A Pair of Docks

by Jennifer Ellis

  Dozens of entries popped up on the screen, with the acronym ‘B.Ed.’ highlighted.

  “Oh, great. It can’t differentiate between B.Ed and Bed,” said Simon. “That’s really useful. Stupid programmers.”

  Caleb scrolled through the listings looking for any name that began with bed or truck, but aside from one ‘Bedwin’, nothing jumped out.

  Caleb moved the mouse toward the back button on the browser. “Maybe it’s an automotive repair shop.”

  “Wait!” said Abbey pointing. “I’ve seen that name before. Dr. P. Ford, Department of Computer Science. He was in a picture at Mantis’s office. Ford, Truck. Dr. Ford, B.Ed.”

  “Let’s call him then.” Caleb pulled out his phone and punching in the number.

  “Wait,” said Abbey. “What are you going to say?”

  Caleb shrugged, already letting the call ring through. “I’ll ask him if he’s the Guardian. If he’s not, then he’ll think it is just a crank call.”

  “Hi, Doctor Ford. My name is Caleb Sinclair. I live on Coventry Hill Crescent. Mrs. Forrester gave us your name. We’re looking for the Guardian.” There was a pause while Caleb listened. And then. “We can. At the college. Room two seventy-three in the Horton Building. Got it. We’ll be there in about forty minutes.”

  Caleb clicked the end-call button on his cell phone. “It’s him. He’s expecting us. Mrs. Forrester told him about us. But not our names.”

  “How do we know it isn’t a trap?” Abbey let the panic sweep up and around her.

  “There’s four of us. He sounds like an old man and we’re meeting him in his office. He’s not going to abduct us in an office building. The next bus leaves in thirty minutes. Let’s go.”

  Abbey let herself be swept along outside into the now-glaring afternoon sun. The crowd in the stadium chanted their ridiculous school cheer. “Coventry Cats, Coventry Cats. They know where it’s all at.” The hoots and bleeps of the school band could be heard through the melee. Mark turned abruptly at the noise and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction. Simon trotted after him, calling his name.

  “I’m going to go find Becca and Kimmie. Say hi. I need to clear my head,” Abbey said.

  Caleb stared at her quizzically for a few seconds and then shrugged. “Okay, we’ll meet you at the bus stop. I’ll go help round up our charge,” said Caleb, gesturing toward Mark.

  Kimmie’s turquoise coat wasn’t hard to locate in the crowd. Both girls were amped up, and greeted Abbey with hugs and squeals.

  “Becca’s new boyfriend is so hot,” said Kimmie, her broad smear of coral lipstick so askew it threatened to leap off her lips. “He’s in the dugout right now, but he’s up next.”

  Abbey eyed the row of teenage boys in red and gray. Their features were indiscernible in the gloom of the visitors’ dugout. Rebecca stared at the dugout with the dreamy expression of a besotted girlfriend.

  The batter at the plate swung wildly at the ball, topping it and driving it into the ground in front of the pitcher. It bounced up almost directly into the pitcher’s mitt. The pitcher threw it to first before the batter arrived and the crowd went crazy.

  “Jake never hits grounders. He always hits flies. He’s the best batter on their team,” said Becca with a sigh. “He already qualified for some big baseball scholarship. He’s the best player around. He’s so cute, too.”

  Abbey retrained her eyes on the field. The red batting helmet obscured Jake’s face. He took a few practice swings, aiming low. Trying to put bottom spin on the ball, she thought. Balls hit on the underside would have backspin, creating an upward Magnus force, which would oppose gravity and keep the ball in the air longer, resulting in a long fly ball. The bat cracked against the ball. The ball soared over the infielders’ heads, deep into right field where the sun would block the fielder’s ability to see the ball coming. It was a perfect long fly ball.

  Becca and Kimmie rose to their feet screaming, attracting dirty looks from the Coventry crowd. “That’s why they call him Fly Kid,” Becca squealed in Abbey’s ear.

  He turned to look at them while he ran. He knew he had enough time. He smiled and gave a salute to Rebecca before sauntering around the bases. The blood started to pound in Abbey’s ears. He was the kid from the stones. If he’d recognized Abbey, he gave no sign. The Greenhill crowd cheered on the other side of the stadium.

