Nix sat back. “You’re saying Defense picked this fight?”
“He’s been riding Errol all year, nicknaming him ‘Foot-Man’ and then just ‘Foot,’ and all the other kids took to chanting ‘Foot’ from the stands, and Errol hated it. But today Defense just pulled out all the stops, in the hallway after school, in front of everybody. Called him ‘Athlete’s Foot,’ which everybody knew would catch on and make Errol’s life a living hell. And then when Errol told him to take it back—like that would actually happen—Defense said, ‘How about the scientific name,’ which is something like tinea pedis, only Defense made all the “E’s” long, so it was ‘tee-nee-a PEE-dis,’ and then he switched it to ‘tee-dee-a PEE-nis, and—”
Nix shook his head. “And you think other kids would have picked that up?”
“It would have become ‘Teeny Penis’ by the third repetition,” said Ryan. “And that’s the thing about Defense—when he tags you with a nickname, it sticks, everybody hears it, everybody remembers it. He’s kind of famous for it, and Errol knew that.”
Nix put his hands behind his head. “So he’s the football hero of da Gama High, only some pissant kid can tag him with humiliating nicknames whenever he wants.”
“I don’t think knocking Defense down and kicking him was right,” said Ryan, “and he’s still my friend. But, Sergeant Nix, Defenseur Fabron can be a real ass-face, and I don’t blame Errol for losing it. I only hit him because Defense didn’t deserve to die for it.”
Nix chuckled wryly. “I never thought I’d hear a story like that from you.”
“It’s the truth, sir.”
“Oh, I believe it,” said Nix. “It’s just, you were so even-handed. You’re supposed to tell me how horrible the kicker was, always kicking sand in your friend’s face. But instead, your friend was the sand kicker, am I right?”
“Metaphorically speaking,” said Ryan.
“Yeah, I went to high school, too,” said Nix. “Metaphorically speaking.”
“Sir, did you really mean it when you said I’m not being charged or held or anything?”
“Yes, I did. Even if you had confessed to planning the whole thing, I didn’t read you your rights, I didn’t have your parents present, and I didn’t record the interrogation, so you’d be off on a technicality no matter what. But I saw the videos, and look, I still have to ask you my original question.”
“I don’t remember what that was.”
“I didn’t actually ask it yet,” said Nix. “Your response was so quick, your leap was so perfectly timed and aimed with just the right amount of thrust, and look, Ryan, I was Army Rangers and I fought in savage special ops and I saw the best of the best, and look, kid, nobody makes a leap like that. Perfect aim. Powerful, when your arms aren’t anything, no offense. Buggy whips, that’s what they look like. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you broke your arm punching him like that.”
“My elbow is kind of sore.”
“Put ice on it. Listen. I need to know. Who the hell did you train with?”
“What?”
“Who taught you moves like that?”
Ryan shook his head. “I’ve never—I don’t train. If I trained, would I have buggy-whip arms?”
“Maybe you’re one of those people, those ectomorphs who can’t pack on muscle so they’re just wiry strong, and they—”
Ryan held out his arm for Nix to palpate. Which he did.
“There’s nothing here,” said the detective.
“I don’t train,” said Ryan.
“I don’t know how you can lift a fork to your mouth,” said Nix.
“Oh, come on,” said Ryan. “I think I’m pretty much normal for a kid whose most strenuous activities are walking to school and playing video games.”
“You have reflexes like that, accuracy like that, strength in your thighs to make you airborne, and you—”
“My thighs and my calves and my feet are pretty sore, too, now that you mention it,” said Ryan.
“You’re telling me that all of that was pure adrenaline?”
“I’m telling you that I saw what needed doing and I did it. I didn’t stop and think, I didn’t know if I could do it, I just did it and it worked and I really hope it doesn’t lay Errol out for too long because he was totally goaded into it and I don’t think it’s really in his nature to be, like, murderous.”
“But your friend, Defensooer?”
