My mother said, “You two run in and see what’s up.”
I opened my door. “C’mon, Ostin.”
We ran up the stairs into the school’s main lobby but Taylor wasn’t there. We walked down to the gym. Inside, groups of cheerleaders were practicing stunts. I looked around but I couldn’t see Taylor. “Where is she, Ostin? Use your Tay-dar.”
“She’s not here,” he said.
“She has to be.”
“She’s not.”
Mrs. Shaw, the cheerleader advisor, was on the other side of the gym. I walked over to her. “Excuse me, Mrs. Shaw. Do you know where Taylor Ridley is?”
She looked up from her clipboard. “Taylor said she wasn’t feeling well, so she left early.”
“She walked home?”
“I don’t know. She might have called her parents.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Ostin and I walked out of the gym.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ostin said. “Why didn’t she call?”
Just then I spotted Taylor’s friend Maddie. She was wearing gym clothes and walking down the hall texting. I called out to her. “Maddie!”
She looked up and smiled. “Hi Michael. How are you?”
“Fine. Have you seen Taylor? It’s really important that I find her.”
“She left practice early. She had a really bad headache.”
“Did you see her leave?”
“Yeah.”
“How was she acting?”
“Well, she was upset because of her headache.”
“Was she alone?”
She looked at me with an idiotic grin. “I’m not telling on her.”
“This isn’t a thing,” I said. I looked at her phone. “Look, will you call her? Please.”
“She never answers her phone. I’ll text her.”
“Great. Just ask her where she is.”
“Sure.” She thumb-typed a message. Less than a minute passed before her phone buzzed. “She’s at home.”
I felt some relief. “Tell her I’m here to get her and ask if I should come over.”
She began typing. Her phone buzzed again. “She says she’s sorry she forgot to call. She’s not feeling well and will have to pass on tonight, but happy birthday.” She looked at me. “I didn’t know it was your birthday. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” I turned to Ostin. “At least she’s okay,” I said.
We walked back to the car and climbed in. My mom looked confused. “Where’s Taylor?”
“She went home early,” I said. “She had a headache.”
She looked as disappointed as I felt. “That’s too bad. Maybe next time.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Man Who Wore Sunglasses at Night
None of us spoke much as we drove downtown. I have to admit that Taylor’s absence had dulled my excitement. I think even Ostin was upset.
When we got to the aquarium my mother looked at me and smiled sadly. “Let’s have a good time, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Even though it was a weekday, the aquarium was running a Family Night Special so the place was crowded. The busiest exhibit by far was the sharks, with their unblinking eyes and their teeth bared beneath them, gliding through the water just inches from the tank’s glass, as if death were only a few inches away from you. I suppose that’s how I felt about everything right now, as if something bad was circling just inches away, waiting to bite. I soon discovered that Ostin was feeling the same way.
“Do you think Taylor’s safe?” he asked me.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think we are?”
“Not if she isn’t.”
It was hard keeping my mind on the exhibits. The three of us wandered over by the electric eels. Electrophorus electricus are ugly creatures with little holes in their skin as if they’d all grown up with a bad case of acne. There were three eels in the tank and the largest was about six feet long with a dark gray back and an orange under-belly. There was a voltage meter connected to the outside of the tank with a red needle that occasionally bounced around as the eels sent out surges. Out of curiosity I slid my hand over to the metal corner of the tank and pulsed a little. The voltage meter jumped with my charge. Then, to my surprise, the eels in the tank all swam to me. I turned back to see if my mother had seen this but she was looking through her purse. As I looked at her I wondered if I should tell her about Taylor and my invitation to the academy. I wasn’t even sure where to start. A few minutes later I walked over to her.
Before I could say anything, Ostin said to my mother, “Did you know that electric eels are not really eels?”
“Really,” she replied, no doubt prepared for Ostin’s upcoming monologue. My mother always looked genuinely interested in what Ostin had to say, which was probably one of the reasons he had a crush on her—which, by the way, still grossed me out.
“They’re a species of gymnotiformes, also known as knife fish. Biologically, they’re closer to the carp or catfish than the eel. And they breathe air, so they have to come to the surface every ten minutes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“They are at the top of the food chain, which means they have no natural predators. In fact, even a baby electric eel can paralyze an al-ligator with its shock.”
I knew most of this already. For obvious reasons, I had always taken great interest in electric eels. When I was nine I used to write
“EEM”—secret for “Electric Eel Man”—on the corners of my papers, as if it were my secret identity. Still, I let Ostin talk. I think he would explode if he didn’t.
“They’re basically a living battery. Four-fifths of their body is used in producing or storing electricity. They can produce a charge up-wards of six hundred volts and five hundred watts, which is powerful enough to be deadly to a human. Though some experts claim they’ve produced up to eight hundred volts.”
“I’d hate to take a bath with one,” she said smiling.
“Or give a bath to one,” I said.