  Abbey stood. “I have to go,” she mumbled. “Catch a bus. What’s Jake’s last name?”

  “Hammond,” said Kimmie. “Why? Hey, you look like crap, Abs. You should eat something.”

  “I have to go,” Abbey repeated, and started to weave her way through the sea of bodies down the bleachers. Halfway down, she found herself face to face with the solid chest of Russell Andrews.

  “Hey,” he said. “Are you coming to that meeting?”

  “What meeting?”

  “The Student Council meeting. I know the game is on and all, but we have some important issues to discuss. I’m heading there now.” Russell’s body was blocking her view of the field, and on the plus side, Jake’s potential view of her. Russell’s strange pale eyes bored into her. It was like he didn’t blink. The familiar unsettled sense she experienced when he was around started to wash over her, but she forced herself to stare coolly into his eyes, despite the tremor in her knees.

  “Okay. I can’t stay for long though. I have to catch a bus. I’ll follow you.” It seemed crazy to agree to go, but the day had been so strange, she just wanted to do something normal, and she felt, weirdly, like she couldn’t say no to Russell. This was how girls got themselves into bad situations, she knew. But she was just agreeing to go into the school with him, to a meeting, and she needed to get away from Jake. Russell’s left eyebrow arched fractionally and the corner of his lip curled. He seemed gratified, but also faintly surprised.

  She glanced over at the Greenhill dugout as she left the stadium. Jake’s head was turned in her direction, an inscrutable expression on his face.

  She followed Russell to a room in the school where four other seniors sat. A row of expectant eyes looked at her—all except one of the seniors, a girl with long purple fingernails, who was doodling in her notebook. Russell placed his hand lightly into the small of Abbey’s back and introduced her around. She was immediately lost in the sea of names. Was the girl to the left Kailee, Rayleen, or Ann? The one other boy besides Russell she vaguely recognized as Stewart from her Chem 12 class. She gave up trying to remember the other names.

  “So,” Russell began. “You’re probably wondering why we’ve asked you to join us.”

  “Sort of,” Abbey said.

  Russell smiled broadly. There was a predatory quality to his grin. Perhaps just the confident smile of a politician used to winning audiences. He was handsome, she decided, in a pale but rugged kind of way. “We’ve decided that youth don’t have enough say in how Coventry City is run. We’d like to establish a youth council to advise the city council on important decisions that will affect our future.”

  “I’m sorry…how does that involve me?”

  “Your mother is likely about to be mayor of Coventry City. We were hoping you could help convince her to establish a youth council.”

  “Why don’t you just ask her yourself?” Abbey asked weakly.

  “We will, of course,” Russell said. “But it would be helpful if you also stressed how important and valuable it would be.”

  “You’re asking me to lobby my mother?”

  “No, no, not at all. If you aren’t comfortable with that, we totally understand. We’d love for you to be involved in the youth council. We know how well you do at school and we think you’d be a real asset. Student Council has always been about social things like dances and games. We want to make it more meaningful.” Russell drew out the word meaningful and stared directly at Abbey.

  She tried to be excited that a senior was looking at her with such intensity. Kimmie and Becca would be over the moon at Abbey’s luck. But really, she was more baffled t
han anything, not to mention a wee bit scared. “Um, well, okay. I have to go. Can I think about it?”

  “By all means. We’re hoping to have the council up and running just after the municipal election.”

  Abbey popped up from her seat and gave everyone a half-hearted wave. Nobody else in the room looked nearly as interested in her as Russell.

  “Thanks for joining us, Abbey,” he called as she left.

  When she’d gotten far enough away from the room, she stopped and pressed her forehead against the cool metal of a locker. There was too much going on. She felt Simon’s iPhone in her pocket. She pulled it out and dialed her mother’s work number. Her mother’s assistant, Sheridan, picked up.

  “Hello, Marian Beckham’s office, Sheridan Levasseur speaking.”

  “Hey, Sheridan, it’s Abbey. Is my mom there?”

  “Hey, Abbey. She’s in an important meeting right now until five. Is it important?”

  “Is my dad in the meeting too?”