“Defenseur. We call him Defense.”
“He’s kind of a bully.”
“He normally only picks on people in authority. The principal. Teachers. Pokes them, and sure, they hate him, but they aren’t going to punch him out. Usually he’s subtler, so they can’t even get angry with him. Usually.”
“Still a bully,” said Nix.
“I really am trying to work with him about that,” said Ryan.
“Keep trying. Succeed. Because someday he’s going to goad the wrong guy, and you won’t be there to rescue him.”
“Maybe if I’d started the day by punching Defense in the throat,” said Ryan.
“Not a bad idea,” said Nix.
“The thing is,” said Ryan, “I’ve never punched anybody in the throat before. I’ve never punched anybody anywhere.”
Nix raised his eyebrows.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” said Ryan, doing his best Rodney Dangerfield from Back to School. Which wasn’t a good imitation. But Nix seemed to get it.
“Stick with love, then,” said Nix. “Because however you did it, you’re scary dangerous, my man.”
“The world is safe, except when somebody’s trying to kill my friend.”
By then Nix was standing at the door, about to open it. “Ryan Burke, the kid I saw in that video, if I were going into combat today, I’d want you beside me.”
“I don’t want to go into combat, sir. Ever.”
“Good choice,” said Nix. “Because if somebody trained you, you’d be seriously scary.”
Then Nix was out the door.
And Ryan was off in search of a way to get back to school in time to walk Bizzy home from play practice. If she was still going to play practice. Didn’t she tell him they had already cast somebody else in her part? Why would Defense tell him that she was still in the play?
Was Defense just lying to get Ryan to be there when Errol creamed him?
Or was Bizzy lying when she said she had dropped out?
The buses took a long time. Play practice was over before Ryan got back to school. So whether Bizzy had been at practice or not made no difference. She must have called her mother.
Ryan walked home alone.
Mrs. Horvat met him on the sidewalk in front of the duplex. She looked angry, but she was containing it. “I thought you would be reliable,” she said.
“Something came up,” said Ryan.
“Bojana told me about the fight,” said Mrs. Horvat.
“I tried to prevent it,” said Ryan.
“She told me that, too,” said Mrs. Horvat.
How had Bizzy known? Maybe she was close enough to hear Ryan begging Defense to go to the principal’s office instead of facing Errol.
“She also told me you made one flying leap and laid out that kicking boy with one blow. She told me you saved your friend’s life because the kicker was going to break his head.”
Ryan said nothing. Because now he realized that Mrs. Horvat wasn’t actually angry. She was just being intense.
“I don’t know what you are or why you can do such a thing, and I don’t need to know. I have just one question. Do you love my daughter as much as you love your friend?”
Ryan nodded. He didn’t say, way more, because he didn’t really know how to measure two different kinds of love against each other.
“If somebody was attacking her, you defend her like that?” asked Mrs.
Horvat.
“I’d do . . . whatever I thought of in the moment,” said Ryan.
“Would you die for her?”
Ryan was taken aback by that. “If I’m dead, I can’t protect her,” he said.
“Good answer,” said Mrs. Horvat. “No foolish gestures. Real, practical saving of my daughter, that’s what I expect from you.”
“That’s what I hope to be able to give her,” said Ryan.
“Keep walking her home from school,” said Mrs. Horvat. “I feel safe about her for the first time in years.”
Ryan didn’t think now was a good time to ask if Bizzy was still in the play. Best to just go inside his own house and maybe talk to her later tonight, on her back deck.
And then talk to the people at GRUT and see what they thought. See if they could give him some idea of what was going on, and what he should do to maybe get some kind of control over this ability to do the necessary thing even if maybe it might kill somebody.
11
Ryan didn’t want to wait a week for the next GRUT meeting. He called Dr. Withunga the next morning before school.
