by Inmon, Shawn
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, Peterson.”
“If I asked you to, could you pick the lock and gain entry to Peterson’s office?”
“Yes, sir, probably, but I wouldn’t.”
Hartfield took a deep breath, held it for a long moment, and then released it.
“All things considered, including the testimony of three senior boys, the strategy guide being found in your barrack, and given your abilities in the arcane world of picking locks and hotwiring cars, I have no choice but to rule in the Badger’s favor and declare them the winner of yesterday’s Hartfield Game.”
Considering all facts in evidence, you have made a mistake, sir.
“Michael, you can head off to class. Dominick, I need you to stay here.”
Michael snapped off a salute to Hartfield, laid a hand on Dominick’s shoulder and quietly said, “See you in class, Dom.”
As soon as Michael was gone, Hartfield said, “I spoke to your father this morning. He’s on his way here to pick you up right now.”
You old fraud. You already had your mind made up, so what was with the inquisition this morning?
“Lieutenant Brant has retrieved your suitcase from storage. I think it would be best if you packed your bag right now, while the rest of the Turtles are in class. Once you’re packed, you can wait for your father in the library.”
Dominick stood. No need for a salute. I’m no longer a cadet.
“Commander Hartfield?”
“Yes, son?”
“You’ve made a mistake. I hope you figure it out eventually. A lot of good came out of my time here at the Academy. I learned a lot. I hate leaving on such a sour note.”
Hartfield’s eyes narrowed. “If there’s more truth to be discovered, I believe we will find it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dominick let himself out.
Dominick took a last tour of Hartfield Academy. He walked past the buildings, onto the track where he had run laps for making Lt. Pusser so mad. He stood at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the wild Pacific a hundred feet below.
He was surprised to find tears running down his face. Goddamn it, I hate this. We did everything right, and we get screwed over. He took a deep, shuddering breath and held it. Nothing for it, though. Sometimes life just isn’t fair, and that’s the way it is. He turned his back to the ocean and took in the solid, brick buildings of Hartfield Academy. Gonna miss this place, though. Mostly the friends I made here. Two years ago, if someone had told me I would miss seeing a bunch of twelve year old kids, I would have said they were crazy. There’s something about going through this process, though, that creates brothers. I really am gonna miss those guys.
Dominick wiped his eyes and made his way to the Turtles barrack. His duffel bag sat on top of the footlocker at the very back. He looked down and realized that he was still wearing his uniform.
No need for that any more.
He quickly changed into his civilian clothes, threw his socks, underwear, and toiletries into the duffel.
Two and a half years here, and I can pack in sixty seconds. Is that good or bad?
The clock said it was only 8:55.
Should I hang out here, and say goodbye to the Turtles? He looked around at the neat rows of footlockers and metal bunk beds. Nah. I don’t think so.
He slung his duffel over his shoulder, walked back to the main building and sat down in the library, prepared for a long wait.
Shortly after 2:00, Joe Davidner pulled up in his old Ford. Dominick took one last look around, and hustled out to meet him. By the time the Ford pulled to a stop, Dominick was waiting for him. He opened the door and climbed in. Joe’s face was twisted in a knot of anger.
Uh oh. I should have figured on this.
“Dad, I’m sorry—“
“One question, Dominick, and be sure to tell me the truth. Did you cheat?”
“No, sir.”
Joe stared into his eyes for several long seconds, employing the unerring lie detector that many parents have. He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Then why are you so mad?”
Joe’s face softened. He cupped the back of Dominick’s neck and pulled him to him, kissing the top of his head.
“I’m not mad at you, Nicky.” He glanced furiously at the main building, where Hartfield’s office was. “I hate it when people make judgements about us based on our bank accounts. If we came from a snobby neighborhood, and I earned $30,000 a year, they would have dug a little deeper, and maybe found out what the truth is.”
Dominick’s throat grew thick again. Damn, it’s good to be believed.
“I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, Nicky.” Joe Davidner let go of his son, and found a small smile. “I think it’s for the best, anyway. I know you liked it here, but your mother and I have been wishing you were home, where you belong.”
I’m not sure where I belong, Dad, other than with Emily, and I can’t make that happen yet.
They pulled into the driveway back in Emeryville a little after 9:00.
Joe massaged his neck, and said, “One thing’s for sure. I won’t miss making that drive.”
“Thanks for coming to pick me up, Dad. Sorry you had to take a day off of work.”
“Forget about it. Let’s go inside and see if your mom managed to keep a plate of food away from Sam.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
There were adjustments in getting used to civilian life for Dominick. Seven days a week, his eyes flew open and his feet hit the floor at 6:00 AM. He had become accustomed to having every minute of his day scheduled. Where finding time to just be a kid was a challenge. More than anything, though, he missed the camaraderie he’d had with Michael, Will, and the rest of the Turtles.
But, starting the school year in the middle, and having been away more than two years, at least he wasn’t expected to remember where everything was. Vinny had moved away the summer before, but Wardell was still there, so he had someone to act as a guide for him.