  “Yeah, it’s the weekly management meeting and there’ve been some problems on the construction site. But if it is important, I can go in there and interrupt, honey.”

  “No. It’s okay.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. It’s okay.”

  “I can have her call you the second she gets out.”

  “Okay. Can you tell her that Mrs. Forrester, our neighbor, has had a stroke? She’s at the hospital.”

  “Oh my goodness, that’s terrible. Of course I’ll tell her.”

  The bus drove down College Boulevard. The maples and oaks were cloaked in brilliant red and orange foliage and the well-kept houses sported lush green lawns and wide drives.

  “It was him. I’m sure of it,” Abbey said. “Fly Kid.” Russell’s proposal still swirled in her head. Why had Russell been so nice to her when it seemed like he was so mean to Simon?

  Caleb stared at the bus ceiling in thought. “Jake Hammond… I’ve heard of him. He’s considered the most talented ballplayer Greenhill has ever produced. He should be easy enough to find. But what are we going to say? ‘Hey, are you considering killing one of us in the future? Gone rock hunting lately? Know a man who’s named himself after an insect?’” Caleb trailed off.

  Mark sat with his hands placed on his legs to avoid germs. When the bus stopped, Simon didn’t reach out fast enough and Mark flew forward and hit the seat ahead of them. A body in motion stays in motion. He attempted to get back up without touching anything, looking like an overweight seal that couldn’t quite get back on land.

  “Are you okay?” Abbey asked.

  Mark resumed looking at the red and blue map of the Coventry bus routes on one of the roof panels. “I am not thinking about my current situation. I have decided this is not happening. ”

  They found Room 273 in the Horton Building with little difficulty. Caleb knocked on the closed door. It opened to reveal an old man with spectacles and wiry white hair that rose from his head in all directions, like the rays of a setting sun or the mane of a lion. He was an imp of a man, standing only a few centimeters taller than Abbey—not counting his hair, which added at least seven centimeters. He wore cream dress pants, oxfords, and a turquoise button-up shirt on his trim frame. His smile was brilliant though, even if his teeth were a bit small and rat-like, and he ushered them into his office with great excitement.

  “Oh my god, it’s Richard Simmons,” Simon whispered. Despite the situation, Abbey almost giggled. They were all familiar with the eighties fitness star from videos they’d been forced to exercise to in elementary school.

  Shelves, desks, and filing cabinets filled the room. Every conceivable surface was piled with papers and books. The wall spaces that weren’t blocked by shelves were adorned with maps, mostly of the immediate area, including a detailed relief map of Coventry Hill that Abbey had never seen before.

  Mark stopped and stared, mesmerized by the map.

  “Sit, sit.” Dr. Ford cleared stacks of paper off the two chairs that faced his, placing them atop already precariously leaning stacks that sat on his desk. A whorl of dust drifted off one of the piles of papers. “I don’t usually get visitors any more since I don’t have students. I’m afraid I only have two chairs. I’m only an adjunct professor now, you know. But it looks like Mark is happy looking at the map, so perhaps we’ll leave him there.”

  Abbey and Caleb sank into the proffered chairs.

  Simon looked around the room quizzically. “How can you be a computer science professor if you don’t even have a computer?”

  Dr. Ford chuckled. “Oh, I was a computer science professor in the days of punch cards and magnetic tapes.”

  Simon’s eyeballs looked as though they might leap out of his skull.

  Dr. Ford laughed. “I’m kidding, my boy.” He pulled open a drawer in his desk revealing a slim silver computer. “I have a Mac like everyone else.” Dr. Ford put his hands on his knees. “But we’re here to talk about you. I take it you found the stones.”

  “Yes. How do you know Mark, Dr. Ford?” Caleb asked.

  “Call me Paul. Oh, I knew Mark when he was a little boy. Betty, I mean Francis, and I were friends long ago. He’s gotten a lot bigger.”

  Abbey thought she could detect a hint of something funny in Dr. Ford’s smile. “Why do you call her Betty?”

  “Well, we don’t usually start there, but I suppose that’s as good a place as any. It’s not Betty as in B-e-t-t-y. It’s B-e-t-i. Beti is a Basque name for stones. Because Francis is the stones in a way. Without her, the stones wouldn’t work. She’s the Energy.”

