to get a drink, but felt funny about making the principal wait.
He spotted his mom through the glass wall of the office. She waved, met him at the door. She gave him a big hug.
“The phone's been ringing off the hook since eight-thirty,” she said. “A man from the New York Times wants to interview you, and a girl from The Journal News. And a collector called. He wants to buy the sphere, he said he'll make you a very good offer.” She squeezed Jeff's hand. “This is so exciting. Oh—” she pulled a piece of yellow paper out of her purse, “and you got a telegram.”
“A telegram,” Mr. Mannino said. “Wow!”
Jeff looked at the slip of paper.
Very interested in making offer on your sphere. DO NOT SELL before talking to me! Carl Cornelius. 011-221-343-9988. Call me collect.
There was a TV news van waiting outside their apartment. Jeff answered questions into a microphone with a camera pointed at him and the sphere his mom had retrieved from the safe deposit box, then went upstairs to do interviews with the newspaper reporters. He had pictured the New York Times guy wearing a suit with a fedora, but the guy had long red hair and a beard. The girl from the local Journal News was in her twenties and pretty, with short brown hair and big round eyes. Jeff felt a little tongue-tied during that interview. The phone rang the whole time. Mom took messages. After the girl from the Journal News left, Jeff told his mom he wanted to go to his room for a while before he started calling people back. His head was spinning; he needed time to think.
He settled into the stuffed chair by the window—his favorite spot. He put the sphere in his lap, set aside the book he'd checked out of the school library before coming home. His baseball cards—all of his best Mets—were propped along the paint-chipped window sill, next to a stack of Marvel comics and an old-fashioned photo of his grandfather singing in a bar, his arms spread and his face pointed toward the ceiling. Everyone got to have powers of some sort back then. Now only rich people did.
He opened the book, Charm Champs, and leafed through, reading the picture captions. Only twenty-seven complete hot pink Flyers had ever been found, and all but two had now been absorbed. Eighteen of the people who had absorbed them were dead. There was a picture of one of the guys who was still alive—a billionaire who owned an oil company, who also had Skin That's Hard to Puncture, Dulled Pain, Enhanced Sight, Taste, and Smell, and See in the Dark. The guy had quit his oil business and flew around rescuing people all day, like a superhero.
Jeff picked up his sphere, ran his thumb along the smooth curve. What did it do, he wondered? Usually the rarer the charm, the cooler the power, so what power would you get from the rarest charm of all? Would you live forever, or at least a very long time? Or cure sick people just by touching them?
Why did rich people always get to absorb them? The Cindys and Kims and their parents, who spent their lives rubbing it in that they had powers and you didn't. It wasn't fair. Maybe he should leave his sphere in the safe deposit box, and once he was out of school he would work hard and save as much as he could, until he had enough money to buy the other two parts of the charm. Why shouldn't he get to have a power?
If he sold the sphere, he'd have enough money to buy a few powers. But not the midnight blue power. Not the best power in the world.
Even if he never got the other two parts of the Midnight Blue charm, if he kept it, there would always be something special in his life. He would be the guy who owned the midnight blue. Maybe he could be on the Johnny Carson show, and tell the story of how he found it while Johnny held it.
He put the book on his bed and went back into the living room.
“Mom? What if I decided not to sell it? What if I held on to it for a while?”
She was making egg salad for dinner. She stopped, put down the fork. “It's up to you, Jeff. You found it, and no one can tell you what to do with it.”
He thought about that. “But if you wanted me to sell it, I would.”
“I want you to do whatever makes you happy. If you decide to keep it, you can always sell it later.” She spooned a dollop of mayonnaise into the egg salad. “But I think you should at least hear what these people are offering, so you know what your options are.”
“True.” Jeff glanced at the kitchen clock. School would be out in twenty minutes. “I'll call them back tonight after dinner.”
He left the sphere with his mom so she could return it to the safe deposite box, then went outside and sat on the stoop until the bus pulled up.
“Hey, there's Jeff !” Ricky shouted. “Hey, Jeff !” Everyone headed toward him.
They asked him how much he was going to get for the sphere, and if he was going to be on TV, and where he found it, and if he would give them some money. Jeff felt like a movie star.
“Show us where you found it. Do you think there might be more in there?” Craig Alemi said. Craig was in fifth grade.
“I felt around pretty good in there—I don't think there are any more. But I'll show you the spot.” Jeff stood, brushed off the seat of his pants.
“Look!” David said, pointing in the air.
A man flew by, skimming the treetops.
