Storm Forged

by Patrick Dugan

  Abby excused herself to go change. She came back with her new clothes on hangers, dressed in her normal clothes. Her hair and makeup remained though. Marcel dropped his textbook, then kicked it across the floor when he bent to pick it up. With a nervous giggle, he scampered over and retrieved the book. His eyes never left Abby.

  Mom hovered. I’m sure she wanted Abby to feel at home and make sure we behaved with a young lady in the house. “Abby do you need anything?” Mom asked for the tenth time.

  “No, Mrs. Ward,” Abby murmured. “Thank you so much for having me over. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt…” She trailed off.

  Mom wasted no time crossing over to kneel by Abby and hug her. Abby’s face was a jumble of conflicting emotions. The tough chick warred with the little girl who needed a mommy. She melted into my mom, wrapping her arms around her. Marcel and I headed to the kitchen so they could be alone. While we were there, we got snacks and soda, might as well accomplish something while we waited. We returned to the two of the talking quietly on the couch.

  Mom glanced over. “Alright, I’ve got work to do. Abby if need anything, honey, just ask. You are part of the family now.”

  Abby had tears standing in her eyes. “Thanks, Mrs. Ward…err…Mom.” I swear I heard a gulp at the end of it.

  Mom winked at her. “You two had better be nice to Abby, or else.”

  A chorus of “yes, ma’am” followed her from the room.

  Abby turned to us. “Tommy, your mom is awesome. I wonder what happened to you?”

  “What! I am the crowning achievement of her life,” I exclaimed indignantly. “I’m the best thing ever.”

  “You mean besides being a lawyer,” Abby said in a snarky tone.

  “And passing the bar at twenty-two,” Marcel added.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “And buys me pizza.”

  “Alright!” I yelled. “I get it. Are we studying for our English test or what?”

  They both laughed.

  “You forgot a great cook,” Mom yelled from the office.

  The laughter returned. I don’t know why I bother.

  We studied for a couple of hours before taking down the table and getting sleeping bags out and popcorn for movie night. Mom came in, ready for bed. “Abby, you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in Tommy’s room?”

  She shook her head, her ponytail flipping back and forth. “I’d rather hang here with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.”

  Marcel looked at me. “You’re Dum by the way.”

  I chose not to drop to his level; plus, I had a mouth full of popcorn.

  “Okay,” Mom said. “I’ll be in my room with the door open.”

  Abby grinned at her. “Mom, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  “Hmmm. Good night.”

  A chorus of “good night, Mom” followed her out.

  I had never had siblings, but it felt good not to be an only child for a little while.

  7

  School went a bit better after a couple of tough months assimilating Abby. Wendi said hello when she passed me in study hall. School would be ending for the summer this week, so three months away from Powell. Things looked up a bit. Who would have guessed I’m an optimist?

  Mr. Taylor had asked me to stay after to help him get his room packed up for the summer. Since the rain continued and Mom would be at work for hours, I decided to stay after detention to help Mr. Taylor pack his room. With only a handful of Gifted teachers at the school, the kids fared far better with them. They broke up fights, offered advice, and you could actually get better than a C in their classes. Mr. Taylor brought the stories we read to life, doing voices, pulling out little-known facts about the author. While I wasn’t a great student, I enjoyed learning about places and people I’d never get to see.

  About five-thirty, I headed for the front of the school. Mom should be there to pick me up on her way home.

  “Stop it, Chuck.”

  It sounded like Wendi’s voice, and only one Chuck went to the school. I heard laughing coming from the science wing.

  Brunner leered. “You want me, baby.” The school was empty, so his voice carried farther than he thought. “You Slag girls always want it, right Ryder?”

  “You know it, Chuck.”

  “She thinks she’s better than us,” Clint said. “You teach her good.”

  If Brunner and his gang of misfits hurt Wendi, I would kill them. I turned the corner at a dead run.

  “Let me go!” Wendi screamed.

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere until I get me some,” Brunner leered. I heard fabric tear and Wendi’s frightened sobs.