  Or Mark is, Abbey thought. But Caleb shook his head slightly in response to her glance.

  Mark’s voice made Abbey jump. “You’re Ray.” Abbey wasn’t certain, but she wondered if there was a mild tone of accusation in Mark’s voice. With the brusque and monotone way Mark usually communicated, it was hard to tell.

  Dr. Ford beamed, but his eyes flicked up to the left where Mark stood. “Yes, that’s right. Ray means protector. It’s spelled R-a-e. The names are passed down with the roles. The stones must always have an Energy and a Guardian. It’s the Guardian’s job to educate new querents regarding the rules of the stones. Beti—er, Francis—called me when you first went through. Or at least she thought you did. She wasn’t sure. But people who’ve experienced the stones always have a certain look about them. And they almost always go back. So, it becomes pretty obvious after a time. Francis was going to watch you and confirm you’d found them and then introduce you to me. No sense talking gibberish to you about some stones if you’ve never found them, because then you’d go looking for them, and lots of parents these days wouldn’t be too happy about that. But after that first call, I haven’t heard from her. I called several times, and I was starting to get worried. But then I figured maybe it had been a false alarm and you had, in fact, not found the stones after all.” Dr. Ford slapped his hands against his knees again and leaned forward. His eyes were a striking blue. “But now you’re here and we can start to talk about the rules. Tell me, have you told your parents, or anyone, of your…adventures?”

  “No,” said Abbey. Something about the hopeful glint in Dr. Ford’s eyes when he asked this question made her nervous. She had been about to pass on the message from the woman in Nowhere. That you had to smoke on the docks. But she decided not to. Not yet. She did not quite trust this man.

  “Good, good. It’s best not to, at least in the short term. Parents sometimes have funny ideas about what their children should and shouldn’t be doing. Now, the rules. They’re complicated, and you might need a few sessions. And if you decide you want to go through the formal Trials, you’ll need yet more weeks of instruction. Now let me see, where to start…” Dr. Ford started leafing through some crinkled-looking papers.

  “Sir—Paul…” Caleb interrupted. “We found the stones by accident. We don’t know anything about formal Trials. We don’t have time for training. We think someone may be trying to kill one of us.
Mark had a vision of the future in which there was a fight with arrows and people died. We were there, in his vision, I mean, and we think Mark is going to end up in some weird green fog place, and it’s all going to happen tomorrow. Mrs. Forrester has had a stroke, and a guy named Mantis has something to do with it…maybe all of it…we think. So, if you could just give us the basics, that would be great.”

  Dr. Ford’s mouth had fallen slightly slack and the color had seeped from his face. “Someone trying to kill you, Mantis, a stroke, Nowhere…oh. Tomorrow?” He sat silent for a few seconds and then abruptly grabbed a worn red knapsack off the back of his chair and started tossing items from his desk drawer into it—his wallet, computer, iPhone, a handful of acorns, and a small bag of dried leaves.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Abbey asked.

  Dr. Ford jerked his head in her direction. “Yes, of course. We have to go to the hospital and see Francis. Come on. I’ll have to explain the rules on the way. If Mantis is involved, we have no time to waste.” He shouted sharply, “Come, Sanome!”

  A black and white border collie with soft brown eyes appeared from behind one of the filing cabinets and came to sit attentively beside Dr. Ford, poised for the next command.

  “You bring your dog to work?” Caleb asked.

  Dr. Ford raised his fuzzy white eyebrows. “Of course. All witches have a familiar.”

  Chapter 11

  Operating Systems…Again

  They trailed Dr. Ford out of the office and down the polished halls of the Horton building. Despite his limited stature, the professor walked with a brisk and precise gait, and Abbey had to double her usual pace to keep up. Sanome padded by his side, leash-less, showing no inclination to wander away or sniff at garbage cans, the faint click of her toenails audible on the floors.

  Mark’s stomps echoed behind them. He’d screamed and pulled his hair when they told him they were going, and had only agreed to leave Dr. Ford’s office if he could return and trace a copy of the map of Coventry Hill the next day. Dr. Ford had seemed totally bemused by the outburst, and in the end it was Simon, in his new role as Mark’s keeper, who had convinced Mark to depart.