Dominick had only been at the school for a few weeks when Christmas break arrived. By then, life had settled back into its normal rhythm, and Hartfield Academy had already begun to fade in his memory.
On New Year’s Eve, Joe and Laura decided to take the kids to a movie as a special treat. They went to see The Aristocats, which Dominick couldn’t remember seeing before.
I would have rather seen Gimme Shelter, but hey, don’t look the gift parents in the mouth.
As they walked back into the house after the movie, the phone started to ring. Joe looked at his watch, then exchanged a glance with Laura.
”Who in the world would call us this late?” Laura asked. She was the first in the door, and ran to the kitchen. She picked the phone up on the seventh ring.
Nice to have a clear conscience. I haven’t been in any fights, and haven’t stolen any cars. Maybe it’s Sam’s turn to be the juvenile delinquent in the family.
“Hello?” Laura said. Then, “Just a moment, please. Joe, it’s for you”
Joe handed Connie off to Laura, and picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
There was silence in the kitchen for a long time, punctuated only by Joe’s, “Mmm-hmm” or “I see.” Finally he said, “Thank you, Mr. Hartfield, but we are going to decline. We are moving out of state, as I’ve taken a job in New Mexico.”
Laura raised her eyebrows at Joe, who looked at her, smiled a little, and gave a quick shake of his head, along with a guilty shrug at the lie.
“Thank you. I understand that, but no. We’ll be keeping Dominick right here now. Goodbye.”
Dominick stood beside his mother. “Was that about me?”
Joe sat down at the kitchen table and ran his hands through his hair. “Yes, it was. That was Hartfield. He said he owed you an apology. Apparently, one of the boys who lied about you came clean and was expelled.”
Dominick nodded. “I knew it!” He said hotly. “I knew it would come out eventually. So, can I go
back now?”
Joe and Laura exchanged a glance. “Nicky, your mother and I talked about this. Even if they want you to go back, we don’t want you to go.”
“Why not?”
“Because we think you belong here with us. The only reason we let you go there in the first place was because we didn’t know what else to do.”
“You just didn’t want to pay my tuition,” Dominick said, and regretted it immediately.
Joe winced. “Nicky, you know that’s not true. If we thought it was best for you, we would have done anything to make it happen. Hartfield offered free tuition for the rest of the year as an apology. It’s not about the money. It’s about us wanting to be a real family again.”
“So I don’t get a vote, is that right?”
“I’m afraid that’s right. Your mother and I have to decide what’s best for you.”
“Ugh!” Dominick said in frustration. He turned and stomped down the hall to the bedroom he once again shared with Sam.
Part Two
Chapter Twenty-Five
Carrie watched Dominick storm off to his room in a rage.
There’s something about being in a child’s body, with all the restrictions of being a child, that makes people act like a child, no matter how old they really are.
She spun her pyxis clockwise and watched hours blend into days, into months, into years. The more she worked with it, the more it became part of her. She saw the normal array of events—happy and sad, boring and exciting. She saw nothing horrible for him in the next few years, but she still worried about him.
He’s not as social any more. More withdrawn than he was at the military school. She stopped for a moment and searched her memory. And he never notices the girls who are noticing him. He loves Emily, and doesn’t have eyes for anyone else. There’s something about her that no one else has, at least in his eyes.
“He loves her, whoever “she” is, and that’s the end of it. When love is the answer, it doesn’t matter what the question was.”
Carrie jumped guiltily. She had let her mind wander and wasn’t using the pyxis for its intended use—to feed the Machine.
“Hello, Bertellia. Nice to see you’re back.”
“Filled with a new training regimen, the more to torture you with. I notice that you were scanning ahead in that person’s life. Perfectly within the rules of your pyxis, but not one of the standard techniques used. May I ask why you were scanning his path ahead?”
Because I get bored just scooping up emotions? Because I can’t watch these people’s lives without coming to love them?
“I admit, I come to care about the people I look over. So I look ahead to see what will befall them.
“And if something ‘bad’ - by your definition - is going to happen to them, what do you do then?”
“It depends. Bad things happen in everyone’s lives, but if you broaden your perspective, it can turn out to be good. Say someone really wants to get a job promotion, and they miss out on it. That feels like a bad thing to them, but maybe that job would have been terrible for them in the long run, so missing out on it was really a good thing. That’s why I like to look ahead for years in their life and see how things might play out.”
“That’s very good. That’s a lesson I’ve been trying to reach you with for some time—perspective is everything. But, what do you do if you see something bad that, in your opinion, will continue to impact that person in a ‘bad’ way?”
Carrie glanced away, avoiding Bertellia’s eyes. She remembered altering the scene where the young boy ran over the old man across the street. Do I have to answer that question?
Chapter Twenty-Six
1977
Six and a half years had passed since Dominick had returned home from Hartfield Academy. The seventies proved not to be as turbulent as the sixties had been, but still, there was Watergate, the resignation of a President, the end of the Viet Nam War, not to mention the surging popularity of disco.