  Ryder and Clint stood off to the side. Ryder stood well over six feet, but he was stick thin, whereas Clint was short and dumpy. He wore heeled cowboy boots to make him appear taller, but it didn’t help. He still only came up to my shoulder, even if he did outweigh me by forty pounds.

  Ryder leaned on the locker, laughing. He resembled a depraved old man, rubbing his hands together and a gleeful smirk on his acne-pitted face. Clint, in his plaid shirt and camo baseball hat, had fallen straight off the turnip truck. Both egged Brunner on.

  They finally noticed the sound of me running down the hall. Clint and Ryder blocked me, shoving me back. I wasn’t heavy enough to bull past them. They laughed like lunatics, spit flying from Clint’s braces the whole time.

  “Look, your boyfriend wants to watch, Princess.” Brunner stepped behind Wendi, so I could see her.

  “Let her go, Brunner,” My teeth clenched as I strained to thrust past Brunner’s crew.

  “Why should I?” he asked. “Nuthins gonna happen to me. Who’d listen to a Slag anyway?”

  “Chuck.” If I could just get to Brunner, I would pound him. I wasn’t about to stand by and let him hurt Wendi. I never fought back, but that ended today. “Think about it. Fights in school are one thing, but this is a crime. The police will have to investigate it.”

  Brunner laughed. “You Slags are so stupid.”

  Wendi tried to pull away, but he had her around the waist. He tried to kiss her, but her head twisted away.

  “Ya see, Slag.” He sneered at me like I was a dumb puppy needing to be taught a lesson. “Powell says the day’s comin’ when we can do anything we want to you Mutts.”

  Ryder hissed. “Chuck, man, we ain’t supposed to talk about that none.”

  The look of realization of what he had told me dawned over the glacier of Brunner’s mind. He laughed a nervous laugh, glancing around to see if anyone else heard. “Don’t matter. They won’t be tellin’ nobody. Will ya, Tommy?”

  “You let Wendi go, and I’ll keep the whole thing to myself.”

  “Nah, gonna have some fun with her first.” He pulled her by her hair and kissed her full on the mouth.

  I know it sounds cliché, but everything went red. I kicked Clint in the knee. He howled in pain, and I ducked under Ryder’s attempt to subdue me. I slammed into Brunner’s side, forcing him to let go of Wendi so as not to fall. Wendi bolted, but Ryder snagged her as she tried to run by.

  Brunner was furious. He punched me in the mouth, a few times in the gut, and finished off with a kick to the groin for good measure. I fell like the prices at the bargain mart the day after Christmas.

  Brunner stood over me. He had lost it. His face flushed, the veins standing out on his forehead. “I’m gonna kill you! Nobody hits me!” His shriek would have made any schoolgirl proud.

  A calm voice floated down the hallway. “That’s enough, Mr. Brunner.”

  I looked up to see Mr. Taylor standing a few feet away. He had his arms crossed and an implacable expression. There was a note of authority in his voice that I had never heard before.

  Brunner’s head snapped around toward the sound. “What?” If foam had erupted from his mouth like a rabid dog, I wouldn’t have been surprised. “Taylor, this ain’t none of your business. Get lost before I call the squad on you.”

  “Mr. Brunner, step
away from Tommy. Mr. Hempt, please release Ms. Stevens.”

  Ryder’s hands dropped along with his jaw. Mr. Taylor was always timid, but not now. Confidence and power resounded in his tone.

  Clint put his hand roughly on Brunner’s shoulder. “Chuck, we need to be leavin’.”

  Brunner stood up, straightened his shirt. He strode over to Mr. Taylor and spit in his face. “You’ll get yours, but good, Slag.”

  Brunner cocked his head, and the twits followed him down the hall. Once they were out of sight, I tried to get up, only to be engulfed by Wendi.

  “Thank you so much, Tommy.” She hugged me so tight all the bruises ached at the same time, though it was totally worth it.

  “I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

  Mr. Taylor came over. “We need to get you out of here.” He handed me a white handkerchief. When I looked puzzled, he tapped his lips. I wiped my mouth and found Brunner had split my lip. “We do not speak about this to anyone.”

  I protested, but Mr. Taylor cut me off. “If it gets around what happened, Mr. Brunner will feel he needs to finish what he started.”