“I’ve got to talk this out,” Ryan told her.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be there right at the close of school today. But it won’t be a big group. Probably just me, and Aaron if he feels like it, and I think Jannis will want to come. Will Bizzy be with you?”
“I can’t predict. Should I invite her?”
“Your call. And hers, of course. Sure, ask her.”
So it was a smaller meeting indeed, since Aaron was not there. Just Jannis and Dr. Withunga, plus Ryan and Bizzy. Because Bizzy had actually brought it up, asking Ryan at lunchtime whether he was going to be at a GRUT meeting soon.
“I think we can safely say that Ryan’s micropower isn’t about bees,” said Bizzy.
Her face was back to normal, which meant pretty and a bit distracting, but not stunning.
“I got Bizzy’s mom’s seal of approval,” said Ryan.
“I’m so happy to hear that,” said Bizzy. “Did she ask if you would die for me?”
“I told her I couldn’t save you if I was dead,” said Ryan.
“Very logical, but that usually doesn’t cut much ice with her.”
“She took it well,” said Ryan. “Look, this isn’t about her, it’s about what I can do. The problem is that Defenseur absolutely provoked the fight. He made it happen. He wanted it to happen, because he thought if he was threatened, my micropower would kick in.”
“Which it did,” said Jannis.
“But it shouldn’t have!” cried Ryan. “I mean, what am I? My friend picks a fight by making really ugly and damaging taunts, and his purpose was to get me to save him. What am I, to nearly kill another kid because my friend provoked him?”
“He was going to kill your friend,” said Jannis.
“I thought so, yes, but I didn’t know. I changed my aim at the last second. Maybe Errol would have changed his. Maybe he planned not to really kick Defense at all.”
“Maybe indeed,” said Dr. Withunga.
“So I didn’t save Defense from the first kick, which didn’t just break his ribs, it caved them in, and they haven’t bounced back out, so I think Defense is going to heal up wrong. And I have no idea what’s happening to Errol, but Detective Nix said he was in bad shape.”
“How was any of this your fault?” asked Jannis.
“I don’t think it was, really,” said Ryan. “It was Defense’s fault, and he was setting me up on purpose, and I begged him not to do it, I begged him to stop, so—”
“You still feel guilty because you feel responsible,” said Dr. Withunga.
“That’s just me,” said Ryan. “I was actually worried about the bee I had in my mouth. I watched to make sure it was actually flying well, in case my saliva or mucus from my mouth or something was making it impossible for her to fly straight.”
“A very active conscience,” said Dr. Withunga. “That means you’re probably civilized beyond your years. But since there’s nothing you can do to repair the physical damage that Defense and Errol have suffered—”
“Dr. Withunga,” said Jannis. “Are you planning to go with Ryan to visit Defense in the hospital?”
Dr. Withunga looked at her steadily for a couple of beats and then said, “That’s really a very nice idea. I think Ryan plans to go visit his friend anyway, and if you want to come . . .”
Ryan definitely did not want either Dr. Withunga or Jannis there. But then it occurred to him that something else was going on here. Maybe something connected with Jannis’s real micropower. Jannis must have a reason for going along, and Dr. Withunga must also have a reason for letting her.
You’ve got to trust people, Ryan, he told himself. Jannis doesn’t want to talk about her micropower, but maybe she’s offering to use it, and that’s a big deal. If her micropower was destructive, Dr. Withunga wouldn’t let her come along, right?
“As long as we’re making it a field trip,” said Ryan, “do you want to come along, Bizzy?”
“There’s no need for her to come,” said Dr. Withunga. “But I have enough room in my car to take all of you, and we can drop Bizzy off at home along the way.”
Bizzy looked sharply at Ryan. He could only give a tiny hint of a shrug. How can I know what they’re doing, but can you play along as if it made sense?
Maybe she got his silent message, maybe she didn’t. What mattered was that she said, “I don’t like hospitals, so I’ll be just as happy to get started on my homework. And, for what it’s worth, I didn’t learn anything about my own micropower since our last meeting, so I’m glad we’re breaking up the meeting without discussing it.”