She looked at me and grinned. When I was three years old I ac-cidentally gave her a shock while she was bathing me. It knocked her over. It was pretty much showers after that.
“Eels use their electric shock to stun or kill their prey, but they can also use low voltage like radar to see in murky waters. It’s called electrolocation.”
“Sounds like electrocution,” I said.
“Not the same thing.”
“Speaking of eating,” my mother said, “is anyone getting hungry?”
That was one way of shutting Ostin up. “Is that a trick question?”
he asked.
“I’m hungry,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “I’m starving. Off to PizzaMax.”
The pizzeria wasn’t actually called PizzaMax. Its real name was Mac’s Purple Pig Pizza Parlor and Piano Pantry, which is as dumb as it is long, but they have awesome pizza. My mother and I ate there the first week we lived in Idaho, and a few weeks later when she asked me where I wanted to eat, I only remembered the Mac’s part.
The name stuck.
We ordered six pieces of cheesy garlic bread, an extra-large Mac’s Kitchen Sink pizza, which has every thing you could imagine on it (except anchovies—gross!), and a cold pitcher of root beer.
While we were eating, my mom asked me, “What do Taylor’s parents do?”
“Her dad is a police officer. Her mom works at a travel agency.”
My mom nodded. “She’s a really nice girl. I hope she comes around again soon.”
“I hope she does too,” I said.
“Still like your watch?” my mother asked. I think she just wanted to see me smile again.
I held up my arm so she could see that I was wearing it. “Love it.”
I could tell this made her happy. She looked into my eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You’re kind of quiet tonight.”
I was
never very good at hiding things from my mother. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Are you still upset about Taylor?”
I shrugged. “A little.”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “Things don’t always go as planned, do they? But in the end they seem to work out.”
“I suppose so,” I said. I hoped so.
We had been at PizzaMax for nearly an hour when Ostin excused himself to go to the bathroom. My mother smiled at me, then slid around the vinyl seat of our booth to get closer.
“Honey, what’s wrong? You’re really ticking.”
I slowly looked up at her. “Mr. Dallstrom called me down to his office today.”
Her brow fell. “Oh. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I got offered a scholarship.”
A broad smile crossed her face. “What kind of scholarship?”
“It’s to this really prestigious school in California.”
“Michael, that’s wonderful. What’s the name of the school?”
I was relieved to see her happy. “The Elgen Academy.”
Her smile immediately vanished into a look of fear. “Did you say Elgen?”
Her expression frightened me. “Yeah.”
“In Pasadena?”
“How did you know that?” I asked.
She turned pale, like she was going to be sick.
“Mom, what is it?”
“We need to go,” she said, her voice quivering. “We need to get Ostin and leave now.”
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you here . . .” She looked me in the eyes, her eyes dark with fear. “Michael, there’s more to this than you know. Your father . . .”
Just then Ostin returned. “I’m ready for another frosty mug of root beer,” he said.
I looked up at him. “We’ve got to go,” I said.
“Right now?”
“Right now,” my mother said. “Something’s come up.”
It was dark outside when my mother paid the bill. We were walking out to the car when Ostin said, “Wait. I forgot my jacket.”
“Hurry,” my mom said to him as he turned to run back inside. “I’ll pull up front.” We continued walking to the car.
My mother was unlocking our car door when a man appeared between our car and the truck next to it. His clothes were dirty and worn and his face was partially cloaked in a dark gray hoodie. He said to my mother, “Excuse me, do you have a dollar?”
My mother looked at him, then said, “Of course.” My mother always helped others. She lifted her purse.
When my mom’s head was down the man pulled a gun from the hoodie’s pouch. “Just give me the purse.”
My mother dropped her keys on the ground.
“Okay,” she said, her voice pitched. “You can have it. You don’t need the gun.”
“Shut up!” he said. “Just give it to me and shut your mouth. If anyone screams I shoot.”
“Don’t talk to my mother like that,” I said.
He pointed the gun at me. He looked nervous and was shaking.
“I’ll shoot you first.”
“Please,” my mother said, “just take the money.” She handed her purse to him. “Just take it. There’s credit cards and cash, you can have it all.”
He cautiously reached out and took the purse from her, the gun still shaking in his hand. He backed off again. “I want the car too,” he said. “Give me your keys and back away.”
“I dropped the keys,” my mother said. “They’re right there. I’m going to pick them up.”
“You don’t move,” he said, pointing the gun at my mother’s chest.
“You,” he said to me, “give me the keys.”
I looked at him, then my mother.
“Bring them to me now and I won’t shoot your mother.”
“Okay,” I said. I crouched down and lifted the keys, then slowly walked toward him. About a yard away from him, I turned back and looked at my mother.
“What are you doing?” he said angrily. “Give me the keys.”
My mother guessed what I was thinking. She shook her head.
I looked back at the man. Maybe I had watched too many super-hero movies, but if ever there was a moment to use my power it was now. I could stop him from taking our car and my mother’s purse. I was handing him a ring of metal. All I had to do was surge.