  “Okay, Mr. Taylor.”

  “I’ll take Wendi to The Institute, and you go out front. Your mom is waiting for you.”

  Mr. Taylor gently pried Wendi’s arms from around my neck and led her toward his classroom. I watched her go. Limping as I followed them, I cursed Brunner for the kick to the nuts. A low blow, even for Brunner. I hoped he hadn’t damaged anything.

  My backpack laid where I had dropped it at the entrance to the science wing. I slung it over my shoulder and move gingerly to where Mom waited to pick me up.

  I ran through the rain to the car, hiding how much running hurt, popped the door, and dropped in the front seat. I pushed my backpack between the seats while trying to keep my head down. Maybe in the dark, Mom wouldn’t see the fat lip I now owned.

  Being the fierce lioness protecting her cub, she spotted it right away. She turned my face to her, flipping on the inside light to get a better look. “That’s it,” she said. The car sat in park as she reached to undo her seatbelt. I’m not sure who she thought she would talk to since, other than a couple teachers and the janitors, the school stood empty. I grabbed her hand before the belt unclasped.

  “Mom, let me explain what happened.” I heard the panic in my voice and tried to calm myself. I could see she was upset, but I didn’t need a rampaging mom. “I need to invoke attorney-client privilege.”

  She didn’t move. I had never used that before, and she knew how serious it had to be for me to ask for it. Her hand left the seatbelt buckle. “Okay, I’m listening.” I told her everything, not leaving out any detail. I told her how upset Wendi was, how I couldn’t let them hurt her. I told her how humiliated I felt that Brunner’s thugs manhandled me so easily, how I wouldn’t have been able to protect Wendi if Mr. Taylor hadn’t come along. By the end, I cried my eyes out while my mom rubbed my back.

  When I finally calmed down, I told her Mr. Taylor told me to keep quiet about it. She didn’t love it, but she agreed. After a long time, we drove home. Mom took us for Fat Boy burgers on the way. I guess being a failed hero has some rewards.

  We talked about everything but what happened during school over dinner. Chewing wasn’t a lot of fun with a split lip and the inside of my mouth being cut. The ketchup on my burger was probably a mistake, one I’d remember not to make again.

  A troubled expression flashed across Mom’s face, but it disappeared an instant later. Her food sat growing cold, barely touched. The doorbell rang as I finished off my second burger having scraped off most of the acidic ketchup. Mom excused herself, setting her fries in front of me as she passed. Salt hurt almost as bad as ketchup, but I had worked up an appetite.

  The bell rang again as I heard the door locks clank and the screen door squeak. Mom spoke to someone, but the rain made it hard to make out the details. I had started to get up when Mom and Mr. Taylor turned the corner.

  I wish I could say I wasn’t surprised, but I can’t. In fact, I just about leapt out of my seat, something I only do when I forgot to put out the trash and Mom pulls in the driveway.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Susan, but I wanted to talk to you and Tommy.” His short brown hair dripped on the shoulders of his soaked coat. Rain poured down outside, though it should stop in a while.

  “Jack, you are welcome anytime. Let me take your coat. Let’s talk in the living room.”

  He handed her his coat and took a seat on the edge of the couch. I carefully settled myself on the floor. Mom came in, sitting in the armchair by the window. “So what brings you here on a dark and stormy night?”

  Mr. Taylor looked nervous. He wrung his hands in front of him. “Susan, I’m not sure if Tommy told you what happened after school?”

  “He did.”

  “I took Wendi back to her room. She was a bit shaken, but she wasn’t hurt.” I realized he had a piece of paper in his hands. “She gave me this.” He handed the paper to my mother.

  She took it, unfolded it, and read the contents. Her face went pale.

  I peered at the paper, attempting in vain to read it. “What is that?”

  “Tommy didn’t write this. It isn’t his handwriting.”

  “What didn’t I write?”

  Mr. Taylor let out a huge breath, relaxing a bit. “Susan, I am so relieved to hear that. I didn’t think it resembled his handwriting, but I had to ask.”

  “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?” I guess my Gift is invisibility because no one knew I sat in the same room.