Jeff had never seen a person flying before, except on TV. What was weird about it was that he made no sound at all; he just drifted by, passing over the parking lot until he disappeared over the rooftops.
“Wow. Cool,” David said.
“He must be looking for you, Jeff,” Ricky said.
“Me?” Jeff said. “Why?” Then it fell into place. If the guy could fly, he was rich. He was here to buy the sphere. Of course. Jeff's heart began to thud.
A moment later, the guy appeared again, slowed, landed in the grass right beside them. Jeff recognized him—the billionaire in Charm Champs who had absorbed all those great charms. He was tall, with blonde hair (neatly parted despite the flying), an overly square jaw, and big white teeth. It wasn't listed in the book, but Jeff would bet that he'd absorbed a viridian Better Looking.
“Would one of you boys be Jeff Green?” he said.
Three or four kids pointed at Jeff. They stared at the flying man like he was Mickey Mantle.
“Hello, Jeff. I'm Carl Cornelius. I sent you a telegram this morning?” He was wearing a shiny tan jumpsuit with a “V” shaped collar. It wasn't a superhero costume, but it wasn't what men around Jeff's town wore, either.
“Oh, yeah.” Jeff pulled the crumpled telegram out of his pocket and held it up. It would never have occurred to him in a million years that it was from the guy in the book. He was uneasy about this. He didn't want to be intimidated into selling the sphere, and this man seemed like the kind who could be pushy.
“Do you have any other powers?” Ricky asked.
“I sure do,” Cornelius said. He looked around, picked up a bottle lying near the stoop, shattered it against the apartment building's brick wall and retrieved a jagged shard of glass. “Careful now,” he said, handing it to Ricky.
Cornelius held out his arm, palm up. “Go ahead and try to cut me with it.”
Ricky didn't hesitate—he dragged the nasty-looking piece of broken glass across Cornelius's forearm.
It left a little pink mark, nothing more. The kids oooh'd and aaah'd.
“Can I have a ride?” David asked.
Cornelius cocked his head and considered. “Maybe I have time for one. Then I've got business to discuss with my friend Jeff here.” He lifted David under the arms and flew straight up, then around the band of pine trees out near Stephens Road. David was laughing his “this is fun but scary” laugh, usually reserved for when the carnival hit town and for sledding on the steep part of Lucille Hill.
Cornelius put David down, ruffled his hair, and turned to the kids congregated on the sidewalk. There were about twenty of them now, kindergarteners to high schoolers. “That's all for now, kids.” A series of disappointed groans lit the air. C
ornelius raised his hands. “I may have time for a few more rides after I've spoken with Jeff.” He turned to Jeff. “Can we talk inside?”
“Sure,” Jeff said. He led him into the hallway.
“I just flew in from Ireland,” Cornelius said as they climbed the stairs. “When you didn't respond to my telegram, I thought it best that we talk face to face.”
“I don't mind talking, but I don't think I want to sell the sphere,” Jeff said. “No offense, but I think I should let you know that now.”
Jeff led Cornelius into their apartment, introduced him to his mother. Cornelius didn't want coffee. The three of them sat in the living room, Jeff and his mom on the couch and Cornelius in the rocker across from them.
Cornelius and his mom talked for a few minutes about raising kids, then Cornelius remarked that Jeff seemed like a terrific boy, and Jeff's mom agreed that he was. Then Cornelius turned to Jeff.
“So Jeff, you were saying outside that you weren't sure you wanted to sell the sphere. Can you tell me why?”
Jeff looked at his hands. It was unpleasant to look Cornelius in the eye—his eyes drilled right into you. “I don't know, I just want to hold on to it.” He shrugged. “Maybe one day I'll have enough to buy the whole charm.”
“How old are you, Jeff ?”
“I'll be twelve in June.”
“The thing is, Jeff, I own the other two pieces of that charm. I can't foresee a situation where I would ever sell them.” Cornelius looked at his mom. “Mrs. Green, would you mind if I talked to your son alone?”
Jeff's mom looked at Jeff. He shrugged. He didn't want her to leave, but he felt uneasy saying so.
“I'll be in the kitchen. Jeff, you call me if you want me.” Jeff nodded, and his mom went the ten steps into the kitchen area where she could probably still hear what they were saying.
“Jeff, I'm forty-four. That's only about thirty years older than you, and I plan to live a long time.”
Jeff wondered if Cornelius somehow already knew what the charm did. It probably did make you live longer.
“So if you don't sell me the sphere, it's not going to do you much good. And I guarantee you, nobody is going to offer you more for that charm than me. Do you believe that, Jeff ?”
Asimov's SF, September 2008 Page 14