I took another step forward, then slowly reached out with the keys. His hand shot out and grabbed them. The instant he touched the ring there was a loud snap and a yellow spark that briefly lit up everything around us. The man screamed out as he collapsed to the ground. There was a pale mist of smoke in the air from the shock.
For a moment it seemed that time stood still. I looked at my mother, wondering how she’d react. She was staring at the man on the ground. The silence was broken by a man’s voice.
“Well done, Michael.”
I quickly turned around. I have no idea where he came from, but a man was now standing just a few yards from us. He was sharply dressed in a tan suit with an orange silk tie. Even though it was dark, he wore thick-framed sunglasses. His hair, dark brown with sideburns, was nicely styled. He looked at the man on the ground, then back up at me, and lightly clapped. “Really, that was impressive.
What was that—nine hundred, a thousand volts?”
I looked at my mother, then back at him anxiously.
“Who are you?” my mother asked.
“A friend, Sharon. A friend and an admirer of Michael’s. And his gift.” My mother and I exchanged glances. “Yes,” he said smiling, “I know all about it. As a matter of fact, I know more about it than you do.”
Just then the thief groaned and I looked down at him. He was struggling just to lift his head. As I watched him, anger flooded through my body. If I had ever wondered if my electrical powers were somehow connected to my emotions, there was no doubt of it now as I felt power surging through me like I had never felt before.
I looked down at my hands. Electricity was sparking in blue arcs between my fingers, something I’d never experienced before.
“It’s an emotional reaction,” the man said. “Fear, anger, hate—the powerful stuff causes your nervous system to react. It’s peculiar isn’t it? Normal people respond with adrenaline—but special people like you react electrically.”
My mother put her hand on my arm. “Michael, we need to go.”
I didn’t move. “How do you know all this?” I asked.
The man took a step forward. “Michael, we’ve been looking for you for a long, long time . . . almost since you were born.”
“Michael,” my mom said.
“Why?” I asked.
“To reunite you with the others.”
“Others?”
“You’re not alone, Michael. There’s more of your kind than you think. More than just your friend Taylor.”
His mention of Taylor made me feel even more confused.
“I’d like to introduce you to some of them right now. Behind you is Zeus.”
Suddenly a young man was standing next to my mother. He was good-looking but unkempt. He had long, greasy, blond hair and wore a Levi’s jacket with the sleeves cut off and no shirt underneath. Even though he was only my age he had a tattoo on his chest of a lightning bolt. My mother looked at him anxiously.
“And this is Nichelle.”
A young woman stepped up behind the man. She wore black clothing and dark, thick makeup, mostly black or dark purple, the way the Goth kids do. Both kids looked about my age, though Zeus was taller than me.
“Zeus, show Mrs. Vey what you can do.”
He smiled darkly. “Glad to.” He lifted his hands and electricity flew from his hands to my mother in blue-white strikes. My mother screamed and collapsed just like the man I had just shocked.
“Mom!” I dropped to the ground with her, cradling her head in my arms. “Why did you do that?” I shouted angrily.
“She’ll be okay,” the
man said. “It just took the wind out of her.”
My eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “Who are you?”
“I’m your friend,” the man said softly. “Nichelle?”
The girl started toward me. As she approached I noticed that the Zeus guy took a few steps back, as if he were afraid of her.
As the girl neared me I started to feel different. Everything was out of place, the man, the two kids, my mother on the ground, it was all like a bad dream. I felt weaker. The electricity stopped arcing between my fingers. Then I began to feel dizzy. I looked at the girl and she looked into my eyes with a strange, emotionless stare. I couldn’t make sense of any of it—who these people were and why they were there. More importantly, what they wanted with us.
With each step the girl took toward me, my dizziness increased.
Then my head began to pound like a bass drum. I put my hand on my forehead as my vision began to blur.
“Take it easy on him, Nichelle,” I heard the man say. “He’s not used to it.”
Suddenly I heard Ostin’s voice, blending into what seemed like a collage of other sounds. I looked down at my mother. She was still, but gazing at me. I saw her lips move but I couldn’t hear her.
I couldn’t hear anything other than the loud buzzing in my ears. I think she said I love you. It seems like that’s what she said. It’s the last thing I remember before passing out.
Chapter Sixteen
Gone
When I woke I was in a bed with aluminum side rails. I was lying beneath clean, white sheets and there was an IV taped to my arm. I felt as if I had been drained of all my energy and every joint of my body ached, throbbing like a bad toothache. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light above me. I groaned out, as if expulsing a nightmare. Ostin appeared at my side.
“Michael?”
I turned my head toward him. He was standing in front of closed blinds that glowed from the daylight behind them. Next to him were his mother and father. Ostin’s father was in charge of maintenance for the county’s parks and recreation, so he was rarely home. I was surprised to also see him in the room.
My tongue stuck to my dry mouth and it was difficult to speak.
“Where am I?”
Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25 Page 10