  I got a full dose of the mom stare. You know the one, like when you fart in church or ask someone how old they are. I quickly closed my mouth.

  Mom handed me the sheet of slightly crumpled paper. It read.

  Wendi,

  I really need to talk to you. Can you meet me in the science wing at five? Please, don’t tell anyone, but it is very important.

  Tommy

  “I didn’t write this.”

  Okay, there are times in your life you just need to repeat the obvious. If it hadn’t been such a serious subject, I think they would have laughed at me. But instead I got.

  “Dear, we have already established this didn’t come from you.”

  “I guess Mr. Brunner slipped it to Wendi. He lured her to where no one would be.”

  “But, why from me? Wendi barely knows I’m alive.”

  Mr. Taylor’s jaw actually dropped. “Tommy, I think you might want to ask Wendi about that at some point.”

  I swear I didn’t mean to blush. It just happened on its own. Dating and my mom don’t mix, especially in my house. Time to change the subject. “Mr. Taylor, how much did you hear?”

  “Not much. I spoke up as soon as I saw the fight. Why?”

  “Brunner mentioned something about Powell telling him he could do what he wanted.” The whole thing was a bit fuzzy due to the repeated punching, but I knew he mentioned something along those lines.

  Mom’s face flushed. “Powell shouldn’t be allowed to teach after what happened to him.”

  “You mean how he was injured taking down Cyclone Ranger?”

  Mom and Mr. Taylor both laughed. “Tommy, is that what he told you?” Mom said.

  “Yeah, he tells it all the time.”

  Mr. Taylor raised his eyebrows. “I guess it is a unique way to remember it. Not highly accurate, but certainly unique.”

  “What do you mean?” Had Powell been lying to us the whole time?

  Mom held up her hand. “The real story you do not need to listen to tonight.” She shot Mr. Taylor a stern look.

  “But, Mom.” It came out a more of a whine than anything.

  “Tommy, it is time for bed. I’m sure Mr. Taylor probably wants to go while it’s not raining.”

  Mr. Taylor reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Tommy, what you did took a lot of guts. Things would have gone badly if not for you.”

  Things had gone badly, and Mr. Ta
ylor had stopped it. It wasn’t brave, just stupid. “Thanks, Mr. Taylor. Good night.”

  I tried to listen through my bedroom, but I couldn’t pick out their muffled voices. Can’t blame a guy for trying. The fact Powell wasn’t telling the truth about his glorious military past made me want to laugh. I couldn’t wait to discover the real story, well, if anyone would ever share it with me.

  I got ready for bed, but sleep didn’t want to come. It was easy for Mr. Taylor to tell me I had been brave, but they ran away from him, not me. Face it, who would be scared of me, a hundred and twenty pounds of wimp? Okay, a hundred and thirty pounds of wimp—I’ve finally started growing. My mother always called me her string bean, and fussy toddlers were afraid of them.

  I listened to the house getting quiet. The prospect of school in the morning made me feel like climbing a snow-covered mountain. One wrong step and you would plunge to your death. The good part was Wendi wouldn’t be retelling the story about how Brunner’s goons held me down without effort. I felt ashamed she had witnessed my humiliation.

  I wished I could be more like Mr. Taylor. He had been a hero, used his Gifts to protect people. He stood tall and strong, his collar a source of pride. Mine shouted to the world what a loser I was.

  Every ounce of me wanted to make Brunner pay, but I couldn’t handle him alone. The police turned a blind eye to crimes against Gifted people, but cause a problem and they’d cart you off to The Block before you could blink. Once imprisoned, you didn’t come back out. It wasn’t fair, but who said life was fair?

  Sleep finally came but filled by nightmares of Brunner hitting me while Wendi laughed. By the time the alarm sounded, I figured the worst had to be over.

  I would never be more wrong again in my life, not by a long shot.

  8

  The next morning, the rain had stopped, but the fog had rolled in. It fit my mood. After a night of little sleep and less peace, I didn’t want to go to school. We left earlier than usual since Mom had an early meeting. So, backpack in one hand and a Wild Berry Pop-Tart the other, we proceeded to school.