Dominick already knew that his second life would not necessarily mirror his first. After all, he hadn’t spent several years in a military academy the first time around. Also, in his first life, his father had developed esophageal cancer in 1975. Despite a number of surgeries, Joe Davidner had died in November, 1979.
In this second life, Joe still hadn’t developed the cancer.
Dominick stood in the middle of the bedroom he still shared with Sam, reflecting on his current life while getting dressed.
If I have to live my whole life over just to give Dad a chance at a longer life, that’s worth it. Until I factor Emily into the equation. I can’t help but wonder if she is still alive somewhere, somehow, grieving me, or cursing my name for doing what I always have done—acting without thinking. Or, is Emily here, too, living out her girlhood in Wisconsin, never having heard of me. Or both? There’s a reason I was an English major, not a theoretical physicist.
The boys had outgrown the bunk beds, so now the tiny room had two twin beds stuffed into the corners. Sam had graduated two years before, but had gone on to a trade school, and was now working as an apprentice electrician, a job Joe had managed to snare for him. He was earning money, but had showed no interest in leaving his mother’s cooking and laundry service. Still, he was ahead of where he had been in Dominick’s first life, when he had drifted from one minimum wage job to another, never finding an anchor.
Dominick slipped a tan turtleneck over his head, then picked the brown sports coat off the bed. I’ve gotten used to not having my cell phone or a computer, but these seventies fashions still knock me for a loop sometimes.
“Nicky, are you ready?” Laura called from the hallway. “We want to get there before all the parking spots are gone.”
“You know I can go on my own, Mom. I do have my own car, you know.”
“We are not letting you go alone to your own Baccalaureate.”
“Okay, Mom. I’m almost ready.” Dominick slipped on his brown loafers—picking from all ends of the brown color spectrum today—and grabbed a brush off the dresser. He looked in the mirror, started to pull the brush through his tangle of curls, but quickly gave up. He’d let his hair grow out in the years since leaving Hartfield Academy.
He still thought often of the friends he had made there, but he hadn’t been in contact with any of them. A month earlier, an envelope had arrived addressed to him, with “Please Forward” written above the address. It had been from Michael Hollister.
Hey Dom.
It was so weird having you just up and disappear that day. All this time later, we still talk about the way you stood up to Pusser to protect Will, and how you tried to take all the punishments for us for dyeing his underwear red. I still wonder what in the world we were trying to accomplish there, exactly?
I know we haven’t talked since you left, but I wanted you to know that the Turtles are graduating next month, on June 7th. Most of us made it to the end. 16 Turtles will be unleashed on the world to wreak havoc. We’d love it if you could make it here.
I don’t know if this letter will even reach you, but if it does, you need to know that being a Turtle is something that neither time, nor soap and a good scrubbing, can wash away. You’re with us for life – whether you like it or not.
Michael
Dominick toyed with the idea of driving up and attending. He knew the rest of the guys would be glad to see him, and he did have his own car—a ’67 Chevelle Super Sport that would have been the envy of all his middle-aged friends in 1999—and his own graduation would be over by then.
Dominick set the hairbrush down, gave himself one last inspection in the mirror, and hustled off to his Baccalaureate.
AFTER HIS GRADUATION from Emeryville High, Dominick decided to make the drive north and attend the Hartfield Academy graduation. At dinner that night, when he told his parents that he was driving up for the ceremony, they weren’t exactly enthusiastic.
“I understand you think it would be nice to see your friends, but you haven’t seen o
r spoken to them in years,” Joe said.
“Will you even have anything in common with them, now?” Laura chimed in.
“Besides,” Joe said, picking up the attack, “what did Hartfield Academy ever do for you?”
“They taught me a lot, Dad. They gave me a lot of discipline, and going there was good for me. Maybe you guys have forgotten what I was like, why you sent me there. Have I gotten into any trouble since I got back?”
Both Joe and Laura shook their heads.
Before they could speak, Dominick continued, “I know I haven’t seen them in a long time, but when we were young, we formed a bond. I think I need to bring it full circle. For closure, if nothing else.”
Two days later, Dominick got up at 5:00 AM, and was on the road by 5:30. The completion of Interstate 5 in the intervening years would have made for a faster drive, but Dominick took the old route, just for nostalgia’s sake.
The graduation was scheduled for 2:00 PM, and Dominick pulled his Chevelle onto the Hartfield driveway half an hour before that. As he drove around the circular drive, he noted a headstone neatly sitting between the two flagpoles. Wonder when they started burying people here on the Academy grounds? Did Hartfield kick the bucket or something?
He found a parking spot at the back of the overflow parking lot and walked over to where the ceremony was being held. A stage had been set up at the back of the lawn, with folding chairs in front, and temporary bleachers built on each side. The chairs were mostly empty, but the bleachers were filling up quickly. Dominick slipped into a spot at the back and sat down. No one had recognized him.
Soon, the Turtles filed in and took their seats at the front of the stage.
The graduation began right on time. I would have expected nothing less.
Commander Hartfield, a little older, grayer, and looking much thinner than Dominick remembered him, stepped to the podium and made his welcoming remarks.
He looks like he’s aged twenty years in the last five.