Nobody said anything during the drive home, but about a block away Bizzy asked Dr. Withunga to stop the car. “Just so Mom doesn’t see me get out of your car.”
“She’ll know anyway,” said Jannis.
“She’s not that kind of a witch,” said Bizzy.
“But she’s that kind of a mother. Right?” said Jannis.
Bizzy got out of the car and started walking up the block. Dr. Withunga turned the other way so she wouldn’t drive past the duplex.
At the hospital, Ryan led Jannis and Dr. Withunga to Defense’s room. Defense, whose shirt had been replaced by an open-backed hospital gown, looked annoyed. “I’m glad they left me my pants,” he said.
“Sorry to bother you,” said Ryan. “I’ll set up an appointment with your secretary next time.”
“Who is this?” asked Defense. “Your superhero group?”
“Micropower,” said Ryan.
“Rare and useless talents,” said Jannis.
“Ryan’s was useful to me,” said Defense. “Though it would have been nice if you had stepped in before he caved in my chest. Doctor said the only way to push my ribs back into place is through surgery, and since none of the bone fragments are in a threatening position, he prefers to leave them where they are for now and see what they do.”
“Is it really dented in?” asked Jannis. “I’ve never seen that.”
Defense rolled his eyes. “It’s the only interesting thing about me now, so I should probably thank Errol for giving me a declivity in my rib cage.”
“Declivity,” said Jannis. “Oh my.” It should have been taken as a taunt—it was just the kind of snotty thing that Defense liked to say. But Defense took it calmly. In fact, he pulled his hospital gown across his body to show where, even under the bandages, there was a pretty deep and obvious dent in the left side of his rib cage.
Without even asking, Jannis reached out and started stroking the bandages over the dent, tracing the outline and then running her fingers through the dent. “Lots of pieces,” said Jannis. “I bet it would take a doctor hours to get them all back together.”
“What are you doing?” asked Defense. But he
didn’t sound worried. Just curious.
“I plan on a kind of medical career,” said Jannis, “and I’m fascinated by the ways that injury can remake the human body without losing any critical function. But I’m surprised your doctor isn’t worried about bone fragments working their way to other parts of your body. I mean, what if a bone chip punctured your lung? What if one got over to your heart? Have you gotten a second opinion?”
“My mom asked for one,” said Defense. “I was just thinking, Pain doesn’t last forever, and chicks dig scars.”
“Chicks,” said Jannis, shaking her head.
“I didn’t make up the saying,” said Defense.
“I know,” said Jannis. “But you’re quoting it wrong.”
“I’m quoting the parts that apply,” said Defense, a little resentfully.
Jannis pulled her hand away from Defense’s bandage and drew his gown back over his chest. But as she did that, Ryan got the weird idea that Defense’s dent was nowhere near as deep as it had been when Jannis first reached out to touch it.
They made their goodbyes then, as if the only thing they were there for was for Jannis to touch Defense’s injury.
“No, you stay,” said Dr. Withunga to Ryan. “You and your friend have things to talk about, I’m sure.”
“I’m pretty much fed up with Defense today,” said Ryan, “and what I want to say to him will probably use up most of my list of Tourette’s words.”
“I already know your pathetic Tourette’s list,” said Defense. “You keep refusing to let me teach you more bad words.”
“For a guy who hurts when he breathes, you sure talk a lot,” said Ryan.
When he looked around, Jannis and Dr. Withunga were just going out the door.
“That’s not cool,” said Ryan. “I thought they were going to be my ride home.”
But Defense didn’t answer. His eyelids were fluttering and then they stopped. Closed. He was asleep.
Ryan sat there thinking. What had Jannis done? What was her micropower? It hadn’t caused Defense any pain, apparently, when she stroked his injury. And she talked about the bone fragments as if she knew a lot about that kind of thing.
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